Читать книгу My Lady Bountiful - Fred M. White - Страница 8

Table of Contents

There was a charm about Caradoc that could not fail to appeal to Kathleen's artistic feeling. Her first successful issue in fiction she had regarded more in the light of a splendid joke than anything else; but the thoughtful, brooding silence of Caradoc was opening up new fields to her.

The charm of the old place was falling upon her like a mantle. Her imagination was inflamed. There were fresh and original types of character to her hand. And there was the pathos and tenderness of Margaret's love story to crown all. It would be a glorious thing to write a novel all about Caradoc and the people there, and to work it all out to a happy ending—the marriage of Margaret, for instance, and the transformation of the twins. But this latter part of the plot puzzled Kathleen exceedingly. She wanted to invent some social cataclysm to bring Mrs. Eldred-Wolfram in line with modernity.

"And that you will never do," said Phillipa. Kathleen and the twins were seated on the lawn by the big sundial. It was a delightful spring morning; the walls of the old house were bathed in sunshine. Beyond the scroll gates the road looked like a ribbon of light. "Aunt is not likely to change."

"Yet she permits me to have my own way," said Kathleen.

"Because you are independent," Edna urged. "If you recollect, she has no power to detain you here. She would never be happy as long as the world could point to an Eldred woman getting her living in a vulgar, practical way. She hopes that in time you will come to our way of thinking."

Kathleen smiled as she looked at the twins. They were dressed in white, with little black cloaks and straw bonnets, more like the bishop's wife's proteges than ever. The twins laughed, too, but they were not in a position to appreciate the humour quite so keenly as Kathleen.

"Prince, prince, come and kiss the sleeping beauty," Phillipa cried. "Behold, a noble young gentleman riding along the road. Is he the prince, I wonder?"

"No, it's Reggie Eldred," Edna said practically. "I believe he's coming here."

"A relative?" Kathleen remarked. "And who may Reggie Eldred be?"

"Why, the heir, of course. Aunt's sister's son. Aunt Lucy, Major Wiltshire's wife, was married first to an Eldred, a cousin or something. But nobody attempts to understand relationships in this family. Anyway, Reggie Eldred comes into all this when Aunt Maria dies. Major Wiltshire is his guardian appointed by the Court of Chancery till Reggie is twenty-five."

"He is coming here," Edna gasped. "He's left his horse at the lodge. I fly."

Phillipa picked up her heels and flew also. They might endure a hard world's gaze in white muslin tuckers and stockings, but under the critical eye of a young man the charity bonnets were impossible.

The young man came slowly up from the drive. He was not particularly nice-looking, Kathleen thought, but he had a pleasant face and steady brown eyes, and that indescribable air that the world over proclaims a gentleman.

"You are my cousin, Kathleen," he said, holding out his hand unaffectedly. "I'm glad you stopped when the twins fled. Poor things, I'm not surprised. If I had fallen under Aunt Maria's sway, I should still be in a velvet suit with a Van Dyke collar. Mr. Merrion told me all about you last night. He broke his journey at Castleford on his way to town. And that's why I came to see you."

He sat down quite coolly by the old sundial and poked at the mossy crannies with his hunting crop. Really, he had very nice eyes.

"I am flattered," Kathleen said demurely.

"Now, don't you get poking fun at me," Reggie Eldred laughed. "Really, you know, I am jolly glad you are here. There's going to be a lot of trouble sooner or later, and as you are so clever, being a novelist——"

"Naturally, I have a brain far above the average."

Reggie nodded. Really, he was a very nice young man. There was something so frank about him.

"So I thought I would come and pay my respects to Aunt Maria, and see you at the same time. You see it's this way. My mother married Major Wiltshire some years ago. The major is a good fellow, but as obstinate as the—as—as they make 'em. He's jolly rich, and not at all ashamed of having a big brewery in London. We were pretty poor before, you know. Well, Aunt Maria, who's clean mad on the subject of the Eldred-Wolframs, made no end of a bother about it. If my mother had been going to marry the village butcher, she couldn't have made a greater tragedy out of the business. Wiltshire is pretty touchy, and the last man in the world to stand any—any——"

"Any nonsense of that kind," Kathleen concluded the sentence.

"That's the word," Reggie said approvingly. "The consequence is that the two sisters are more or less strangers, and once a year the major comes here to formally look over the house; he always brings my mother, because really the major is a very good chap, and he has hopes of a thorough reconciliation. When you see how Aunt Maria snubs him, you will realise that he has a lot to put up with."

"Shall I see it?" Kathleen asked, the novelist side uppermost. "Really!"

"To-day," Reggie went on. "This is the day. I tried to get out of it, but they wouldn't let me off. You've never seen Aunt Maria really on her dignity. But there is extra reason why Wiltshire is desirous of settling the quarrel, if it can be called by so vulgar a name. He's taking a big place close here with a view to buying it. And he's set his heart upon representing this part of the country in Parliament in the ultra Conservative interest. Now Aunt Maria is worshipped by the people about here, and if she sets her face against it, the major hasn't a chance. If you, with that polly clever brain of yours, can only bring her round——"

"She will never be brought round," Kathleen said with deep conviction.

"I'm afraid not," Reggie replied, with a baleful eye for the sundial, "if she crosses the major's pet scheme there will be trouble. You see, he belongs to a new family, and is consequently touchy as to his dignity. If Aunt Maria does not formally call, the county is practically closed to him. And if that happens, the major is certain to fall back upon a wonderfully strong card he has in his hand."

"This is interesting," spoke the novelist. "The setting for the story is perfect, and here is the plot actually unfolding without any trouble on my part. Go on."

"I was going on," said Reggie. "The major only discovered he had the card in his hand a few days ago. Now, Aunt Maria only has a life interest in this property. During that time she can do what she likes with the income. From all accounts, that income has not been nearly sufficient. But there is a way out of the difficulty. Caradoc is crammed with treasures of all kinds. From an artistic point of view the house would be better without half of them. They can be spared. Therefore, Aunt Maria parts with a few from time to time, and in a pleasant and easy way replenishes her exchequer. All that is wrong."

"Why wrong?" Kathleen asked innocently.

"Because they are heirlooms," Reggie explained. "She has no more right to sell them than she has to sell the house. My guardian has found that out. Oh, yes; there is going to be what the Yankees call a heap of trouble here before long."