Authors: Mazo de la Roche
Tags: #FIC045000 – FICTION / Sagas
With the furniture from Uncle Nicholas’s house in Quebec had come the grand piano. It was delivered in a wagon by itself. When it arrived there was so much else to be done that it was decided to unload it and let it stand in its case, covered by tarpaulin, till men could be spared for the handling of such a load. The wagon was backed toward a convenient spot near the ravine. But the ground still was icy in the shade. The wagon wheels began to slip. The whole
great weight began to move backward into the ravine, dragging the horses with it. Philip and Adeline looked on with dismay on his part, horror on hers. In another moment the plunging horses would be over the edge.
“Loose the traces!” Philip shouted.
Adeline shrieked — “Loose the traces!”
Two men sprang forward. Massive shapes strove together above the ravine. The driver leaped from his seat in time to save himself. The heavy draught horses moved forward lightly, free of their load which crashed inexorably to the stream. It broke off branches and young trees as it fell, then came to rest supported by two boulders, so that it was not actually in the water.
“By the Lord Harry,” said Philip, “that was a close shave!”
“I’ll bet that pianner is bust to bits,” said a man with a red neckerchief. “Nobody’ll never play on it no more.”
All but the driver ran through the icy slush to look down at the piano. It had been made in France, crossed the ocean, stood for many years in the drawing-room of the house in the Rue St. Louis, travelled by barge, boat, and wagon to this place and now lay, dumb and disgraced at the bottom of the ravine.
“Can we get it up, do you think?” asked Adeline, still white from the shock.
“It’ll take four horses to haul it up and it’ll fall to pieces on the way,” said the man who had spoken before.
“Certainly we shall raise it,” said Philip comfortingly to Adeline. “You will play ‘The Harp that Once thro’ Tara’s Halls,’ on it yet.”
He turned to the man with the red neckerchief. “It was you who directed the driver. Otherwise the piano would not be where it is. Now you say it can’t be raised whole. I don’t want men like you working on my place. Ask the foreman for your money. You’re discharged.”
The man stared at him. “The foreman engaged me,” he said. “It’s for him to discharge me. Not you.”
Philip took him by the red neckerchief. “I have a mind,” he said, “to throw you down on top of the piano.” He gave him a hearty push. “Now, go, and be quick about it.” The man skulked off.
All the rest of the day Adeline felt shaken. Her knees trembled as she hastened to and from the bedroom she was preparing. They had chosen the room at the end of the hall behind the drawing-room as her own; cool in summer and warm in winter, far from the noise of the children. A servant had been engaged, the daughter of a farm laborer, who followed Adeline about, getting in her way rather than helping her. The girl could neither read nor write. Her incompetence and stupidity were a marvel to Adeline but she was good-natured and strong as an ox.
A married couple, the man a trained gardener and the woman a good cook, were on their way from Devon. They had been engaged by Philip’s sister and it was hoped that they would be installed in the house before the time of Adeline’s confinement, a fortnight or more hence. Their bedroom, comfortably furnished in the basement, awaited them. They were bringing with them a supply of kitchen utensils and garden tools such as they had been accustomed to. Adeline wished with all her heart that they were at Jalna, as she strove to bring some slight order out of the chaos which surrounded her. Everywhere she went the girl, Lizzie, followed her, tripping over the litter on the floor, dropping things, exclaiming at the wonders from India.
“Sakes alive!” she said, pointing to the painted bedstead. “Is that there to sleep in?”
“Yes. Draw the mattress toward you. It’s not on straight.”
“Land sakes, I’d have bad dreams if I slept in it.”
“I dare say. Now help me to open this chest.”
“What’s them things all over it?”
“Dragons.”
“They look heathenish.”
“They are.”
“Your furniture don’t look like Christian furniture.”
“It isn’t. What have you dropped now?”
“It looks like a doll.”
The small porcelain figure had been wrapped in a piece of Eastern embroidery which the girl had taken from the chest.
Adeline snatched it up from the floor. She examined it anxiously. “Thank God,” she exclaimed, “it isn’t broken! If you had broken that, my girl, I’d have made an end of you.” She held the porcelain figure tenderly in her hands. It was the goddess, Kuan Yin.
“Is it a doll?” asked Lizzie.
“It is a Chinese goddess. Oh, how beautiful and wise she is! How glad I am she wasn’t broken! See her sweet hand and her little feet like flowers!”
“She looks comic,” said Lizzie.
“I wish I could put you down in China for five years, Lizzie, and see what would happen to you.”
Lizzie giggled, “Perhaps I’d come back looking like that there,” she said.
Adeline set the goddess on the mantelpiece. “There I shall place her,” she said, “to guard the room. She shall stay there always.”
“It’s sinful to worship images,” said Lizzie. “My pa wouldn’t let me work for folks that worship images.”
“Well, when you next see him, you can tell him I say my prayers to this one. It will be fun to see what happens.”
“I won’t do that, ma’am. I want to stay here.”
“Good for you, Lizzie! Now gather up some of the paper and shavings from the hall and lay a fire here. It’s very cold.”
“You don’t look cold,” observed Lizzie. “Your cheeks is red as if you had the fever.” She crammed paper and shavings tightly into the grate.
“No, no, not that way, Lizzie!” Adeline was worn-out by the girl’s stupidity but she liked her. She wondered what the well-trained Devon servants would make of her.
Mrs. Pink came in later to see what she could do to help but her admiration for what was already unpacked, and her shock over the disaster to the piano, took most of her energy. Mr. Pink called for her and he too joined in the inspection and condolence. Still later Philip came, accompanied by Captain Lacey, Thomas D’Arcy, and Michael Brent. It was like a party. Philip tore down to the wine cellar where already a case of wine was installed and
brought up a bottle of Madeira. Wine glasses were discovered. Wilmott appeared and at once said he knew the proper method for rescuing the piano from the ravine and that if he had been there it never would have fallen. Adeline was suddenly gay and full of confidence. When she and Philip drove back to Vaughanlands, she felt strong and hopeful of having everything in order before the arrival of her child. It was disgraceful, Mrs. Vaughan thought, the way Adeline laced herself though, after all, who could blame her, considering how she was exposed to public view? Her condition might well pass unnoticed, so small was her waist, so voluminous her skirts.
When Adeline woke in the dawn with a mild rain pattering on the roof and the song of a chickadee coming from the maple tree outside the window, she had a startled feeling as though someone had put a hand on her and roughly disturbed her. She lay very still, her heart beating quickly. She lay waiting, her wide open eyes fixed on the window, pale in the early light.
Then she felt the touch again. It was a sharp pain that stabbed her very vitals. She was filled with apprehension. Was this the warning of her confinement? Was she to be caught here, be forced to have her child where she was determined not to have it? Sweat broke out on her forehead. She gave a little moan.
Then she felt better. Probably it was a false alarm. She had had others in her time. But she would take no risks. Let Philip oppose her as she might, she would sleep that night in her own house! She lay planning each step of the day. After a while she slept.
When she woke it was still gently raining. Though the unseasonable heat was gone, there was a feeling of spring in the air. She found that Philip had dressed. The house was very quiet. She had slept late. At breakfast there were only herself and Daisy. The men had gone out and Mrs. Vaughan was not well. She had come down, had a cup of tea and been forced to return to her bed. She was subject to severe headaches.
Daisy talked volubly. The subject which enthralled her at the moment was the love affair between Kate Busby and Michael Brent.
In her opinion, Kate should defy her father and elope with her lover. She herself had counselled Kate to do this. Did not Adeline think she was right? After all what was there in life greater than sincere attachment?
Adeline was somewhat taciturn. She ate oatmeal porridge, cold ham and several sausages, with expedition. Then she went to Mrs. Vaughan’s bedroom door and tapped.
“Come in.” Mrs. Vaughan spoke in the tone of one who had prayed to be left alone.
Adeline came to the side of the bed. “It is a pity you are feeling so ill,” she said.
“Oh, I shall be all right. You know I have these miserable times.”
“Yes. ’Tis a pity. I myself am not too well. I had a heavy pain at dawn.”
Mrs. Vaughan was startled. “Do you mean — oh, surely your pains aren’t coming on yet! You told me the third week in April!”
“Yes. That’s when it’s due. But I think I shall make haste and get under my own roof today.”
“No, no, you must stay where you are. You must take things quietly. We can manage.”
Suddenly Adeline knelt down and took Mrs. Vaughan into her strong arms and kissed her.
“You are so kind,” she said, “How can I ever repay you!”
“Then you’ll stay?” asked Mrs. Vaughan faintly.
“No. I have a fancy to have my child at Jalna.”
“But those pains!”
“Oh, I warrant I shall hold out till the third week in April.”
Mrs. Vaughan burst into tears of relief, mingled with real affection.
“I am very fond of you,” she said, “much fonder than I am of Daisy.”
Adeline gave a little laugh. “Who wouldn’t be?” she said.
As she passed the children’s room she heard them prattling at their play. They were all right. No need to worry about them. She went to her own room, found a portmanteau and began to pack it
with toilet articles. To them she added two nightdresses, heavily trimmed with embroidery and stiff with tucks from collar to hem, and a red velvet peignoir. She felt a little giddy and sat back on her heels to collect herself. It took some time.
Was there anything else she should take? Yes, the silver flask of brandy they had on shipboard. She found it in Philip’s top drawer. She took it. It was quite half-full. Another pain struck her, tearing at her like a wild beast. She gave a cry, then pressed her hands over her mouth. She ground her teeth together. She would not give in. She would have her baby in her own bed.
The pain passed. She groped in the wardrobe for her bonnet and cloak. As she was putting them on she remembered that she had not ordered the horse and buggy to be brought to the door. She saw Patsy O’Flynn crossing the lawn and opened her window and called out to him: —
“Patsy-Joe, bring round the grey horse and buggy. If ever you moved quickly in your life move quickly now. Just throw the harness on to the beast and gallop back to the house.”
“What’s up, yer honour, Miss?”
“I’ll tell you later. Hurry — hurry! Run!”
Patsy-Joe ran to the stable, swinging his arms like flails to propel himself. When he returned it was obvious that he had thrown the harness on the horse. He met Adeline with a wild look. His sandy whiskers stood out on either side of his thin face. He snatched the portmanteau from her hand and hurled it into the buggy.
“Run to the parlor,” she said, “and fetch Boney! He must not be left.”
Patsy-Joe flung himself into the house and flung out again, the bird cage swinging from his hand. Boney, hilarious at this sudden break in the boredom of his present life, hung head downward from the top of his cage, uttering cries of delight. In his travels he had learned the word “good-bye” and he now screamed it repeatedly though without any accent of affection or gratitude.
“Good-bye — good-bye — good-bye!” he screamed, and his mouth curved upward beneath his dark beak.
Tremblingly Adeline climbed into the buggy. The parrot’s cries had made the old horse restive and he rolled his eyes and tried to move forward and backward simultaneously. Adeline caught up the reins. “My baby will be coming before long,” she said.
“Be quate, will you?” cried Patsy-Joe to the horse, putting in the portmanteau and the bird cage. “D’ye want to put me lady on to the gravel, you brute?” He scrambled to the seat beside Adeline. “Och, Miss Adeline, yer honour, I can see by the look in yer eyes that you have great pain in you and no wonder, the way you have run up and down thim stairs an lugged great armfuls of linen about! ’Tis himself will be vexed with you for lavin’ Misthress Vaughan’s house when naught is ready at Jalna.” He looked anxiously into her face. “But don’t worry. I’ll get ye there in good time.”
“You must not breath a word of this to anyone till I tell you. I feel better now. Drive fast but be careful of the ruts.” She took the cage on to her lap to steady it. Patsy had put up the buggy top so she was sheltered from the rain that fell like a silver veil from the dim grey sky.
Patsy set the portmanteau and the bird cage on the bed in Adeline’s room. “Shall I unpack the bags fer ye, Miss?” he asked, bending over and peering into her face. She had dropped panting into a chair. Loud hammering resounded through the house. It beat cruelly on her nerves. She said — “Tell them to stop the hammering, Patsy-Joe. Say that my head aches. Just that. Nothing more, mind. Then find Lizzie and send her to me. Tell her to come at once. Then drive to the Rectory and ask Mrs. Pink if she will come back with you. She’ll understand.”
“I will. I’ll be back with her before you know it, Miss. Hadn’t I better fetch the doctor — or the midwife if himself is out? Sure you’ll need all the help you can get.”
Not yet. I have things to do.”
“But can ye wait?”
“Yes. Run along, Patsy.”
“Hadn’t I better fetch the masther?”
“No, no. Do just what I have told you.”