Читать книгу Strangers at the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 9

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Rykie sat silent as the car climbed to the hills. “These people may be quite nice, and I think they want to be kind. But they can’t understand,” was her conclusion.

Jen glanced across at her. “Don’t you like our hills?”

Rykie looked round doubtfully. “I don’t see any hills. Where do you mean?”

Joan laughed and Joy snorted. Jen cried indignantly, “We’ve just come up a terribly steep hill! You should try it on a bike!”

“Oh, that! It was a bit steep; I thought she managed the car awfully well,” with a glance at Joy’s back. “But there aren’t any other hills?”

“We’re on the hills,” Joan explained. “Jen, I imagine Rykie is used to Scottish mountains, just as you are used to moors. You can’t expect her to be impressed by our Chilterns!”

Jen lapsed into disappointed silence, while Rykie looked puzzled.

Joy, without comment, drew up, and they sat looking out over the plain, far below. They were on the edge of the hill country, which fell away in a sudden steep slope to the flat land, stretching mile after mile into blue haze.

Jen glanced shyly at Rykie, but said nothing. She loved the view from this point so much that it would hurt to have it greeted with jeers.

“Oh!” Rykie said. “Yes, I see. We’ve been right on the top. It looks like a hill from here. Where are all those places?”

“Thame is just down there. Oxford is in the distance. If you make love to Joy, she’ll take you on a tour some day,” Joan said.

“It’s very pretty,” Rykie owned. And with that Jen had to be content.

“She sounded so superior!” she complained to Joan, later on, with no conception of the grandeur and beauty of the Firth of Clyde, which to Rykie was a familiar scene.

“You don’t sound as if you came from Scotland, Rykie,” Joan remarked. “Why have you no accent?”

“That was Mother. She was English and we learned to talk from her,” Rykie said proudly. “It’s who you’re with when you’re a baby that matters. At school they laughed at us and called us English kids. But I had Mother till I was six, and Belle was ten.”

Joan had smiled at the slip in grammar but made no comment. That could come later.

“That explains your English voice,” she agreed.

Joy drove on, and the car turned into the winding road which led down to the plain.

“There’s the Abbey,” Jen said. “And the Hall—and the Manor.”

“The Hall’s where we’re going, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Joy’s house. The Abbey belongs to Joan.”

“Show me the Hall! I don’t know what you mean by the Abbey.”

“The grey house is the Hall,” Joan said. “You can see it because of the lawns all round; the trees don’t crowd it. See the blossom in the orchard! The apple trees are in full flower. The white house next door is the Manor. You shall see the Abbey to-morrow; the ruins are in the garden of the Hall.”

“Oh—ruins!” said Rykie, in a tone of complete indifference. “I like new, modern places.”

“I bet you do.” Joy grinned over her shoulder at Jen, who was keeping very quiet. Her eyes were smouldering, but she held herself in and said nothing.

Joan laughed and slipped a hand through her arm. “We could tell you stories about this winding road, Rykie. It has to bend and turn, because the hill is so steep; farm carts couldn’t manage it, if it went directly up the slope. But do you see this very straight track, cutting across the road and going right up the hill? It’s the Monks’ Path, and is older than the road. The monks from the Abbey used to climb up to a quiet little cell at the top of the hill to meditate and pray, and that was the way they went.”

“How interesting!” Rykie said politely. “How soon shall we see the house?”

Joan’s eyes met Jen’s in a sympathetic look. “In a moment now. Here is the gate,” Joan said.

“The house isn’t modern, my lamb,” said Joy. “It’s old and very fine; Tudor, if you know what that means. Before we reach it, you may please admire the beech avenue, which is one of my treasures.”

“Joy is very proud of her trees,” Joan added.

The double row of huge beeches on each side of the carriage drive made a grey wall, touched with the freshest of young green, where the leaves were opening. A shimmering emerald curtain seemed to hang overhead like fairy gauze; a carpet of dull red lay beneath.

“Last year’s leaves. They’re always there,” Joy said. “It would take years to sweep them away; and we like to see them.”

“What a huge place!” Rykie sounded rather awed. “Is this all yours? How big is the garden?”

“This is the little home park. The garden is by the house, and the orchard is behind.”

“I say, you are lucky, aren’t you?”

“That,” said Joy grimly, “is why you’re here, my child.”

“I don’t understand,” Rykie said, startled.

“Think it out for yourself. Or ask Jen. She knows.”

Jen had seized the chance to whisper a word to Joan. “She doesn’t care two hoots about the monks.”

“No, she’s not interested. Perhaps she’ll care more when she has been here a little while.”

“When she’s seen the Abbey, do you think? I don’t believe she’ll like it.”

“I think perhaps she won’t care very much. Here we are, Rykie. How do you like Joy’s house?”

The grey mansion stood on a terrace, gracious and beautiful, with long, mullioned windows looking over well-kept lawns surrounded by flowering trees. Lilacs and laburnums and red and white hawthorns had scattered their petals on the grass and stood with coloured circles round their feet.

“Oh!” Rykie said. “What a lovely place! Fancy having it for your own!” and she looked enviously at Joy.

“Out you go! I’m taking the car round to the garage,” Joy commanded.

Joan led the younger girls by the terrace steps to the great door. “You’ll take Rykie upstairs at once, won’t you, Jen? Show her her room and the bathroom, and help her to tidy herself before supper. I must speak to Mother; she’ll be disappointed to hear we didn’t see Belle.” She turned to Rykie. “Mother’s not strong. I begged her to stay in the warm room and not come out to the door; we can’t risk any illness for her. But I’m afraid—yes, I thought so!” as a door opened into the great hall and the frail, white-haired little lady appeared. “Hop off and make yourself decent!”

Rykie, overawed by the size of the hall, with its dark oak furniture, long stained-glass windows with coloured coats-of-arms, and the wide staircase leading to a gallery, followed Jen without a word.

“What a whacking big house!” she murmured.

Joan went quickly to her mother and drew her back to the fire. “That was bad of you, dear. You promised me you’d wait for us in here. You shall see Rykie presently. I’ve sent her up to wash her face.”

“To wash?” Mrs. Shirley echoed dazedly.

“After the journey,” Joan explained. “We didn’t see Belle; Rykie came alone, but she didn’t mind. She isn’t shy. Sit down, dear; I want to tell you something. Rykie explained about Belle, who is trying to be a film star. She hasn’t reached that point yet, but she has ambitions that way and she’s been in one picture already.”

“A film star?” Mrs. Shirley exclaimed. “Oh, Joan, how very unlike her dear mother!”

“Unlike all our family, I’m quite sure. Joy and Jen are jeering at the thought of my having a cousin in films. Belle’s off to Hollywood.”

“How unfortunate!” Mrs. Shirley said, much disturbed.

“Oh, I don’t know! I suppose it’s a fine career, if she’s any good, and Rykie’s sure she’s first class. She’s going with friends; she’ll be all right. But obviously she couldn’t take a kid of fourteen with her. She had a sudden chance to travel with people she knew, so she’s dashing off to-morrow, and she hadn’t time to come with Rykie. But this is what I want to tell you, Mother. The girls have evidently been among theatrical people lately, and Rykie arrived made-up like a little actress. I couldn’t let you see her in all that paint and powder, so I sent her to wash off as much as she could.”

“She was dolled up like a shop-window puppet,” said Joy from the doorway. “She looked a perfect sight. I think she was trying to impress us; country cousins, you know.”

Mrs. Shirley exclaimed in dismay. “Oh, my dears, how very distressing! And how foolish!”

“Crazy,” Joy said. “Belle must be mad. It’s a good thing you didn’t see her.”

“I didn’t want you to see her looking like that, Mother,” Joan said earnestly. “I expect she’s nice enough really. As for impressing anybody, Joy has done most of that. Rykie is rather stunned by the house, and the grounds, and the car; and I think the sight of the hall, as we came in, quite frightened her. She went off to the bathroom like a lamb.”

“Jenny-Wren will be very good for her,” Joy remarked. “I must go and wash, after driving. Don’t worry, Aunty. We’ll soon civilise her.”

“This is very disturbing,” Mrs. Shirley said unhappily.

“Mother dear, please don’t worry!” Joan begged. “I’m sure it will be all right.”

“Don’t let yourself be disturbed by young Rykie,” Joy said. “Joan and Jen and I can cope with her between us.”