Authors: Mazo de la Roche
Tags: #FIC045000 – FICTION / Sagas
“Just look, Mrs. Coveyduck,” cried Adeline, “at the dear little birds! What do you think of a gentleman who would kill dear little birds — just for fun?”
“It wasn’t for fun,” said Philip.
“It was for fun! Else why should he have galloped over here to show his spoils?”
“He didn’t gallop,” said Philip, “he walked. He thought you’d be pleased.”
“I don’t care
how
he came!” screamed Adeline. “He came, bringing his little victims, and that is enough! I always felt something wicked in him. Now I remember hearing how he shot down natives in India for just a little tiny uprising.”
“Those natives had killed English civilians. One of them a woman. Anyhow, it wasn’t this Vaughan but the other Vaughan.”
“Ah, trust you to cover up your friend’s misdeeds!”
“Trust you,” returned Philip, glaring at her, “to think the worst of people.”
“I can see as far through a stone wall as anyone. I know sport when I see it and I know cruelty when I see it. And this is cruelty.”
“Eh, well,” said Mrs. Coveyduck, soothingly, “I’ll fetch ’ee a nice cup of tea to comfort ’ee. As for thicey birds, we’ll have a proper funeral for they. I’ll find a nice box and line it with leaves. Coveyduck shall dig the grave and the children shall strew flowers over top. Would you like the cherries stewed, or in a tart, ma’am?”
Neither Philip nor Adeline replied. Both would have preferred a tart but neither would, in the stress of the moment, admit it.”
“Stewed, or in a tart?” repeated Mrs. Coveyduck, fixing them with eyes as blue as the sky.
“I have no preference,” answered Philip, stiffly.
“Nor I,” said Adeline.
“Then stewed — with Devonshire cream,” said Mrs. Coveyduck, well knowing their preference. She took the basket and turned to go.
Emotion always made Adeline hungry. She turned a look of hate on Philip to think he had not said cherry tart.
He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and whistled between his teeth.
“This is no stable,” she said, “nor you a groom.”
“I want cherry tart,” he returned.
Adeline smiled broadly at Mrs. Coveyduck. “The master demands cherry tart,” she said.
It was on the very day when the little birds were buried that Adeline had a letter from her brother Conway, saying that he and Mary were in Montreal and would soon come to Jalna for a visit. They were in that town to look after the affairs of Mrs. Cameron who had died in the early spring, leaving Mary a modest but not inconsiderable fortune. Both were well and longing to see Philip, dear Adeline, and the children. Sholto had accompanied them.
Adeline was divided between delight and dismay. If only they had waited a little longer for their visit, delight would have been unalloyed. But the house was not yet in order. The walls of the drawing-room and library had been papered, the curtains hung. They were inviting but not yet complete. No pictures were on the walls, no ornaments arranged. As for the dining room, it was still in chaos, the furniture swathed, scaffolds erected for the paper-hangers. Meals were eaten in the library. There was as yet no furniture in the guest rooms.
Fortunately a private sale of household effects was advertised at no great distance. Philip went off to it, a little disgruntled because
he had his hands so full at home. But it was always pleasant to spend money and he returned in great good humour having acquired two bedroom suites, one of walnut with much carving, the other of mahogany and of a good design. He also acquired complete toilet sets with enormous ewers, basins, soap dishes, slop bowls, chamber pots and toothbrush holders, tall enough for the toothbrushes of mastodons. Added to this were a large tin bath painted green, a wire stand for potted plants, a cuckoo clock, a stuffed deer’s headd, a huge volume of
British Poets
, and a dog kennel. Adeline had to leave her hanging of curtains to inspect these. She declared them all to be beautiful and, clasping the anthology of
British Poets
to her breast, flew with it to the library and placed it conspicuously on the bookshelves. She and Philip stood hand in hand admiring the effect.
Mrs. Coveyduck was without peer in the process of settling in. She never became confused or irritated. She went from attic to basement and never seemed to tire. Tranquilly and without fuss she had her own way. The young girl, Lizzie, under her guidance, was rapidly becoming an efficient housemaid. She thought Mrs. Coveyduck perfect and it was amusing to see her modeling herself in imitation.
Oh, the joy to Adeline and Philip to be in their own house! No longer was he obliged to put his head out of the window to smoke his cigar. Now, with his velvet smoking cap on his head, the gold tassel dangling jauntily over one eye, he could smoke where he chose. She would run from room to room, singing as she went. She could drop things wherever she chose, secure in the knowledge that Mrs. Coveyduck or Lizzie would pick them up. The children might cry at the top of their lungs, she had no need to worry. As for Nero, no longer was he an outcast. He so suffered from the summer’s heat that Patsy O’Flynn clipped him to his shoulders again. He was here, there, and everywhere. Already the new front door was scored by his scratchings to be admitted.
The party from Montreal arrived on a hot, bright but windy day. Everything seemed in motion, from the waving of branches to the waving of Nero’s tail.
“How heavenly to see you boys again!” cried Adeline, clasping her brothers to her in turn.
“Dear Sis,” said Conway, submitting languidly, “it is heaven to be here after the discomforts we have endured. How well you look!”
He himself had not at all changed, nor had Sholto. There they stood, slim as wands, their pale red hair worn too long, their long pale faces with the pointed chins and supercilious nostrils reminding Philip as always of the faces on playing cards — looking little older than when they had run away from the ship. But Mary had changed — from a colourless child to a fashionable young woman though, on close inspection, she looked a little overshadowed by the clothes which she had bought in Paris. Though she had all the money, Conway had firmly impressed on her that he had done her a great favour in marrying her. Her adoring eyes followed him wherever he went and, when he was absent from her, she waited in dejection for his return. She often bored him and he preferred the more congenial company of his brother.
“What a dear little house!” he exclaimed. “And all so fresh and clean! And what a wilderness surrounding it!”
“Heavens! Look at the dog!” Sholto simulated terror. “Or is he a lion? What a creature!”
“He comes from Newfoundland and he’s more lamb than lion,” answered Adeline, patting Nero.
“What sweet babies!” Mary ran to inspect the children. “There’s nothing I want so much as a baby but I don’t seem to be able to have one.”
Conway winked at Adeline. “There is nothing on earth I want less,” he said, arranging his silk cravat.
“What perfect repair everything is in!” remarked Sholto, staring about him.
“Child,” said Adeline, “the house is barely built. It’s as fresh as a daisy.”
He looked at her blankly. He could not imagine a new house.
“How is dear Mamma?” she asked.
“Looking lovely,” answered Conway. “You remember that she
lost a front tooth? Well, she had a beautiful new one put in the place. It is a miracle. A new discovery. You should see it.”
“She says she is coming over here just to show it you,” said Sholto. “Both she and Dada are coming.”
“Really!” Philip could not help looking a little aghast. “You say they are coming to Jalna?”
“Yes. Dada doesn’t believe half of what Sis writes of the place. He’s coming to see it with his own eyes.”
“How is Dada?” asked Adeline pensively.
“Beastly as ever,” returned Sholto emphatically. “He beat me till I was black and blue just two days before we sailed. I thought I should have to remain at home.”
“It served you right,” said his brother.
Mary asked — “Where are the two Irish gentlemen?”
“Mr. D’Arcy returned to Ireland some months ago. Mr. Brent eloped with a Canadian girl. They have lately returned and been forgiven by her father.”
“Had she money?” asked Mary.
“Her father is quite well off — as riches go in this country.”
“How well is he off as riches go in Ireland?” asked Conway.
“Rolling in wealth. Now come and see your rooms. Then we shall have dinner.”
She led them upstairs. They ran from room to room, examining them with the curiosity of children. Adeline herself felt like a child again. It was delightful having them with her.
They made quite a sensation in the neighborhood, with their odd looks, their clothes in the extreme of European fashion, their free-and-easy manners. The Laceys gave a lawn party for them but, as it turned out, they were not the centre of interest at it for Michael Brent and his bride, newly returned and forgiven by her father, were surrounded by a welcoming circle.
Brent disengaged himself as soon as he could and drew Adeline aside. He said: —
“I have good news for your gloomy friend.”
“I have no gloomy friend,” she returned. “I demand good spirits
in any friend of mine. If, by chance, it is James Wilmott you refer to, you are mistaken. He would be the happiest man here, if — ”
“There need be no if, from now on,” interrupted Brent. “Do please capture him and let me relieve his mind.”
Adeline found Wilmott in the midst of a group engaged in the sport of archery. He had just raised his bow to his shoulder and was looking intently at the target. She waited till the arrow pierced the bull’s-eye and, amid applause, he gave way to another player before she spoke.
“Oh, James,” she said, “can you leave this game and come with me? Michael Brent has just told me that he had good news for you. He is waiting near the summerhouse. Do excuse yourself and come.”
“I have won the contest,” said Wilmott. ”I can come with you at once.”
Adeline lingered a moment to watch Daisy Vaughan who, bow in hand, was about to play in a new round. She was the subject of much banter because she could not be made to understand how to hold her bow.
“But I never
could
hold a bow!” she cried.
“The thing is to
catch
your beau,” laughed Kate Brent. “Once you’ve caught him it’s very easy to hold him.”
“What does she mean?” asked Daisy, innocently.
“Oh, Daisy, how slow you are!” cried Lydia Busby. “Don’t you see? Bow and
beau
— b-e-a-u?”
“I declare,” said Daisy, “I don’t see any connection. I repeat that, if I had a dozen bows, I could not hold one of them.”
There were peals of laughter.
Philip came to her side and put his arm about her, placing her hands correctly on the bow. She smiled helplessly up at him.
As Adeline and Wilmott turned away she asked: —
“What do you think of Daisy, James?”
“I think she’s a hussy,” he returned curtly.
“I thought so too, at the beginning. Then I thought she was just a silly girl. Now I don’t know what to think. She calls herself my friend.”
“She’s no friend of yours. Nor of any woman’s! Adeline, she is
man-mad
. The bachelors have not come up to the scratch. I think she has given up her ambition for Dr. Ramsey. Now I believe she is after Philip.”
“She has always laid herself out to allure him. But I have been only amused by her tricks.”
“Philip is the most attractive man in the place.”
“But he is mine!”
“What does she care? Adeline, that girl told my boy, Tite, that he had enchanting eyelashes and a mouth like a pomegranate flower.”
Adeline laughed delightedly. “Oh, James, to hear you say that!”
He replied with some heat — “Poetic phrases might not come so ill from my lips as you imagine.”
She gave him an almost tender look. “I never should have laughed if they had been your own, but to hear you repeat them, as from Daisy to Tite, fills me with hilarity. How did Tite take it?”
“The young devil liked it. He has taken to looking at himself in my looking-glass — trying to see his eyelashes and making mouths.”
“He’s more French than Indian, by a long shot, Philip says.”
They found Brent hiding in the lattice summerhouse. He called out softly: —
“Here I am. Come and hear the news, Wilmott.”
They went in. Adeline seated herself by the side of Brent. Wilmott stood, as though defensively, in the doorway. Brent’s ruddy face was wreathed in a smile of good-fellowship.
“I have seen your wife,” he announced.
“Yes?” Wilmott spoke quietly. “You know, Kate and I went to New York on our honeymoon. We had been there only a few days when Mrs. Wilmott discovered me, looking in at the window of a bookshop. She was coming out with a book she had bought. It was almost a year since I had seen her and my first thought was how well she was looking. Really like a different woman.”
Wilmott just stared.
“She is not worrying over your whereabouts any longer. She is immersed — literally up to her neck — in the anti-slavery campaign!”
Wilmott’s jaw dropped. He uttered an incoherent sound.
“You see,” continued Brent, “she is by nature a woman with a mission. She is completely carried away by this. She never reached Mexico, for she made friends with people who warned her what a precarious and almost hopeless expedition it would be. These friends are anti-slavery enthusiasts. She became one. She travelled with them through the South. Now she is on a lecturing tour in the North, arousing feeling there. She is returning to England to lecture.”
“
Lecture
” ejaculated Wilmott.
“Yes. Lecture. She pointed out a card in the window of the bookshop, advertising the one she was giving that night. She begged me to attend it. Fortunately Kate was a little indisposed, so I was able to go alone.”
“And Mrs. Wilmott mounted a platform and lectured!” cried Adeline. “Eh, but I should have liked to hear her. Was there a crowd?”
“The hall was not very well filled but those who were there could not have been more enthusiastic. She roused them to a really vindictive anger. They would have marched forth and set fire to the house of any slave owner — if they could have found one.”