Читать книгу Schooldays at the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 7

Table of Contents

“I hope you’ve rested, Aunty. You know what we’re going to do to-day, don’t you?” Janice was bright-eyed and eager as she greeted her aunt next morning. “You feel up to it, I hope? I couldn’t possibly wait another day.”

“You’re going to drag me out into the country, to see ruins,” her aunt agreed. “Have you been dreaming about the dancing and the Queens?”

“I’ve been thinking about them,” Janice admitted. “I want to see the Abbey, where those two girls live. You want to see it, too, don’t you, Aunty? We can go nearly all the way by train.”

“I want to see it, certainly. But we won’t start too early; you want to make a day of it and have some lunch in the village, don’t you?”

“A picnic would be splendid, if you’re sure you don’t mind,” Janice said gratefully.

“This is great sport!” she cried, as soon after twelve o’clock they crossed a village green, selected a very white cottage, and asked for tea and bread-and-butter and fresh eggs. “Much more fun than proper lunch in the hotel! And we’re on the spot; we can go right along to the Abbey as soon as we’re ready. Up this lane, the woman said.”

The sun was shining and the garden, full of daffodils and forget-me-nots, was sheltered. At Jandy’s enthusiastic suggestion lunch was spread on a small table out of doors, and she threw crumbs to the chaffinches and robins, and made friends with a sleepy black cat.

“Now for the ruins! I feel ready for any amount of ancient history!” she cried exuberantly. “I hope you won’t be bored, Aunty, dear. I mean to see every corner of the old place.”

“I’m eager to see it too,” Miss Fraser retorted. “I haven’t heard as much as you have, of course. Mr. Abinger didn’t tell me stories of his old home! But I’ve heard enough——”

“Oh, call him Uncle Tony, Aunty! ‘Mr. Abinger’ sounds so stuffy! I’ve asked you, over and over again.” They were walking up a lane under great arching trees which were still bare, though their branches were crimson with leaf-buds and looked almost purple in the sunshine.

“He wasn’t your uncle, Jandy.” Miss Fraser was gently obstinate on the point. “You may call him what you wish. I prefer to use his name.”

Janice sighed. “Aunty, dear, there’s a good old Scottish word that Aunt Jean used to use, which just describes you, and that’s ‘thrawn!’ You’re a thrawn woman, and as determined as you can be. All right, call him what you like. I warn you that when I’m of age I shall probably take his name, as he wished me to do, and be Jandy Abinger. I know you don’t want me to do it, but he meant far more to me than my real father.”

Miss Fraser frowned. “I’m not the only thrawn woman, Jandy, dear. I don’t want you to give up your father’s name.”

“Then I’ll be Macdonald-Abinger, or Abinger-Macdonald. Doesn’t it sound clumsy? ... Oh, look, Aunty! Never mind my future name! Look, this is what he told me about!”

She leaned on a white fence and gazed at a pile of old buildings in a meadow, among big trees. Not much could be seen from the lane; just a wall with an arched doorway in it. But above the wall were other walls and windows, and farther up the lane a big gate led past a carriage-drive to a high arched gateway.

“We must go in that way. I want to go inside,” Janice murmured. “Come on, Aunty, dear! Through that lovely arch, and along the road to the little door! There’s a lot to see behind that wall.”

“I don’t see anything that looks like the ruins of a church,” Miss Fraser said, as they went towards the Abbey gate.

“There isn’t any church. It was pulled down by Henry the Eighth; Uncle Tony told me that. The ruins are the places where the monks lived and worked and slept; they were used for farm buildings for centuries, and then his father inherited the place and cleaned it up and made it as it used to be, except for the parts that are broken down. It was jolly fine of him! His house was next door—among those trees, I suppose. Now it belongs to one of those queen-girls; I can’t imagine why.”

“They must be related to Sir Antony Abinger in some way,” said Miss Fraser, pausing in the dark tunnel of the gateway to look up at the vaulted roof.

“Oh, sure! But I want to know how. He ought to have left it to Uncle Tony; after all, Uncle Tony was his only son!”

“If he had, and if Mr. Abinger had lived longer than his father, I suppose it would all have been yours,” her aunt remarked.

Janice gave her a startled look. “I suppose it would. What a staggering idea, Aunty! Mine! He left everything to me. If it had been his—yes, it might have come to me. I say, I’m rather glad it isn’t mine! I’d have felt a little crushed, I think.”

“You’d have grown used to it, Jandy, dear.”

“I suppose so. I’m glad you put the idea into my head. I shall look at it quite differently now. Just suppose it had been my own! I wonder how these other girls feel about it?”

“I expect they are used to it now. But they can’t have had it for so very long; only a few months.”

“How do you make that out? You sound very sure of it,” Janice asked curiously.

“Jandy, dear! Think! Your ‘Uncle Tony,’ as you call him, died two years ago. His father was alive then. You’ll remember that we heard of his death last autumn, through the lawyers. If he had died first, Mr. Abinger would have been Sir Antony, and the lawyers would have had to find him. That was why they were asking about his death last October, when your lawyer told you inquiries had been made. Whether the property was left to him or not, the title would have had to come to him.”

“That’s so,” Janice agreed. “And as he died before his father, old Sir Antony couldn’t leave the place to him. I see that. Then these girls only have it because Uncle Tony was dead.”

“That seems likely. I wonder who they are?”

“Could we ask the caretaker? I suppose there will be a guide or somebody.”

“I’m sure there will; but don’t ask too many questions. You mustn’t gossip, Jandy.”

“I’ll be careful, dear. We’ll see what sort of person comes to show us round.” They left the great gate behind, and crossed a stream by a little bridge on their way to the low door in the wall. Janice peered through the bars that closed the entrance.

“A lawn, Aunty—beautifully green—and the prettiest little windows, with thin pillars, on each side of a dear old grey arch. Shall I ring this bell? Oh, what a clang and clatter! It disturbs all the peace. Now for the caretaker!”

Light footsteps sounded on the stones within, and a gleam of bright bronze hair lit up the gloom of the cloisters. A girl in a green overall unlocked the gate and held it open for them to enter.

“If you’ll wait one moment I’ll call somebody.”

Dumb with surprise and joy, Janice flashed a look at her aunt, as the girl disappeared.

“One of the queens,” Miss Fraser murmured. “You can’t ask questions while she’s here, Jandy. Do be careful!”

“Which of them is it? I never dared to hope we’d see either of them! I shall tell her we were at the coronation.”

“She won’t come back. She’s gone to send the caretaker.”

“I shall ask if we can see her. We’ve a good excuse; we want to say how much we enjoyed last night.”

“If you will come out on to the garth, I’ll describe the Abbey buildings to you.” A sweet low voice came from behind them.

Janice swung round, with a little incredulous gasp. In a low doorway, leading to a room in the wall, stood the second Abbey Girl, wearing a blue overall, her hair tied back from her face, a fluffy grey kitten in her arms.

For one moment Janice stood and stared, completely taken aback. The girl flushed under her gaze, and went in front of her out to the green lawn, putting down the kitten on the grass. It skipped away to join an elderly black cat who was sprawling in the sunshine, tapped her on the head, and danced about her. She flicked her tail sleepily, and rolled round and spread out her paws, and he dropped suddenly beside her and curled up in a little mouse-grey ball.

There was a gleam of laughter in the Abbey Girl’s eyes as she turned to her guests.

“Don’t they look pretty together—the black and grey? He isn’t really her son; he’s only an adopted child; her own babies are generally as black as she is. He was given to me when he was a few weeks old, and she’s such a good mother that she adopted him at once.”

“He doesn’t look like her baby,” Janice agreed.

“Just a foster-child! But they’re great friends. This is the cloister garth, where the monks were buried. You have just come through what is left of the cloisters; if you look back you’ll see them. They once went right round the garth, of course; you can see where the beams fitted into the walls. On the south side is the great refectory, the most perfect part of the Abbey that is left. This is the chapter-house, where meetings were held, and the windows above are those of the monks’ dormitory. Below is the ‘parlour,’ the little room in which they were allowed to talk; they were silent monks, you know. That gap leads to where the church stood, and this was the Abbot’s seat, looking across the garth; but it would be inside the cloisters, of course. Shall we go up into the refectory?”

Janice had heard the general description of the Abbey only very vaguely; but she had had time to recover from her astonishment, and now followed the Abbey Girl with a sufficiently composed and interested face.

The big beautiful hall, up a winding stone stair, was such a surprise as to draw a cry of delight from her. “Oh, how marvellous! I thought it would be dark and poky! What a lovely room! And it’s so light, with those big windows!”

The Abbey Girl’s tone had been polite but formal as she gave her information; that stare in the doorway had disconcerted her, and she had withdrawn a little into herself. Under the warmth of Miss Fraser’s appreciation and the rapture in Jandy’s face, she thawed and forgot herself, and became friendly, though she still had a touch of dignity.

“I’m sure she’s the new Queen—Joan, that lady said,” Janice thought. “She’s as dignified as she was last night, when she came up the hall to be crowned. Even if she was really the caretaker nobody could be rude to her!”

The Abbey Girl was talking of barrel-vaulting and angel-corbels, and showing the reader’s pulpit and the picture tiles with their coats-of-arms.

“They belonged to families who had given gifts to the Abbey,” she explained. “You’ll see some more, on the site of the old refectory, presently.”

As they went down the stair to the garth again, Janice gathered up her courage and asked persuasively, “Will you tell me something? May I ask a question?”

“Oh, please do! I want to tell you all about the Abbey.” Their guide turned to her quickly. “What have I left out?”

“It’s not about the Abbey. It’s about you. Are you the new queen or the old one?”

The Abbey Girl flushed. “Oh, is that it? I wondered why——”

“Why I stared? I’m frightfully sorry, but I was so much surprised. We’d been expecting a caretaker, and your cousin let us in, and then you came. We saw you—or her—crowned last night; Miss Macey was kind enough to invite us. Which are you? You don’t mind my asking, do you?”

“I’m Joan. Joy, my cousin, had to crown me. I thought perhaps you had been there, and that was why you looked like that. You don’t live near here, do you? Most people seem to know us; people have heard about the Abbey, of course.”

“We’ve just come from Australia. This is Miss Fraser, my aunt. I’m Jandy Mac.”

Joan looked at her with a hint of a smile in her brown eyes. “Jandy Mac? What’s the rest of it?”

“Janice Macdonald. We’ve come to see England, and we happened to hear about your May Queen festival, so I begged for tickets. I’d never seen anything like it.”

“I hope you enjoyed it.”

“Every second. I wished it had been twice as long.”

Joan laughed. “We didn’t. It was an ordeal, and it was quite long enough. We were very nervous about the maypole; we had some juniors taking part, and we were afraid they’d tangle the ribbons. But it went quite well; Cicely and Miriam were very much relieved when it was over. They’d taught the girls; they were our two first queens.”

“We thought the dancing was beautiful,” Miss Fraser said. “The girls seemed to enjoy it so much, and they were so full of life. It was all so spring-like.”

Joan gave her a quick look of appreciation. “I’m so glad you felt that. They are spring dances, you know. They belong to May! But I must show you the Abbey. You didn’t come here to chatter about last night. If you will come down this dark little passage I’ll show you the kitchen, under the refectory, and the store-rooms, and the cells where the monks went for punishment or to do penance. Look at this strange little bit of stone carving above your heads! It’s the only piece we’ve found; nobody knows what it’s meant to be. These are the big chimneys; here was the oven.”

“She’s showing it all beautifully,” Janice said to herself, as Joan led the way into the day-room, where the monks had worked. “She knows every single thing about it. But she’s as interesting as the Abbey. We may not have come on purpose to talk to her, but it’s extremely thrilling to have the chance to do it, and I mean to hear more about her before I go!”