Читать книгу Maidlin Bears the Torch - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 6

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‘Oh, it is the one chance in a thousand!’ Benney gasped.

The Italian girl grew scarlet. Then, suddenly, recognition dawned in her eyes. ‘But I’ve seen you before! Where was it?’ She looked quickly at all three, and then her gaze rested on Mrs. Bennett. ‘I half know you. Where have we met?’

‘You said you’d know Mother again!’ Benney shouted in excitement. ‘It was in Annecy—you forgot our order and came to ask—you wore a daffodil and a little apron—a man was rude and you threw soup over him!’

Madalena’s face cleared in relief. ‘I remember. I knew I had seen you before! I didn’t throw the soup; it just happened. How odd to see you again! You were kind and understanding; I knew I wouldn’t forget you.’

‘Not so odd,’ Mrs. Bennett said, smiling. ‘We heard you sing, and we recognised you. You gave us a great treat.’

‘Oh! Were you at the concert?’ she flushed again. ‘I was so frightened!’

‘Were you? You didn’t show it.’

‘Mother and I were there,’ Benney said eagerly. ‘We thought your songs were gorgeous! Wasn’t Sir Ivor Quellyn pleased? Mother thought he wasn’t, quite, but we didn’t know why.’

‘He wants me to sing in grand opera, but I can’t act, and I don’t want to do it. He says I have the voice but not the temperament. I can’t help it; I’m not an actress.’

‘No, I don’t think it would suit you,’ Mrs. Bennett agreed.

‘I’d like to wear the marvellous frocks and costumes,’ the Italian girl admitted, with laughing black eyes. ‘But I wouldn’t like any of the rest of it. It isn’t the sort of life I’d care for. Ivor can’t have his own way in everything!’

‘He expects it, doesn’t he? He looks like that,’ said Benney.

‘Benedicta!’ said her mother.

‘I loved your ballad!’ Benney went on eagerly. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t hear much of the first thing. I was so stunned by seeing you again.’

‘The ballad was my choice. Ivor said I might choose my encore, if I’d sing the Handel aria to please him. I said I might not need an encore, and he laughed at me. So I prepared “Sylvy” in case it was wanted. I love the little tune!’

‘Did he like your choice?’ asked Mrs. Bennett. ‘I thought it suited you so well.’

‘He laughed,’ Maidlin confessed. ‘He always laughs at us for being so keen on folk-music. But he said it would suit me and be a good contrast to the other. Did you come to see the Abbey? Shall I take you round?’

‘We came to see you, but we didn’t really expect it to happen,’ Benney explained. ‘We heard about the ruins and we thought, if we came, just possibly——’

‘And it has happened. No wonder you shrieked! We’d better begin going round; other people may come, and Aunty will wonder why we’re standing here. It was my aunt who let you in,’ Madalena said simply. ‘I’m helping her, just for a day or two. She isn’t strong, and when she has faint turns the steps are too much for her. On her bad days I come to help.’

‘You are mysterious!’ Benney marvelled. ‘You’ve been a waitress, and a public singer, and now you’re a caretaker and a guide! How many more things are you?’

‘I’m aunty to two lively twins, and that’s a whole-time job. And next week I’m going to be bridesmaid to a Countess.’ The black eyes gleamed with amusement.

‘Oh! The girl who was at the concert? Are you her bridesmaid?’

‘One of them. The twins are maids too, and Rosamund’s cousins. I couldn’t let her be married without me; we’ve been chums since I was fourteen. Will you come this way?’ and she led them out on to the green lawn, surrounded by grey walls and arched doorways and windows.

She was slight and small, with black hair coiled on her neck, and clear pale skin. She wore a dress of very deep-blue wool, woven on a white silk warp, so that the blue was shot with silver and looked bright, not dark, changing and shimmering as she moved, but it was very simply made, its beauty in the material itself and in the vivid bands of pattern, in orange and green and yellow, which decorated the skirt.

‘This is the cloister garth; the monks’ burial place. You can see almost the whole Abbey from here. On the south side, those high windows are the refectory; we’ll go up there first. This beautiful Early English doorway and the lovely little windows belong to the chapter-house. The church has gone, but it was through that gap. The monks slept in the dormitory over the chapter-house and day-room; those lancets are the dormitory windows. This is all that is left of the cloisters, which once went right round the garth, of course. The kitchens and store-rooms are below the refectory. As you can see by the windows, it was built much later than the rest; I’ll show you the site of the first refectory outside. Shall we go up? It’s a beautiful big hall. These are the stairs; be careful how you go.’

She led the way up a stone stair under a vaulted roof to the lovely hall, and pointed out the tiles and wall-paintings, the reader’s niche and the big fireplace, and the beautiful carved beams of the roof.

Mrs. Bennett was deeply interested and asked many questions. Benney listened with half her mind, but kept glancing at Jim, who was hanging back in obvious embarrassment. He could not forget that meeting of two years before and his own incautious comment on the supposed foreign waitress’s appearance. ‘Topping kid! Ripping eyes!’—was that what he had said? And his father’s remark, ‘A pretty little thing.’ And she had been English and had understood. She must have laughed at him many times since, and Jim could not bear to be laughed at. In her presence he was stricken with shyness, and kept awkwardly in the background.

He was puzzled, too. What was she? Waitress—caretaker—singer—intimate friend of the Quellyns—he did not know what to make of her. Was she perhaps a village girl whose voice Lady Quellyn had discovered and had trained? She had said that the caretaker of the ruins was her aunt. But where did her Italian name and her foreign appearance come from? Jim would have liked to put a few very personal questions to this mysterious girl.

She knew the Abbey thoroughly and loved it, that was certain. No question of Mrs. Bennett’s found her unprepared, and she explained the life of the monks in a simple but picturesque way that captured Benedicta’s imagination and held her enthralled.

‘Were they Benedictines? Oh, I do hope they were!’

‘No, they were Cistercians. Why do you want them to be Benedictines?’

‘Because my name’s Benedicta. I’ve a godfather in Rome, and he said I was to be blessed and to be a blessing to myself and everybody, and they called me Benedicta. But I’m not, you know; not yet. So they usually call me Benney or just Ben. May we call you Madalena? We feel we’ve known you for two years; must we say Miss di Ravarati?’

The black eyes laughed at her. ‘Madalena is too long for every day; it’s only for use on programmes. I’m Maidlin, or Maid for short.’

‘Oh, how pretty! Oh, let us call you Maidlin!’

Maidlin laughed. ‘Come and see the day-room, where the monks worked. Then we’ll go up to the dormitory.’

‘How did it feel to have all those thousands of people cheering and clapping for you?’ Benney asked eagerly.

‘Very nice, but a little alarming! I did it to please Ivor and Joy; Joy has been so good to me, and has taken so much trouble over my training. I felt this would show it had been some use, if I did well; she wanted me to try.’

‘Joy?’ Benney queried.

‘Lady Quellyn, you know.’

‘Oh, I see. Wasn’t she fearfully pleased?’

‘I think she was,’ Maidlin admitted. ‘But I don’t want to do it often,’ and she led them down a dark passage and into a big, light room, where the monks had worked.

‘That’s the way to the Hall, where we live,’ she said, as they came out to the garth after visiting the site of the old refectory. ‘There’s a path across the Abbot’s garden and through the shrubbery to the Hall. We come into the Abbey a great deal.’

‘You know all about it, don’t you?’ Benney said admiringly.

‘I’ve lived here for ten years.’

‘Where did you live before that? With your aunt?’

‘Benney!’ said her mother.

‘I suppose it isn’t my business. I’m sorry.’

Maidlin explained. ‘I lived on a farm in Cumberland, on the fells, with another aunt. I’m half North-Country; Ivor says that’s why I’m so hopeless when it comes to acting. He says I’m cold and stiff, and all sorts of dreadful things.’

‘Oh, not stiff!’ Mrs. Bennett protested. ‘Who taught you that beautiful curtsy? We all remarked on it.’

Maidlin’s eyes widened. ‘Was it all right? I didn’t know; I just did it.’

‘I liked the way you bobbed to Lady Quellyn, after you’d sung her songs,’ said Benney. ‘It looked like a country-dance curtsy.’

‘It was,’ Maidlin said simply. ‘Rosamund says they laughed and said: “Good for Maid!” We’re all dancers here. I suppose you didn’t hear Margaret shriek—“Go it, Aunty Maid! Don’t be frightened!”—when I first came on? I heard and it made me laugh, and I think it helped.’

‘Was that one of the twins? We heard her call something, but we didn’t know what it was.’

‘Nobody can subdue Margaret for very long. They were surprisingly good, but they knew they’d be whisked out into the corridor by Rosamund, if they didn’t behave well. Come up to the dormitory; be careful of these steps! They’re uneven in places.’

She gave her left hand to Mrs. Bennett, to lead her up the turning stair.

A cry of incredulous joy broke from Benedicta. ‘Oh, your ring! Camp Fire! Oh, how many other lovely things do you do?’

In the big, light upper room Maidlin turned eager eyes upon her. ‘Are you Camp Fire? I’ve been a Guardian for nearly four years; we’ve a very jolly Camp Fire—Camp Waditaka, the Camp of the Adventurous People.’

‘How thrilling! I’ve had the most dreadful luck!’ Benney mourned. ‘They started a Camp Fire at school last term, and I joined—see, here’s my ring, the same as yours! But I left at the end of the term—that was yesterday—so though I am and always will be Camp Fire, I haven’t had much good of it. I’m hoping I’ll find another Camp somewhere and be able to go on. I haven’t got a gown, of course; I’m not a Wood-Gatherer. I suppose you’ve a marvellous gown?’

Maidlin coloured. ‘It is rather marvellous.’ She hesitated. ‘I could show it to you before you go; I was working on it when you came. We’ve a meeting to-night, a rather important meeting.’

‘Oh, please show it to us! Mother has never seen a gown!’ Benney cried. ‘Where is it? Where were you working?’

‘In my aunt’s room. She lives in some funny little rooms right in the walls of the Abbey.’

‘May we see them? And the gown? Or is that asking too much?’ said Mrs. Bennett. ‘And if it isn’t rude—and since we’re such old friends!—may I admire the frock you’re wearing? It’s most beautiful material.’

‘It’s handwoven,’ Maidlin’s face lit up in eager pleasure. ‘Rosamund has a loom, and she wove it specially for me. She wanted me to have a gorgeous white silk one for the concert, but I said I’d much rather have something simple for singing and a useful handwoven that I could wear every day. Isn’t the pattern pretty? I like to feel there isn’t another piece anywhere in the world exactly the same as mine.’

‘Oh, marvellous!’ Benney cried. ‘You must be terribly proud of it!’

‘I am, just terribly proud,’ Maidlin confessed, laughing.

She had glanced occasionally at silent, embarrassed Jim. As he went with Mrs. Bennett to look out of the gap in the wall which had once led to the “night-stair” down to the church, Maidlin looked doubtfully at Benedicta.

Benney read the unspoken question correctly. ‘He’s frightened of you,’ she whispered.

Maidlin’s eyes widened. ‘But why?’ she whispered in reply.

‘Because he said things about you, that day in Annecy, and we all laughed when you said you were English. He feels he made an ass of himself, and he hates that.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Maidlin looked troubled; this was something she understood. She gazed sympathetically at Jim’s back; then she went quickly to explain where the church and the high altar had stood and how the monks had watched the light burning all night long.

For the moment she ignored Jim; but she was shy herself, now that she understood, and she stumbled in her explanation and could not quite forget herself as she had done at first, even in her story of the Abbey. In the chapter-house she turned to him, with a kind of desperate courage.

‘Will you please stop worrying? You didn’t say anything that mattered; and anyway, I’ve forgotten all about it. It’s dreadful to have you following us round, not saying a word! Don’t you like the Abbey?’

‘Good for you! Give him another!’ Benney cried in delight.

Jim looked open-mouthed at Maidlin. Then he jerked—‘Sorry!’

‘Then that’s all right. You’ve said you’re sorry, and I’ve told you I’ve forgotten the whole thing. Please don’t think about it again, ever. I’m going to ask you to do something for us. I suppose you drive the car? I heard a car, so I know you came in one.’

‘Yes?’ Jim asked, much astonished. ‘I drive; what can I do?’

‘If I invite your sister to stay and watch our Camp Fire meeting, will you come back and fetch her about nine o’clock?’

‘Oh, Madalena di Ravarati! What a perfectly marvellous idea! Oh, you’re a wonder! How did you understand?’ Benney shouted.

‘It’s the right thing to do for another Camp Fire Girl. We’re going to have a particularly jolly meeting, and it’s at half-past six; the Abbey closes at six. We’re meeting here, in the ruins,’ Maidlin explained. ‘We’ve never done it before; we meet in the Village Hall in winter and in the woods in summer. To-night we’re meeting in the Abbey; we’ve asked leave, and Joan—Mrs. Raymond, the owner of the Abbey—has said we may do it. If you’d like to stay, you could easily get home afterwards. I suppose you come from town?’

‘Oh, easily! Oh, Mother, will you let me stay? Jim, could you come back? Were you going anywhere to-night? It’s the first day of the holidays! For a very special treat, Mother!’

Mrs. Bennett and Jim were looking doubtful. ‘You don’t want the kid on your hands all that time. It’s only half-past three,’ Jim began.

‘I have to go out to dinner to-night,’ Mrs. Bennett said. ‘I ought to be getting home soon. I was going to leave Benney alone at home.’

‘Oh, that settles it!’ Maidlin exclaimed. ‘Leave her with me, and let her brother fetch her. She can’t have had many Council Fires yet.’

‘Only two, and the last one when I had my ring.’ Benney was tremulous with eagerness. ‘I took my name; I’m Ohitaya, “to be brave.” Oh, Mother darling, let me stay!’

‘You ought to belong to Camp Waditaka; we’re the Brave or Adventurous People. Will you let her stay?’ Maidlin looked at Mrs. Bennett.

‘Mother, I simply must! Jim doesn’t mind coming back; do you, Jimmy? What’s your Camp Fire name, Maidlin?’

‘Nawadaha, the Singer.’

‘Oh, yes! The Sweet Singer, out of Hiawatha!’

‘I call it just “The Singer”, you know.’ Maidlin coloured and laughed.

‘It’s far too good of you,’ Mrs. Bennett began. ‘It would be a very great treat to Benedicta.’

‘Then you’ll let her stay. That’s all right! We shall have finished by nine,’ Maidlin looked at Jim.

‘I’ll turn up about nine,’ he promised.

‘Don’t let us down and leave me on her hands for the night! I’d love it, if you did, but it wouldn’t be——’

‘Don’t be an ass, Ben!’ said Jim. ‘I’ll be here prompt at nine.’

‘We really ought to go, I’m afraid,’ Mrs. Bennett began.

‘You must see the sacristy; there’s a fine rose window—round this way. And here is the site of the great church, with the bases of the pillars still remaining. Do you want to see the crypt? It’s rather wonderful; the oldest part of the Abbey, of course, with Saxon pillars, and the tomb of the first Abbot, Michael, whose figure you saw on the gate-house.’

‘Benney hasn’t seen the gate-house yet; she came by a bridge and a path across the field.’

Maidlin nodded. ‘I’ll show it to her. Here is the rose window. After this, we’ll go underground.’