Читать книгу Mary Wakefield - Mazo de la Roche - Страница 13

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Leaving Dr. Ramsey in the sitting-room Philip ran upstairs to look for Mary and the children. At the foot of the second flight of stairs he stopped and listened. Then he called softly:

“Meggie!”

All was silent above. He went up and looked into the children’s rooms. They were empty. He went to the door of Mary’s room and tapped.

“Miss Wakefield!” he called low.

“Yes?” Her answer came quickly but she did not open the door.

“Look here, my father-in-law’s downstairs and he’s anxious to meet you. He’s a stickler for convention—going into mourning and that sort of thing. I wonder if you could find a dark-coloured dress to put on. I hate to bother you, but you know what the Scotch are. I think we’d better make a good impression, don’t you?”

There was the tone of a conspirator in his voice that filled Mary with a delighted eagerness to do his will. She said:

“Thank you so much for telling me. If you’ll just wait a moment I’ll show you what I have.”

Mary had lived in an unconventional atmosphere in London with her father. Now, slipping into a dressing-gown she opened the door a little way and stood before Philip holding up a dark blue skirt in one hand and a white blouse in the other. He scarcely saw the garments. His eyes were held by the pearl-like whiteness of her arms and neck, the V-shaped bit of chest exposed.

“Splendid,” he said. “Will you get into them then and come right down?”

Philip did not know and could not learn how to behave toward a governess, any more than Mary knew how to behave like one. She gave a happy little laugh.

“I’ll be down before you can count ten,” she promised.

He turned away and almost ran into Mrs. Nettleship, her arms full of the children’s clothes freshly laundered. Her expression was a strange mixture of shock and the confirmation of her worst suspicions. She elaborately moved aside for Philip to pass, though the passage was not narrow.

“I beg your pardon,” she said.

“What for?” asked Philip.

“Well, I have my felt slippers on and they don’t make a bit of noise. I thought I might have frightened the lady.” There was a faintly derisive lingering on the word “lady”.

“Miss Wakefield has nothing to be frightened about.”

He was still frowning as he re-entered the sitting-room.

“So she’s not to be found,” said Dr. Ramsey.

“She’ll be down directly.”

“Oh. You say your mother engaged her?”

“Among them they did.”

“I should have prefaired a Scotswoman.”

“Why didn’t you say so then?”

“I have always said so.”

“My mother doesn’t get on with the Scotch.”

“Scots,” corrected Dr. Ramsey.

“Scots. She doesn’t get on with them.”

“She gets on with me.”

“She’s had to, sir. You’re her doctor.”

“When is your mother to return?”

“Next month.”

“You must miss her sorely.”

“I do indeed,” said Philip cheerfully.

There was a light step in the hall and Mary stood in the doorway. Not only did she wear the severely plain dark skirt but about her neck she had tied a black ribbon that finished in a bow at her nape. But severity ended there. Her golden hair curled abundantly about her sensitive face. Her lips wore their odd smile that bent downward a little, as though the capacity for pain ever lingered near. Philip introduced her to his father-in-law. When they had shaken hands and sat down, Dr. Ramsey said:

“You have undertaken a great responsibility, Miss Wakefield.”

“Yes, indeed.” She straightened her slender shoulders as though to show her willingness.

“It is no light matter to undertake the teaching of two highly intelligent children.”

“No, indeed.” Mary drew her brows together to show how conscious she was of the weight of the matter.

“Have you a university degree?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t but——”

“Have you considerable experience?”

“No.” Colour rose to her forehead. “You see, I was engaged at the last minute. There had to be someone to take the place of the one who’d broken both legs. I understood that character was required rather than scholarship. That is—under the circumstances—and Mr. Ernest Whiteoak thought—and I thought—” she turned her eyes in desperation toward Philip.

“And I think so, too,” he supplemented firmly.

Dr. Ramsey waved his hand and declaimed: