Читать книгу Priorsford (Historical Novel) - O. Douglas - Страница 7

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'He dwelt in a house by the high road and gave entertainment to all that passed by . . .'

Iliad.

The next day went, as Mrs. McCosh said, like a cried fair.

Breakfast was hardly over when Mrs. Elliot arrived from Laverlaw. She was greeted with enthusiasm by Jean and the children.

Jean sprang up from the rug where she was playing with Quentin, crying: 'Pamela, how good of you to come so early. And look at your flowers! It was so cheering to find them here last night.'

Pamela Elliot was taking off the long cape she wore.

'Yes,' she said. 'I thought flowers would be the best welcome. I'd have come myself, but I was afraid I'd merely be in the way. . . . Well, this is fine! I don't believe Quentin knows me: he's hiding his face. . . . Jean, I think Alison is like me.'

Jean regarded her small daughter, such a square little figure beside the tall elegance of her aunt.

'I hope you're right,' she said. 'I'd like her to have your height and grace, but I confess I see little sign of it at present.'

'I was rotund at that age, too.'

Jean shook her head. 'I can't believe it. I can't picture you anything but long and slim. But you do look well, and so young: younger than you looked ten years ago when you came first to Priorsford, and stayed at Hillview with Bella Bathgate, and lived almost entirely on a diet of duck eggs and stewed steak and carrots! Why did you do it, Pamela? I never really understood what brought you to Priorsford.'

Pamela laughed, as she settled herself in a corner of the sofa.

'This was my special place, you remember? I used to sit here with my embroidery and spread my silks all about. . . . Is it ten years, Jean? Unbelievable!'

'Ten years,' said Jean. 'In some ways it seems much longer. . . . Pam, dear, why did you come to Priorsford?'

'For one thing, darling, I liked the name. It beckoned to me, like St. Anthony in Roseland. . . . As a matter of fact, when I first knew Lewis he used to talk to me about the little town among the hills, and when it suddenly came over me that I was growing old (now, at fifty, I feel quite young!) and that I had done nothing worth while with my life, I longed for simplicity, for time to think; and, remembering Lewis' little town, I set out for it. . . . I had written for rooms, but how could I judge without seeing them? When I met Miss Bathgate and her chilly welcome and crept to a bed that seemed to be stuffed with cannon-balls, I all but turned tail and fled back to London. . . . In which case, Peter, my lad, you wouldn't have been in the world.'

'Not me neither?' Alison asked.

'Not you neither, nor Quentin: you're all part of the Red King's dream.'

'That's from "Alice,"' said Peter. 'Aunt Pam, are there any puppies at Laverlaw?'

'Three,' his aunt told him, after a minute's thought.

'Oh, Mummy, I'll take Black Douglas to see them?'

'Who?' said Pamela.

'Peter's puppy,' Jean explained. 'His whole name is "Black-Douglas-tender-and-true".'

'I must see him. Fetch him, Peter, do.' And as Peter ran willingly on his errand, Pamela turned to her sister-in-law, saying: 'Do you know, Jean, I sometimes positively shiver when I think of the little accidental happenings that mean so much. When I think how easy it is to miss one's happiness. . . . It's quite true, if I hadn't come to Priorsford in all probability I'd never have met Lewis again, Biddy would never have found you--It hardly bears thinking of.'

'But,' said Jean, 'if you believe that everything is ordained from the beginning----'

There was a sound of scuffling and Black Douglas burst into the room, knocked over Quentin, leapt on Pamela and licked her face, then threw himself in the air in an attempt to reach the ham which had not yet been removed from the sideboard.

'Heavens!' cried Pamela, 'he's not a dog, he's a tornado!'

'I've got a gold-fish, too,' said Peter, 'called "Baxter".'

Pamela, vainly trying to protect herself from the puppy's affectionate onslaughts, became convulsed with helpless laughter. 'Take him away, Peter,' she gasped, 'and fetch the gold-fish: he'll be a more restful companion. . . . Ninny, how do you put up with this all day long? But you seem to thrive on it.'

The children and the puppy were removed, so that a peaceful talk was possible. At last Pamela said: 'I'm taking up all your morning. What should you be doing now?'

'Nothing,' said Jean, 'nothing that matters. Some time I'm going to see The Neuk and Betty Barton.'

'Betty--oh, the secretary. I remember her. Let's go now, shall we?'

The two eldest children were waiting, ready, and, as they all went down the flagged path bordered by lavender bushes, Jean said:

'Hadn't we better shake hands with Miss Bathgate? I haven't seen her for an age. . . .'

Miss Bathgate herself opened the door, dressed at that early hour in her best brown coat-frock and cairngorm brooch, and, after greeting the party, took them into 'the good room,' where a fire was burning.

'Would ye like a piece?' she asked the children, and, on the principle of never refusing a good offer, they promptly said they would.

'Oh, don't trouble, please,' Jean pleaded, but Miss Bathgate, remarking 'They're in the lobby press,' stalked out of the room and returned with a plateful of sugar-biscuits.

'Bairns like fancy biscuits,' she said. '. . . And how are ye yersel', Lady Bidborough? I hevna seen ye for an age, but ye're no that much changed.'

She turned to study the children. 'That laddie,' she said, indicating Peter, 'is like his faither. When Mhor was his age he was an awfu' bonnie laddie. . . . I dinna ken who the lassie's like.'

Pamela thought it the moment to thrust herself into the conversation.

'I had such a happy time in this room,' she said.

'Ye hed that,' Bella agreed. 'But I daresay ye hardly recognise it noo. I've improved it a lot.' She looked proudly round. 'This suite was made for me: the sideboard's a beauty. I got the carpet at a sale. It's an Axminster, an' I keep a crumbcloth on it when I let ma rooms.' She added, 'I've got to be carefu' who I let into my rooms since I refurnished them.'

'Quite,' said Pamela, while Jean stooped to pick up the crumbs left by the children on the carpet. 'You've no one at present?'

'Ma last lot went last week--two maiden ladies from Arbroath. I never tak' men: they've nesty ways--tobacco smoke in ma curtains an' hot suppers.' Jean got up to go, explaining that they were on their way to see The Neuk.

'Ay,' said Miss Bathgate, 'it's a braw hoose. A daft-like thing to keep a secretary and servants in't. Ye'd be better there wi' the bairns than in The Rigs.'

'Perhaps,' Jean agreed meekly, 'but I wanted to be in the old place. Sentiment, I suppose.' She smiled as she held out her hand. 'It is nice to see old friends again. Say "Thank you," children, for the biscuits.'

'Never,' said Pamela, as they found themselves out on the road, 'never did I know anyone who could so put one in one's place and keep one there as Bella Bathgate!'

'She certainly doesn't encourage conceit,' Jean said. 'I gather that she found me changed and aged, the children almost painfully plain: you far from reaching the level of what she thinks a boarder should be. . . . It's rather refreshing, don't you think? Mrs. McCosh is another who is entirely unimpressed by anyone's importance. No deference to be expected from that couple--This is The Neuk. What a nice garden! Look, Peter, a swing!'

The Neuk was a solid, well built villa, complete with all modern conveniences and comfortably furnished.

The sisters-in-law found Miss Barton installed in a small sunny room opening into the garden. She had arranged the typing machine, her books, and stacks of papers, very neatly on a plain oak table, and, trim in a tweed frock, was working busily when discovered.

'We've met before,' Mrs. Elliot said, as she shook hands. 'How do you find yourself? It all looks very business-like, and this is a pleasant writing-room, quiet, and out of the way.'

'Yes, quite.' Standing very erect, Betty Barton was almost the same height as Mrs. Elliot.

'Well, I think you'll like Priorsford. We'll hope to see you all at Laverlaw one day soon.' She turned away to look at the pictures on the wall, while Jean turned over some letters.

'Bring these in this afternoon, will you, Barty?'

'Yes, Lady Bidborough.'

'Coming, Pamela? We're going to look over the house, Barty. Good-bye, just now.'

Mrs. Elliot was pondering as they looked through the rooms.

'When the boys come they'll put up here, of course. Will Miss Barton preside over things?'

'Yes,' said Jean, 'I suppose so. I hadn't really thought of it.'

'She's very young, you know, and quite remarkably good-looking. Is it quite wise, d'you think?'

'You mean, it isn't quite fair to Barty? She's a nice girl, you know, Pamela.'

'I'm sure she is. I don't care much myself for that type of chill young woman. Very assured. Very competent. Where did you get her?'

'Some one told me about her who had known her people. Her father was killed, and her mother died, leaving Barty and a younger brother. There was enough to educate them and leave a little over. Barty was at Somerville and did very well. She's far too good for what I require, but I can't spare her: she's such a stand-by to me, and I've learned to trust her judgment: over and over again she's proved right and I've been wrong.'

Pamela shook her head. 'No wonder Miss Barton has an omnipotent air. Very bad for the young woman to be always in the right. But it's a blessing you have such a person when Biddy is away.' She looked at her wrist-watch. 'Half-past twelve! I must be getting back. . . . I've people coming for luncheon.'

'Oh--I hoped you'd stay with us. When will you and Lewis come? To-morrow? Saturday?'

'Saturday would be nice; and you must come in a body to Laverlaw and spend a long day as often as you can. . . . Jean, I want to know, how d'you mean to live at The Rigs?'

'Live?' Jean looked questioningly at her companion.

'Yes. Are you going to be content with the children, with Lewis and me, and perhaps one or two of your old friends, or are you going to enter into the life of Priorsford (which I understand is a perfect welter of tea-parties and bridge), and be at every one's beck and call?--as you are, my dear, at Mintern Abbas: they take advantage of you: I know it.'

Jean grinned broadly. 'You make me sound something between a worm and a busybody! No, I don't mean to fling myself into the giddy whirl of Priorsford--I've neither the time nor the desire for it--but I shall enjoy seeing my old friends, dear Mrs. Hope, and Miss Janet Hutton, and others, and while I'm living here I'll help in any way I can. . . . Biddy thought it would be quite a good plan for Peter and Alison to go to school. I'm sure Miss Main would give Peter a taste of school before he goes to Evelyn's. I must go and see her at once. I wish Elspeth was still there.'

'The daffodil girl! She's married, isn't she?'

'Yes, to a naval man; and they've got a beautiful blue-eyed boy, exactly like Elspeth, I'm told.'

'How nice. Well it seems to me you'll be a very busy woman all winter, Jean, girl, with two houses to run, and the children, not to speak of the worry of administrating Peter Reid's estate.'

'That's the real snag,' said Jean. 'I never feel myself anything but a steward, and I've got to worry much more than if it had been my own.'

'But what about the boys? I thought you divided it up.'

'I tried to. I wanted us all to share and share alike. But the lawyer didn't approve, and when he said Peter Reid wouldn't have approved, I had to give in. Of course they each got so much; quite a lot really. Davy and Jock have got theirs--Gervase gets his when he's twenty-one--Davy needs his, for he doesn't make much at the Bar, and he goes out a lot and entertains.'

'And likes everything of the best,' Pamela added. 'Jock's in an office, isn't he?'

'Yes,' Jean laughed. 'He's supposed to be learning something of finance, but I'm afraid his heart's not in it. Give him birds and beasts and the open air. Natural history is his craze. Oh, Pam, there's Miss Hutton. I must speak to her.'

Jean flew on, and when Pamela made up on her, she was saying to her old friend: 'I hardly dared hope you'd be staying at home this winter. You generally go away, don't you?'

'Generally, but last winter disheartened me. It was really worse weather in the Riviera than it was in Priorsford. It seems silly to leave one's own fireside and friends, brave the channel, and bore oneself with strangers, all for the sake of sunshine which often isn't forthcoming. So this year I thought I'd risk a winter at home.' Miss Hutton turned as Pamela came up, remarking: 'Lady Bidborough looks well.'

'Oh, don't, Miss Janet,' Jean protested. 'I've been Jean to you all my life and I won't be anything else. Tell me, how is every one?'

'More or less well, I think. The Miss Watsons are not so clever on their legs, but their tongues are as nimble as ever: they are still the town-criers!'

'And Mrs. Duff-Whalley,' said Jean: 'what of her?'

'That awful woman!' said Pamela. 'One would almost need to barricade oneself against her! Snubbing has no effect. She's worn down every one else, and I know she'll wear me down in time.'

'Oh, I know,' said Miss Hutton, 'but I'm not sure that Mrs. Duff-Whalley isn't good for us. She hunts us round and gives us something to talk about. Life in Priorsford would be much duller without her.'

'I can't agree,' Pamela declared. 'If she were clever or amusing or even wicked, but she's only the worst sort of climber. I'm sorry for the daughter: she has a hunted look. . . . Where has Jean gone now?'

Jean had noticed the Miss Watsons, two small, very voluble elderly ladies, hanging round, obviously in two minds whether to stop or walk on. When Jean called to them they started with well-simulated surprise.

'Fancy! Lady Bidborough! You here! Who would have thought it,' they exclaimed in unison.

Jean knew that the two ladies were probably primed with every detail of her coming to Priorsford, the why and wherefore of it, The Neuk, the secretary, the maids--but she smiled at them and said:

'My husband has had to take a sick friend for a voyage, and I've come with the children to spend the winter in Priorsford. You must come and see us.'

The Miss Watsons beamed and murmured: 'Oh, I'm sure. How kind: very pleased indeed: how nice,' while Jean ran back, rather conscience-stricken, to her sister-in-law.

'Pam, dear, I am so sorry to keep you waiting, but I had to shake hands with the Miss Watsons.'

'Jean,' Pamela said solemnly, as they went round to get the car, 'before you know where you are you'll be in a vortex.'

'I know; Biddy said so too. Somehow, I seem to collect people; I suppose because I like them and am interested in them. I'm terribly sorry, Pam, but I'm afraid I could never be exclusive.'

Pamela laughed as she kissed her sister-in-law.

'You like,' she said, 'to live in a house by the high road and be a friend to man--and what's more you'll always manage it!'