Authors: Mazo de la Roche
Tags: #FIC045000 – FICTION / Sagas
“Where is Renny?”
“At the Laceys’,” answered Mary. “I think it’s a case, there.”
“The sooner he goes back to college the better,” said Nicholas.
Philip turned to Meg. “Do you think he is very fond of Vera?”
Meg looked inscrutable. “I think he admires her.”
“Since the Show he spends most of his time with her,” said Mary. “If she isn’t here, he is there.”
Adeline interrupted — “Are we here to discuss the whelp’s conduct or to listen to my letter?”
“Fire away, Mamma,” said Philip.
“
Will
you stop that dog’s barking?”
“Down, Keno, down!”
“Now, then, are you all listening?”
“All on the
qui vive
, old lady,” said Nicholas.
Impressively, with strong emphasis on her underlined adjectives, Adeline delivered herself of the letter. Once, at what he considered a false statement of the jumping event, Nicholas would have interrupted, but Philip gave him a kick on the ankle and it was allowed to pass. At the finish Mary exclaimed: —
“What a perfectly wonderful letter!”
Adeline looked at her over her spectacles. “It’s nothing of the sort. It’s a good plain account of our doings. Nothing exaggerated. Nothing, as Saint Paul says, set down in malice.”
“Shakespeare, Mamma,” corrected Nicholas.
“Shakespeare, then. Clever men, both of them, but not to be taken too seriously. So you think the letter will do?”
“Ernest will be delighted,” said Philip. “He’ll read it to everyone of his acquaintance.”
She removed her spectacles, gave a benign look at those about, then noisily drew in the last drops of the barley water. “Ha,” she said, “that’s good! D’ye think it is binding, Philip?”
“It might be — a little. Now — the gun is in good shape, I can tell you. What about it, Keno? Shall we a-hunting go, old boy?”
It was four o’clock before Renny returned. Meg met him in the hall and took him by the lapels of his coat.
“Do you know what they are wondering?” she whispered. “They are wondering if you are in love with Vera. Mother came right out and declared you are.”
“Why are you always moping about the house?” he said. “You have no more colour than chalk.”
She laughed and shook him gently. “
Are
you in love with Vera?”
“You used to have three funny little freckles on your nose,” he said. “But they’ve disappeared. The sun never touches you.”
“If you think you can get out of it with an answer like that, you’re mistaken. I want an answer.”
“Why don’t you cut off that pompadour?” he said. “And make your hair into little curls like Vera’s. Then I might like you.”
“You
are
in love with her! You
are
! But they’ll never let you be engaged! Never! She has told me that the Laceys don’t like your being there so much. And, of course, she’s going home.”
“I’ll tell you all about it,” he said, “and you can help me.”
She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. Then she said: —
“But first you must come and see Peep at his birthday tea! I promised you would.” She led him to the dining room, where the baby sat in state at one end of the large table, on which was an array of small cakes, jellies, and buttered bread. Before him was an iced cake on which two candles burned, their flames reflected in the clear blue of his eyes. From the golden Thames tunnel on the top of his head to the blue silk bows on his shoulders and his blue slippered feet which thudded against the rungs of his high chair, his small being exhaled prideful possession.
“My cake,” he said to Renny and Meg. “My cake. My ’obby-’orse!” He pointed with his spoon to the rocking horse which his grandmother had given him.
She sat on his right, and the sight of her, so massive, so grand, at the table with him, made him forget to eat. Mary and Eden sat on his left. Eden, with the slightly subdued air of the child whose birthday is a long way off and who feels his unimportance of the moment.
“By Jove!” exclaimed Renny. “What a fine horse! You must let me see you ride it, Peep.”
“Now! Now!” cried Peep, struggling to get down.
“Oh, why did you say that, Renny?” said Mary. “We have had a time to get him off it for his tea.”
Renny came and glared at the cake. “Me want cake! Me want cake, now!” he declared.
The baby looked at him severely. “My cake,” he said, but his attention returned to his food.
Eden said to Renny — “That’s a funny way to talk. You don’t talk that way to me.”
“You’re a big boy.”
Mary cut the cake and, as Meg and Renny stood devouring theirs, Adeline asked of him: —
“Where have you been all day?”
“In the stables,” he returned, and smiled at her disarmingly.
As soon as brother and sister could they escaped to her room. There, walking up and down, he poured out the story of his love for Vera and his desire to be married to her before she left for England. If Meg had had doubts on the subject they were swept away by his eagerness, his boyish animation. She planned with him how the secret arrangements could be carried out. She and Vera would go to town together, he would meet them there, and in some remote church, or even in a registry office, the ceremony would be performed.
“What a darling you are, Meggie!” he said. “Vera and I will never forget how you have helped us in this, you may be sure. I wish to goodness that I had an engagement ring for her. It is beastly hard luck that I haven’t enough money for that! If
only
I had won the prize — I could have bought her a beauty!”
“How tragic!” she said, mimicking Malahide’s mincing tone.
“You know, Gran showed me a ring one day that she told me I was to have for my fiancée. The pearl set in diamonds. It would look lovely on Vera’s hand.”
“If I hadn’t given Maurice back his,” said Meg, “you might have had that.”
He did not take to this idea. “It would be unlucky,” he said.
Meg heaved a deep sigh. Her lip trembled, then, after a moment’s thought, she brightened and said: —
“Why don’t you try to get possession of the ring Gran promised you? She said it was to be yours when you became engaged. You
are
engaged, so it is yours to all intents and purposes.”
He looked startled at the suggestion. Such a proceeding would have never entered his head, but it seemed reasonable and just. He said: —
“If only I could lay hands on it!”
“That is the easiest thing in the world,” said Meg. “It’s only her money she locks up. Never her jewels. After supper, when she is settled in the drawing room, we’ll go to her room and, if I don’t find that ring, I’ll eat my hat!”
“That new Merry Widow one?” he demanded, his eyes shining with excitement.
“Yes. We must take a banana with us so that, if we’re discovered, we’ll pretend to be feeding Boney — teaching him something naughty. That will take Gran’s mind off any suspicion.”
Renny regarded her admiringly. There she stood, solid and complete, a world in herself, moving in her own orbit, knowing just what to do. Yet qualms assailed him.
“I wonder if I had better take the ring,” he said. “It seems a queer thing to do.”
She turned on him scornfully.
“
Are
you engaged to Vera?”
“Certainly.”
“
Did
Granny tell you that this ring was for your fiancée?”
“She did.”
“Then why do you think it strange to take it?”
“It seems like stealing.”
“Is it stealing to take your own? Besides, just as soon as you are married you will confess all.”
“What if Gran made me return the ring?”
“She couldn’t. Vera would have it and that would be final.”
“What if she should miss the ring at once?”
“Never! It’s in a box she seldom opens.”
He was convinced. He put his scruples behind him.
It seemed a long while till the lights were on in the drawing room and Meg, reconnoitring, declared the way open. She stood at the foot of the stairs, her round, pretty face alight with mischief, a banana in her hand. As he came softly down the steps to join her he had the hilarious feeling of their days of childish plotting. She took his hand and led him to the door of their grandmother’s room.
There he hesitated, and said — “Look here, why need I go in? You know just where the ring is. I had better wait here and keep watch.”
“Coward!” hissed Meg. “And idiot, too! You may be seen hanging about here. Inside we are safe.” Softly she opened the door and led him in.
“Light a match,” she commanded.
He struck one and she turned up the wick of the low brass lamp. Now its warm light brought the room to life. The painted fruit and flowers of the bedstead showed their rich colours. The ornate wallpaper, the vivid Chinese rug, the mulberry window curtains and polished mahogany, all revealed the sumptuous taste of the occupant. On the mantel stood a delicate statue of the goddess Kuan Yen, her fine porcelain hands like the petals of flowers. The parrot was asleep on his perch.
Meg put the banana into Renny’s hand. “Now,” she said, and she was in her element, “let us waste no time. If you hear anyone coming, give Boney a prod and begin to feed him. Let me see, where does Gran keep this box? Yes, in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe.” She drew out the drawer and disclosed the orderly arrangement of Adeline’s treasures, expensive materials hoarded for many years, ivory fans, a cashmere shawl, lace fichus, and a number of small boxes. The faint scent of bygone gayety rose from them.
Meg pounced on a wine-coloured velvet box.
“Here,” she exclaimed and opened it eagerly. Her soft fingers explored its contents, which, characteristic of Adeline, were a mixture of the valuable and worthless. In triumph Meg held up the ring, a pure pearl surrounded by diamonds.
“
Aren’t
I a good sister?”
“You’re a duck, Meggie! Let me see it.” He took it in his hand, a look of proud determination hardening his features. “It will look well on Vera. Have you noticed her hands?”
“Yes, they’re quite nice. She sleeps in gloves lined with almond paste.”
Renny was silent. He was looking at the cluster of jewels on his palm and thinking what they signified to him and Vera, of their future together, how he would care for and protect her.
Although they had been so quiet they had disturbed Boney. He raised his head, gaped, and spread one wing. His bright eye roved over the room seeking Adeline. It was not right that other people should be there without her. Something in the very attitude of the intruders irritated him. He made noises which were preliminary to an outburst of anger.
“Pretty Poll,” soothed Meg. “Give him a bit of banana, Renny.”
Renny drew back the skin from the fruit and proffered it, but Boney turned his beak away. He gave a furious peck at the jewel in Renny’s hand and ejaculated loudly: —
“Chore! Chore!”
“Good heavens!” said Meg, struggling with the clasp of the box. “He’ll have the family in here! Offer him the banana.
“He won’t take it.”
Boney still glared at the ring, screaming —
“Chore! Chore!”
“It means thief,” said Renny, hoarsely. “Isn’t that appalling?”
Meg, terribly flustered thrust the box into its place and closed
the drawer.
“Chore! Chore!”
Boney rocked on his perch. Nothing could induce him to touch the banana. Now, between the open curtains, he saw through the window a pale face peering between the branches of the lilac tree. It was Malahide, risen from his bed, and prowling about the garden in a disturbed, yet exalted state of mind. Seeing a light in Adeline’s room, he had thought, if he found her there, to enter and have a private talk with her. Seeing instead her grandchildren, wearing the air of conspirators, he stood immovable, watching them.
Boney now burst out with — “Hell! Hell! Hell with Malahide! Malahide! Malahide! Malahide!” He sidled up and down his perch in sinuous spleen.
Renny blew out the light and they fled into the hall. Like shadows they crept up the stairs and did not stop till they reached Meg’s room. There she sank into a chair, laughing and holding her side.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “I’ve such a stitch! Oh, what a bird!”
“Well,” said Renny, “it was just a little too uncanny. We didn’t escape a moment too soon.”
He put the ring on his little finger and began to eat the banana.
T
HE
L
AST OF
M
ALAHIDE
N
ICHOLAS AND PHILIP
left for their shooting trip two mornings later. The combined assistance of servants and family was required to get them off. The tent, the great canvas bag of rugs and blankets, had been taken to the station earlier; also the box of tinned goods, bacon, eggs, and jam. Their small bags, their guns and ammunition, they took with them in the trap. Keno sat between Philip’s knees, beaming content on his forehead, his muzzle reaching now and again to the case which held Philip’s gun. A young pointer, just being trained, was held on a lead by Nicholas.
A severe frost had crisped the grass the night before. The dahlias hung black and sodden on their stalks. Nasturtiums and asters were quite dead, but here and there a marigold raised its bright face in the border. The air was so clear, so nipping, that it was all Hodge could do to keep the horses in order. Mary, in her thin blue dress, hugged herself to keep warm, as she laughed up at Philip.
“Don’t fail to send partridges!
And
quail. I like them both better than duck. And
don’t
come home with a dreadful yellow beard as you did last year! Be careful of your rheumatism, Nick. Oh, I do wonder if you have everything!”
“Good Lord!” said Nicholas. “I have forgotten my liniment!”
“Molly will fetch it,” said Philip. “Run and get it, like a dear, Molly.”
“I’ll fetch it! I’ll fetch it!” cried Eden, who had carried his toast from the breakfast table and was feeding bits of it to the pointer.
“What’s forgotten, men?” asked Adeline, who, wrapped in a Scotch plaid, stood in the porch.