Читать книгу Designing Fate - John Sandes - Страница 4

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"Well, this is a delightful surprise, Grace, dear [hugs], for I thought you were hundreds of miles away, looking out on a vast expanse of sheep [more hugs] and utterly forgetful of civilisation. Come up to my room at once, and powder your nose and tell me all about it—how long you are going to stay, and what you intend to do to amuse yourself."

Laura Martin, the capable and by no means bad-looking proprietress of the fashionable St. Kilda boarding-house known as 'The Cedars,' waited until the cabman had deposited Mrs. Hesseltine's portmanteau in the hall and taken his departure. Then she placed her hand lightly on Grace Hesseltine's waist and convoyed her upstairs to a large, lofty room, with a balcony overlooking the bay.

Sitting on the edge of the bed while Mrs Hesseltine removed her hat and her travelling cloak and powdered her nose at the dressing-table, Laura Martin, who had been one of the big girls at the Presbyterian Ladies' College when Grace first attended that august seat of feminine culture, poured out innumerable questions.

"How is Simon?"

Mrs. Hesseltine admitted that Simon was getting old and shaky. His temper did not improve with age, but there was no real vice about him and he never went off his feed. "He just roams about the paddocks," she added, "and when I go out on the verandah with a drink for him, he comes up to me at once."

It appeared presently that Simon was not a horse but a husband. Grace had married him soon after she left school, when she was eighteen and he was fifty-seven; now she was twenty-three and he was sixty-two. Latterly, she had begun to doubt, with a persistence that increased daily, whether it was worth while to be the mistress of Mindaroona if one had to have Simon as well.

"You used to get on with him all right," said Laura Martin, with a vague feeling that her friend was not being quite frank with her. "He's not any worse than he has always been, is he?" she asked sympathetically.

"Not a bit, dear," said Mrs. Hesseltine disconsolately, eyeing the reflection of her pretty face in the mirror with as much interest as if she had never seen it before.

"Well, then, you must buck up, old girl," retorted Laura Martin genially. Most of her paying guests were men, and her conversation was apt to show distinct traces of the fact. "Buck up, and have a good time while you can. You'll be a long time dead, remember."

"It's all very well for you, Laura," replied Mrs. Hesseltine with a distinct quiver at the corner of her mouth. "You have regular occupation here, with your business to run, and constant bustle and variety. When your husband died and you started this boarding-house you were as mournful, morbid, and moping a widow as I ever saw, and just look at yourself now—buxom, jolly, always laughing, and much better looking than you ever were before. It's having regular work to occupy your mind with, I suppose, and lots of men always around you, too."

"You shocking young woman! You'll be calling me a female Mormon next."

"Well, just think how different it is with me. Nobody to talk to but Simon and the maids. Nothing to see but sheep. Nothing to think about but—oh, I can't stand it any longer—I can't, I can't!"

Mrs. Grace Hesseltine, of Mindaroona, N.S.W., mopped her pretty eyes openly with her handkerchief, and in an instant Laura Martin was beside her, and had slipped a sustaining arm round her waist. "You mustn't talk like that, dear," she said. "Tell me all about it. Two heads are better than one, you know."

"But you wouldn't understand, dear," said Grace. "You're so different from me, and you would only think me a fool."

"No, indeed," said Laura. "I think I can guess what it is, Grace," she went on as she smoothed the soft hair of the younger woman almost maternally. "Tell me, dear, tell me!"

"I want a child," said Mrs. Hesseltine, with a despairing note in her voice. "I want a little baby to kiss and love and talk to. I cannot go on living at Mindaroona any longer without one. I am terrified that I shall kill myself some day, Laura, out of sheer misery and loneliness."

"Hush, dear, hush!" said Laura. "Now, I'm just going to make you stay here with me for at least a month, and we'll soon brighten you up and give you such a good time that you'll quite forget how lonely you have been at Mindaroona. By the way, what are you going to put on for dinner?—we dine at half-past six."

"Oh, anything will do," said Mrs. Hesseltine, still mopping her eyes. "My old black crepe de chine, I suppose."

But Laura Martin was already down on her knees on the floor investigating Mrs. Hesseltine's Saratoga. She had a profound belief in the consoling properties of dress. "No, indeed," she said, "you've got to look your best while you're with me. You must wear this lovely white lace over gold tissue."

Mrs. Hesseltine faintly deprecated the white lace over gold tissue, but her objections quickly waned, and soon she temporarily forgot all her unhappiness in an animated discussion with Laura as to which would go best with the gown, a gold band round her hair or the artistic, but rather severe, Greek knot.

Both finally voted for simplicity and the Greek knot.

Laura left the field victorious, and there was an enigmatic smile on her lips as she met Nelly, the housemaid, in the passage.

"How is Mrs. Robertson getting on in number four, Nelly?" she inquired.

"She's doing very nicely, madam," replied the well-trained maid, with a smile, "and the twins are such splendid, healthy little chaps. One of them has been bawling a good bit this afternoon—he seems to have a terrible temper—but the other is as good as gold. Nurse has got them both out on the back verandah now, if you'd like to see them."

But Laura Martin postponed the interview. A wild idea had come into her head, and she wanted to think it out quietly.

The big dining-room at 'The Cedars' was provided with numerous separate tables for the paying guests, and when Mrs. Hesseltine sailed in, rather late, in the wonderful white lace over gold tissue, with her hair done in a Greek knot, she created a mild sensation. Young gentlemen turned their heads and followed her progress with undisguised admiration as she made her way to Mrs. Martin's private table at the far end of the room.

There was much nudging and whispering. A subdued chorus of "Who is she?" went round, and several very plain but expensively dressed ladies looked down their noses and began to talk eagerly to each other about nothing at all. An experienced mind-reader could see by their backs that they were thinking it was a great pity that the young men did not show better taste than to stare at that very conspicuous-looking friend of the proprietress.

Laura congratulated Grace on her improved looks. "My dear," she said, "your frock is perfectly lovely, and the Greek knot is just sweet."

And Grace Hesseltine purred with pleasure. It was much more agreeable, certainly, to dine at this well-ordered establishment, where the paying guests were decidedly presentable and the menu was beyond reproach, than to sit down to a lonely meal with Simon Hesseltine, Esq., of Mindaroona, whose conversation consisted of grumbling at the demands of the Shearers' Union and inveighing against the Government as a gang of robbers.

"Tell me, Grace," said Laura, sipping her claret, "do you ever see anything of the Lintons at Yarralla now? They stayed with me when they came down last year for the Melbourne Cup, just after they were married. He seemed a good sort and she was a very pretty little thing. They are not far from you, are they?"

"Only five miles," said Grace; "I used to drive over fairly often during the winter, to sit and sew with her, although I was horribly envious of her."

"Why on earth should you be envious of her?"

"Oh, didn't you know? The stork called at Yarralla about a month ago. Such a dear little girl baby! That was what finally unsettled me, and made me so restless that I simply had to get away from Mindaroona. So I came down to see you."

The older woman's eyes grew wistful for a moment, but she resolutely shook off the weakness. "That's right, dear. I'll see that you have a good time here, and when you go back you'll be a different woman."

"I wonder," said Mrs. Hesseltine. "Do you know, Laura," she continued after a short pause, "I heard a baby crying somewhere upstairs this afternoon, and it brought back all the old pain. I didn't know you accepted people with babies as guests. The poor little things are quite barred at most places nowadays, aren't they?"

Laura Martin sat back in her chair and shot a curious glance at her visitor. "Well," she said, "I wasn't going to tell you about it, but now I suppose I must. My dear, I haven't merely got one baby in this well-regulated establishment—I have two."

"Twins?" ejaculated Mrs. Hesseltine.

"Yes, twin boys," replied Mrs. Martin, "and beautiful babies too, as like each other as two new bright shillings. The mother is a Mrs. Robertson—an Englishwoman, I fancy—who came here a couple of months ago, and I really hadn't the heart to tell her that I couldn't take her in when she told me her story."

"I'm so glad!" said little Mrs. Hesseltine simply.

"To tell you the truth, I was a little bit suspicious about her at first," continued Mrs. Martin, "but I could see that she was a lady, and I was so much impressed by her that at last I let her have the big double room on the second floor. And that's where the twins were born, five weeks ago."

"Oh," ejaculated little Mrs. Hesseltine, "I simply must see them!"

"Mrs. Robertson told me," continued Laura Martin, "that her husband was an officer in some regiment stationed on the Indian frontier—I've really forgotten the outlandish name of the place. Poor thing! she had only been married a couple of months when he was killed in that wretched little expedition against the wild tribes near the Afghan border. You remember there was a lot about it in the newspapers at the time. Of course, his death was a fearful shock to her, and she left India at once. She told me quite frankly that she was very badly off, and that she came to Australia because she thought she could live more cheaply here than in England. Then the twins arrived, and there she is. Goodness knows what she will do now. She has paid up all right so far, but I know she is awfully hard up, poor thing, and I'm quite certain she can't afford to stay here much longer. I was just wondering——"

"What?" said Mrs. Hesseltine, leaning forward in her chair with her eyes shining.

"I was just wondering where she will go when she leaves 'The Cedars,'" replied Laura Martin, looking at her visitor irresolutely. "It will be so awkward for her, won't it?"

"Do you think——" began Mrs. Hesseltine tentatively.

"No, I don't——" snapped Mrs. Martin. "I'm quite certain she wouldn't."

"But I didn't say anything," retorted Grace Hesseltine, opening her eyes wide.

"No. But I know what you were going to say," put in her friend Laura, "and I'm quite certain you oughtn't to tempt her."

"I have more money than I know what to do with," said Mrs. Hesseltine obstinately.

"And no children," said Laura, looking her friend straight in the face.

"Well, she has more children than she knows what to do with, and no money," muttered Mrs. Hesseltine rebelliously. "I don't see why it shouldn't be managed."

"I won't have anything at all to do with it," said Laura Martin. "I'm not going to encourage you in such a mad idea. What do you think Simon would say?"

"I don't care two straws what Simon would say," retorted Mrs. Hesseltine, "and he knows it. Besides, I think he ought to be delighted if I could find a little happiness that way."

"Very well, dear," said Laura nervously, "we'll talk it over afterwards." She knew from experience that paying guests have very long ears. One of the plainest and most expensively dressed of the ladies at the table behind them was obviously putting a terrible strain upon her aural nerves.

As the elegantly gowned little lady from Mindaroona sailed down the long room towards the door accompanied by the stately proprietress, Mr. Sharp, a rising young solicitor, nudged his friend Mr. Call, one of the best known members of the Stock Exchange Club. "Did you watch their faces?" said the astute legal gentleman. "I gather that the little one has just proposed to Laura that they should blow up Parliament House. And Laura would rather like to undertake the job, if she wasn't so scared."

However, the dark plot took definite shape as Grace Hesseltine and her trusted school-friend of early days sipped their coffee in Mrs. Martin's dainty sitting-room.

"Do ask the nurse to bring them in here and let us look at them," said Mrs. Hesseltine, clasping her hands together in excited anticipation.

Laura Martin held out for fully five minutes, but Grace refused to be pacified with promises, and at last, in response to a smiling request from Mrs. Martin, the white-clad nurse undertook to ask Mrs. Robertson if she might show the babies to Mrs. Martin's friend.

"Ask Mrs. Robertson to come too," said Grace Hesseltine.

And so it came about that the tall pale dark-eyed woman left her room on the second floor, attended by the white-aproned nurse with a twin on each arm, and entered Mrs. Martin's cosy little sitting-room, to find the proprietress chatting with a pretty little fluffy-haired woman who was beautifully dressed and evidently knew it.

Laura introduced the pair in an easy, graceful sentence or two.

"Really, Mrs. Robertson, I'm a perfect fool about babies," prattled the little lady from Mindaroona, "and I am just dying to see yours. What a pair of darlings!" She cooed over the twins, who were still in the nurse's arms. The hair of one was a little darker and more curly than that of the other. But with the exception of that small distinction the babies were facsimiles.

"The dark one is Humphry," said Mrs. Robertson, with a rather wan smile, "and the fair one is Harold. But Harold is sure to get darker as he grows older, and there are gleams of gold in Humphry's hair that make me wonder whether he is not going to be as fair as his brother eventually. Do take one of them in your arms, if you would like to, Mrs. Hesseltine."

"Oh, might I really?" chirped Grace delightedly. "I'll be ever so careful." She scrutinised the infants closely. Humphry regarded her with a solemn stare that plainly portended distrust, if not disapproval. Harold gurgled and actually smiled.

After a moment's hesitation Mrs. Hesseltine selected Harold, and the nurse, by one of those movements which to the unskilful resemble legerdemain deftly transferred the infant in its absurdly long petticoats to the eager arms of the baby-worshipper.

Mrs. Robertson dropped much of her chilly reserve and became almost communicative in the pleasant companionship of Grace and Laura. The twins were a common bond of interest, and taking Humphry from the nurse, Mrs. Robertson sat down with him opposite Simon Hesseltine's pretty wife, who crooned contentedly over her borrowed infant.

When the nurse announced that it was bottle time and proceeded to remove Humphry from his mother's arms, the infant signified its disapprobation by bellowing loudly. But Harold accepted every change of guardianship quite calmly.

"It's quite wonderful how different those two babies are in temperament already," said Mrs. Robertson. "I sometimes fancy that Humphry is more like me and that Harold is more like his dead father."

When the tall dark-haired woman had said good-night and had followed the twins to their improvised nursery, Mrs. Hesseltine laid her hand upon her friend's arm with an air of quiet determination. "I simply must have him, Laura," she said, "and you have got to arrange it. You can tell Mrs. Robertson all about Mindaroona. Simon settled it on me at my marriage and I shall leave everything to the boy. If she lets me adopt him he will have a much better chance in life than if she keeps him herself, and the cheque that I shall hand her as a guarantee of my good faith will enable her to maintain herself and the other boy in reasonable comfort until she either marries again or can establish herself in some business that will be a living for her."

With many misgivings Laura Martin opened up the delicate negotiations on the following morning. And it happened that she found the mother of the twins in a very desponding mood. Mrs. Robertson was down to her last ten pounds and had not the faintest notion where the next money was to come from.

"Mrs. Hesseltine is prepared to give you a cheque for L500," said Laura Martin, "as security for the due fulfilment of her promise to bring up the child in every respect as if he were her own son, the sole condition being that you give this written undertaking to make no further claim to the boy. She will cause him to be educated in a manner suitable to his position, and every provision will be made for his welfare, financially and otherwise."

The tall dark-haired woman bowed her head upon her hands. When she raised it again her face was the colour of marble. "Give me the paper," she said, "and I will sign it."

Thus it came about that Mrs. Hesseltine, accompanied by another white-aproned nurse carrying a particularly even-tempered baby, went on board the R.M.S. Merkara at Port Melbourne, bound for Sydney, while Mrs. Robertson, with the remaining twin in her lap at 'The Cedars,' abandoned herself to unrestrained weeping.

But presently the tall dark-haired lady dried her eyes, for she had taken her resolution.

Going to her cabin trunk in the corner of the room, she opened it and took out a small silver box of Indian workmanship, so beautifully made that when it was closed it was difficult to see where the lid and the sides met. The casket appeared to be absolutely air-tight and water-tight.

Unlocking the box with a small silver key, she took out a ring with a little green stone surrounded by brilliants, a heavy gold bangle with an inscription on the inside, and three papers. One was a marriage certificate, the others were separate certificates of the birth of twin sons, Humphry and Harold, whose parents were set down in the documents as Hector McLean and Mildred McLean, formerly of Tilgit, in the North-west Provinces of British India.

The dark-haired lady replaced the precious documents in the silver box and also the ring and bracelet. Then she laid upon the top of the certificates a cheque for L500, signed 'Grace Hesseltine' and payable to bearer. Having done this, she locked the silver casket and put it back in her cabin trunk.

"She shall have her cheque back," said the dark-haired lady through her teeth, "and I will have my child again, agreement or no agreement."

Telling Laura Martin that she was compelled to go away for a few days on business and leaving the infant Humphry with his nurse in the care of the proprietress, the lady who was known as Mrs. Robertson, with her last ten pounds in her purse and her cabin trunk packed with a few necessaries for travelling, called a cab and left 'The Cedars.'

The days went by and the weeks passed. But the woman who was known as Mrs. Robertson returned no more, and all Mrs. Martin's advertisements and inquiries were fruitless.

The mother of the twin babies had vanished as completely as though the solid earth had opened under her feet and then closed over her again.