AN ENGAGEMENT
Towards the end of June Caroline went to London to stay with Beatrix for
a day or two. Beatrix had summoned her. She depended a good deal on
Caroline now. She had asked Maurice to come, too, but he could not leave
his work.
The morning after she had arrived Beatrix came into her room with a
letter. Dick had gone off early to his ship. "What _does_ this mean?
Surely it can't be true!" she said.
The letter was from her father. They were to have dined with him that
evening. He was going off to Spain, on banking business, that day. He
expected to be in Madrid and Barcelona about a week, and on his way back
he should take Barbara to Switzerland for a fortnight or so, and then
bring her home. Beatrix was to tell Caroline, and he would write to them
from abroad. No time for more now, as he was going off in such a hurry.
Then came a postcript. "Have you heard of Ella's engagement? Sir John
Ambleside. He's a nice fellow, and just the right age for her. Write and
congratulate her."
They stared at one another, utterly surprised. It was four months now
since Caroline had come home, and the idea of a marriage between their
father and Ella had been discussed between them. Since then they had
come to take it quite for granted. Ella had been in London ever since,
except for two week-end visits to Surley, and one to Abington, when
there had been so large a party of relations and friends that it had
seemed as if the occasion would be chosen to make an announcement. That
was a month ago, at Whitsuntide. Neither of them had seen Ella since,
and their father had only once been down to Abington.
"Sir John Ambleside," said Caroline. "That's the Beckleys' cousin, that
Jimmy told Bunting about. But--"
"Poor old Daddy. He's running away," said Beatrix. "But how beastly of
her!"
They tried to adjust their recollections. They had taken it for granted.
Had they had reason, or had they been mistaken all the time?
"Of course, she's never given a hint," said Caroline.
"Oh, my dear! You saw how she was with him at Whitsuntide."
"Not really very different from what she has always been. Perhaps gayer,
and rather more at home. At least we thought so."
"I'm sure the poor old darling was in love with her. He was as happy as
a king all that time. _I_ know the signs."
"But nothing happened. Surely, if it had been as we thought they would
have got engaged then, or before."
"Perhaps he was waiting until he was quite certain, and this has
happened since--her falling in love with that other man. _I_ shan't
congratulate her. I think she has behaved very badly. _Poor_ old Daddy!
It's frightfully rough luck on him."
"He doesn't want anything said about it, though. I wish he hadn't gone
away alone. I'm glad he's going to take Barbara away when he comes
back."
"I wish I knew exactly what had happened."
"Perhaps Aunt Mary will have heard something. We shall see her to-day.
She will certainly have something to say about it."
They lunched with Lady Grafton, and she had a good deal to say about it.
The announcement of the engagement had appeared in the 'Morning Post'
that morning, and had taken her by surprise, though she would not admit
quite how much it had taken her by surprise.
"He's been dancing after her," she said; "but nobody thought she would
accept him. You know I blame you two girls more than anybody."
"Of course you do, darling," said Beatrix. "But we should like to know
why, all the same."
"You've stuck up your noses at it. Poor dear George, like most men of
his age who are in love, is sensitive to ridicule. He never could bring
himself up to the point of proposing because he was afraid that he'd
look like a fool. That party at the Abbey was the greatest possible
mistake. I said so at the time."
"Who did you say it to, darling?" asked Beatrix. "You told me that it
was the very thing to bring it on. But I suppose you thought I was in a
delicate state and must be humoured."
"Yes, it's all very well to treat it like that," said Lady Grafton. "But
if it hadn't been for you it would certainly have been brought to a
point then. They were both ready for it, and Ella Carruthers knew
perfectly well that she had been asked down there to be proposed to. It
was you and Caroline who stopped it, and I'm exceedingly annoyed with
you, though I try not to show it."
"You don't try very hard, dear," said Caroline. "We expected it, too,
and if we weren't quite ready for it at first we had got quite used to
it by that time."
"We both showed it, too," said Beatrix. "We were as sweet to Ella as
only we know how to be; and we took a great deal of pains to show
darling Daddy that we were pleased with him. He knew that we knew all
right, and were only waiting."
"Yes, and how did you show it? By hanging round him the whole time, and
petting him as if you were children, instead of--"
"Instead of great girls of twenty-one and twenty-two," suggested
Beatrix. "That's how we always have treated him, and always shall."
"Two married women," proceeded Lady Grafton.
"And one of them soon to become a mother," added Beatrix.
"Nobody was ever allowed to forget _that_," retorted Lady Grafton. "It
was crammed down Ella's throat that she would be a step-grandmamma, and
George could never move anywhere without you flopping about him and
calling him 'Daddy darling.' There wasn't much 'Daddy darling' when you
fell fatuously in love, and treated him as if he counted for about as
much as old Jarvis. Then there was Caroline--"
"Oh, it's my turn now," said Caroline.
"Yes, you were almost as bad. You've left his house, but you come up
every day to see that his sheets are properly aired, and send out in the
middle of dinner to see whether his hot water bottle is filled."
"Oh, Aunt Mary!"
"Well, that's the impression you give everybody. You made him look like
an elderly man, when if you'd let him alone he'd have seemed quite like
a young one. How would you have liked it yourselves, if you'd been in
Ella's place? She's only a year or two older than you. Probably what put
her off was that she was afraid you'd be calling her 'Mummy darling!'"
"Oh, it was _she_ that was put off!" said Caroline. "You said at first
that it was Dad, because we turned up our noses at it."
"I've no patience with you," concluded Lady Grafton, ignoring this.
"No, you don't seem to have much, darling," said Beatrix sweetly.
"You're all wrong though. Caroline and I have been talking it over. We
think that she was almost ready to marry him then. She behaved to us as
if she were. We can't tell you how, but we both felt the same about it.
She wanted to know how we should take it, and we let her know that we
should be pleased. We understood each other perfectly, though not a word
was said directly."
"I wish _I'd_ said a word, directly. It only wanted that. One is afraid
of interfering, and then one wakes up to find everything has gone
wrong."
"If only you'd interfered with us all a little more, darling, how much
happier we should have been," said Beatrix. "What Caroline and I think
is that she never could _quite_ make up her mind, and he wouldn't say
anything till he saw that she had."
"That's how it's supposed to have happened with _you_, isn't it? It
isn't every man who expects the woman he's in love with to fall down and
cuddle his boots."
"Don't be tart, darling. It doesn't suit you, really, though you think
it does."
"She found out after all that she wanted somebody younger," said
Caroline.
"Yes, that's what _you'd_ think. The truth of it is you've both been
scratching each other's backs. 'Of course he'd want what Dick wanted in
you, _darling_,' and 'Of course she'd want somebody more like Maurice,
_dearie_.' To any sensible woman George is worth Dick and Maurice put
together. Well, I don't know what has happened. I think she would have
had him a month ago, if he'd asked her. I've hardly seen her since. At
any rate, it's all over. George won't marry now. This was the only
chance. He wouldn't marry for the sake of marrying, and he wouldn't go
about looking for somebody to fall in love with. You've stopped his
doing either, till it's too late. But with somebody provided for him, so
to speak, who would just suit him, and could make him fall in love with
her into the bargain--it would have been simply ideal. Now the poor man
has got to fly off and forget all about it. Of course he won't forget
all about it for a long time. He'll feel himself old all of a sudden,
and know that he'll have to go on getting older for the rest of his
life. I'm furious about it."
Caroline and Beatrix went on to see Lady Handsworth. They agreed on the
way there that Aunt Mary was really rather sweet about their father,
though she always tried to be too clever. It _was_ hard lines on the
poor old darling, and they would have to do their best to prevent him
feeling he was getting old. It seemed that he actually had run away.
Uncle James had said that somebody from the Bank was to have been sent
to Spain in a day or two, but that he had suddenly announced his
intention of going himself, immediately. He had said nothing about the
engagement, but he must have known of it when he made his decision, as
he had written to Beatrix that afternoon.
Lady Handsworth was concerned about the news. "I did hope that she would
have married your father," she said. "But I never felt quite so sure
about it as Mary, and others, have. I think she could never quite make
up her mind. Sir John Ambleside has been rather determined in his
wooing, and I suppose it came to a point where George held back, not
liking to put himself into rivalry with a much younger man."
"I think that's much the most likely thing to have happened," said
Caroline. "But he did love her, I'm pretty sure, and I'm most awfully
sorry for him."
"So am I," said Lady Handsworth. "But he will get over it, perhaps
sooner than one might think. A man of his age never lets himself quite
go, unless he's absolutely sure. He knows, for one thing, that life
isn't all made up of love, and if he has had a blow he can look forward
to the time when he will have left off feeling it. Besides, your father
hasn't lost the love that he has always had, and that has been enough
for him hitherto."
This was more consoling than Lady Grafton's statement that it was all
their fault. Of course he hadn't lost their love; it was stronger than
ever, because he would depend upon them more than if Ella had gone to
him to fill their place.
"I'm afraid I _was_ rather selfish when I found out how much I loved
Dick," Beatrix said, when they had left Lady Handsworth. "Dick says I
was, himself, and that if I had made a little more fuss with Daddy he
wouldn't have wanted to go off loving somebody else. I loved him just
the same, but I suppose I didn't think enough that he'd want me to show
it. Still, _you_ haven't been like that. You're more thoughtful than I
am, dearest. I don't think it would have made much difference. I think
Aunt Mary was right there. It was Ella making up to him that led him
on--even if she didn't mean to lead him on so far."
"I shall write to her," said Caroline. "He asks us to. He won't want us
not to be friends; and I suppose she will still be living at Surley
sometimes."
Both of them wrote. Ella's answers were affectionate, but it seemed to
them a little shame-faced. She said very little to them about the man
she was going to marry, though it would have been natural for her to
expatiate upon him to such intimate friends. Her only reference to
Grafton was in her letter to Caroline, in which she said: "I told dear
Mr. Grafton before anybody, and he was so sweet about it, and has
promised me a very handsome wedding present."
Caroline had a letter from Barbara after she went home. Barbara was in a
heaven of delight. She had seen her father on his way through Paris, and
was preparing to go off with him on his way back.
"How silly I was to bother myself and all of you about Ella," she wrote.
"Dad told me she was going to be married to that little ass Jimmy's
cousin. Dad was quite pleased about it. He was awfully sweet to me, and
says he is longing to have me at home to look after him. It will be
spiffing fun going to Switzerland together. The darling old thing wants
a holiday. He says he's been working rather hard at the Bank, and he
certainly looks rather run down. I shall take the utmost possible care
of him. He bought me a hat in the Rue de la Paix. Ser-wish!"