THE OTHER MISS VANDELEUR
NOTHING more was ever said about the affair of the ring. Frances came
to breakfast the next morning, not a pin the worse for her performance.
Honora even thought that she had forgotten all about it, but this was
not the case. She wrote, after a day or so, to tell Dr. Egerton that
she would gladly take the place offered her in the children's hospital,
adding,—
"If I had known when I last wrote that you are to be my brother-in-law,
I should have been less unwilling to ask a favour of you. But from a
child, Honora was always fond of a secret—" a remark which gave Piers
Egerton the keenest amusement.
It was a little after Christmas when Frances went to London. And it
was early in February that she returned, which she did without giving
any notice of her intention. She said that she really could not stand
children, she must try for a regular hospital. The matron's account
to Dr. Egerton was that, though she had many qualifications for a
first-rate nurse, she was not easy to manage, and the children were
afraid of her.
She was in a rather trying temper when she reached S. Canice, and did
not add to the comfort of home. The girls, who were both attending
classes now, kept out of her way, and Marian was unfeignedly afraid of
her.
Poor Annie had no heart to think of Frances or of any one else. Ernest
had enlisted, and been sent to the depot of a regiment then in India.
"Did you call for letters, Daisy?" inquired Honora one evening in
March, for there was no evening delivery at S. Canice.
"I did; and I have one for you. What will you give me for it?"
"I'll tickle you till you give it up," said Honora, seizing upon her
small sister.
Squeaks from Daisy, laughter from Violet, when Frances quenched the
harmless amusement by saying—
"Pray stop that awful noise, girls. Honora, you 'do' surprise me!"
Honora picked up her letter, which had fallen, and ran off with it to
read in peace.
"Light the lamp, Annie. I can't read any longer."
"Not there by the fire," said Annie. "Come over to the window; there's
plenty of light here."
"And paraffin oil is 'quite' eightpence a gallon!" said Frances,
contemptuously. "Such nonsense! Dear me, what is the matter now,
Honora?"
For Honora had flung the door wide open, and entered with an excited
look.
"Oh, Marian! Oh, everybody! Such an extraordinary thing! Did you know
that we have a relation, a Miss Vandeleur, whose family came from S.
Canice, and who is a very great lady, very rich and grand, and Piers
has met her—at least, so she declares?"
"Declares that Piers has met her?" said Annie. "Why, was your letter
from her?"
"No, no—declares that she is one of our family. And that is not all.
Have I light enough to read this to you? Let me in there beside you,
Daisy. Yes; I can see quite well.
"'I have had quite an adventure, all owing to going to a great
dinner-party at my cousin Mrs. Sydney's house. I had hardly time to
shake hands with Selina when "Miss Vandeleur" was announced, and in
came a very handsome woman, magnificent in ruby velvet and diamond
ornaments; and Selina welcomed her with an alacrity which a rising
M.P.'s wife bestows only on a somebody. She has dark eyes, very
brilliant and piercing, dark hair—in fact, she is dark altogether, and
the very image of the picture that Violet and Daisy got hold of in your
Enchanter's Cave, and that was a little like your sister Frances. It is
more like this Miss Vandeleur.
"'She sat down near me, and when Selina had to receive a fresh arrival,
she turned to me and said, "I saw you start when you heard my name. I
suppose I have met you somewhere?"
"'I said no, I had not had that honour, but that the name was so
familiar to me, as I had just left a place in Cornwall where I knew a
family of the same name.
"'On which she said, "Was it S. Canice? I did not know there were
any of my family there now. My great-grandfather was Vandeleur of S.
Canice."
"'I said, "There is a picture there which might pass for yours."
"'Just then my cousin came within reach, and Miss Vandeleur touched her
arm.
"'"Mrs. Sydney, introduce me to this gentleman, and let me go down to
dinner with him; I am interested in something he is telling me."
"'Selina looked put out, but obeyed. I suspect I had not been thought
of for the honour conferred on me.
"'"Dr. Egerton," said my new friend. "I knew your mother very well; you
are like her. Now tell me about these Vandeleurs."
"'So I told her how you had all been dispersed about the world when
you lost your parents, and that now you were all at S. Canice, which
belongs to your eldest sister. And she asked more questions than I
could answer, though I told her all I knew. She cross-questioned me
like any lawyer. I got hardly any dinner—really had no time to eat.
"'When the ladies left us, she said, "Come to me by-and-by, Dr.
Egerton; I should like to ask you a question or two," which, as I had
dined on questions, I thought a rather cool thing to say.
"'I asked Sydney about her before we went upstairs. She has spent her
life in travelling, and is, he said, very eccentric, but enormously
rich. She seems not to know what to do with her money, and whenever she
chooses to reappear in society, she is quite a personage.
"'I joined her again after a while, and she said, "I am interested
in these girls, for, so far as I know, they are my only relations. I
remember when their father was ruined, and I tried then to meet him,
but I was not of age, and was not allowed to do what I wished. Then
he married, and I forgot all about him. I never heard that he left
a family. But I should like to see these girls and the place, and I
suppose from your account that there must be plenty of room for me. Of
course I shall arrange with Miss Vandeleur, and send down furniture
and servants. Now, which of the girls interests you particularly, Dr.
Egerton?" And she laughed, as I suppose I coloured a little.
"'So I said quietly, "Honora, the fourth girl, and we are engaged."
"'"Is that the beauty?" said she.
"'Don't quarrel with me, Honourbright. I said, "No; the beauty's name
is Frances."
"'She nodded. "That's my name, too." Then she got up. "I'm going," said
she. "I live at 10, St. James' Gate. Come to see me if you like."
"'But I do not think I shall go. They say she has been so run after for
her money that she thinks every one will bow to her, and is a bit of a
tyrant, and a very capricious one. She shall not say I hunt her because
she could make my Honora a rich woman. I'll do that myself some day,
perhaps.'"
The sisters had listened in breathless silence, but when Honora ceased
reading, exclamations began, then came questions. Except Frances,
none of them had ever heard of the English Vandeleurs. But Mr. Cooke,
who was a solicitor, had told her the story of the division of the
property, the heir of the house taking the Irish property and old Mr.
Vandeleur's children, by a second marriage, getting all his money.
Frances said she believed that their money had been made by great
mines in the neighbourhood of the castle, and that these having ceased
to be profitable, the castle was abandoned, and had at one time been
used by smugglers as a rendezvous and storehouse. Mr. Cooke had known
nothing of the fortunes of the family in England. But what Frances
could remember of his account of the separation in the days of their
great-great-grandfather, made it easier for them all to believe in the
existence of a strange Miss Vandeleur.
The picture was brought out to show to Marian, who said it reminded her
of their father.
Nothing was talked of for some days but the wonderful cousin in ruby
velvet and diamonds. The only one who said little was Frances, but I
can safely assure you that she thought more about the matter than any
of the others. But as nothing more occurred, the subject died out, and
seemed forgotten.
Even Frances grew tired of waiting. She began many letters to the lady
in question, but she burned them all. She considered Piers Egerton
a fool for not going to see her and stir up her interest in her
young relatives. Finally, when May came and no further step had been
taken, Frances determined to go to London and seek an opening in some
hospital. What else she meant to seek she did not say.
But on the day before that fixed for her departure, a letter came
which made her change her mind. It was to Marian, from "the other Miss
Vandeleur," as the girls called her. The writer explained very simply
who she was, and that she was the last of the younger branch of the
family as they were the last of the elder.
"I should like to become acquainted with you all," the letter went on,
"and as I know from your friend, Dr. Egerton, that you inhabit only
part of your house, I propose to take the rest of it, for this summer
at least. If we suit each other, I may keep my rooms there, and come
to you occasionally. I will send furniture, and will bring my own
servants, and will put you to as little trouble as possible. Let me
know how many rooms you can spare, and what you consider a fair rent
for them, and when I may take possession. Can you have them ready by
the tenth? And to aid you in arranging about rent, as I suppose you
have no experience in that line, I may say that a friend of mine has
rooms in an unfurnished house in a remote corner on the coast, and she
pays seven guineas a month for five rooms and the use of a kitchen.
Lose no time in answering, for I want to get away from London, which I
am tired of."
The girls were all sitting near the house in the grey spring twilight.
Daisy had just brought the letter from the village. They first looked
at each other solemnly, and then such a burst of sweet girlish laughter
rang out. But when they were tired of laughing, Marian said—
"I'm sure I don't know what we're laughing at."
And all replied at once, but with a difference.
"I laughed at the way she asks you to arrange things and then does it
herself," said Honora.
"I laughed at the notion of a fine lady in our shabby rooms," said
Annie.
"I laughed because it's great fun," said Violet.
"I laughed because you all did," said Daisy.
"I laughed to think how nearly I had gone to London," said Frances.
"Do you mean that now you won't go?" said Daisy, her round face
assuming a look of dismay.
Frances took no notice of her.
"Marian, what shall you say to her?" asked Honora.
"I should like to say 'No,' but I know I ought not—for your sakes—"
looking round at them.
"It would be the act of an idiot," said Frances. "No one can say what
may come of it. We, with our miserable pittance, are nobodies, and she
is a great lady. And I maintain that we ought to make the house ready
and her stay here as pleasant as we can."
"I think," said Honora, "that as this house is Marian's, the matter
ought to be left in her hands. She came here for quiet, which she needs
for her health's sake; and if she feels that all this would make her
less happy here, I, for one, hope she will not consent."
"So do I," said Daisy.
But no one else spoke.
Marian folded up the letter with a sigh, and the sigh was echoed by
Annie—poor Annie, who was thinking, not of herself, but of the luckless
Ernest.
"I need not write till to-morrow," Marian said. "Indeed, there's a good
deal to think of before I can write at all. I have hardly seen the
large rooms, but surely they are in a terrible state—hardly habitable."
"These rooms of ours looked just as bad when I first saw them," said
Honora. "I thought we should have to paper them. But, you see, they are
painted, not papered, and Stasy got a ladder and washed them all over."
"I forget—are the large rooms painted, too?" asked Marian.
"I don't know. They are tapestried with cobwebs, embroidered in dust."
"But," said Annie, "we'll find out the first thing to-morrow. It's
getting cold, Marian. Had you not better come in?"
This brought about a general move, and no more was said. But Annie and
Honora arranged to be up at cock-crow in the morning and examine the
central rooms and the seaward tower.
When the two met in the early dawn, Honora said—
"This matter must be settled quickly, Annie. Marian has not slept all
night, and looks quite ill, and yet she refuses to say no once for all."
"I don't think she ought to refuse, Honora. Think of those
girls—indeed, of all of us."
Here Stasy made her appearance, much surprised to see them. But when
they told her why they were there, she laughed and said—
"You might be getting your morning sleep, dearies, if that's all. Every
room in the castle is painted. Them big ones over the sea are grey,
with a pattern of leaves, and the ones at the back are white; the very
ceilings are painted."
Still, as they were up, they thought they might as well have a look for
themselves. So having with difficulty opened the heavy shutters, they
proceeded to clear a small space on the wall, and found that Stasy's
memory had served her faithfully. And so well had the work been done
that, although faded and in some places a little scratched, they found
the paint in good repair.
"Three big rooms, which we must measure; and on the other side of the
passage, the kitchen and four small rooms, besides the one we must
keep for storing all the old things in. It is wonderful how good the
woodwork is! Everything used for this house must have been of the very
best."
"Why, Miss Annie, the wood's all oak—at least, so my people say. And
do you see how dry the house is in spite of the sea so close? That's
because the stone was cut out of S. Michael's Stone, and brought all
that way. Not a bit of sea-rock was used, they used to tell."
"Then that queer little quarry where I rest so often is where all this
came from," said Honora. "To think that none of us knew that."
"Was ye thinking of moving into these rooms, Miss Honora? They'd be
pleasant in the warm weather."
Honora told her what had occurred, and Stasy fell into a state of
excitement, crying—
"I shall see you every one heiresses yet!"
"Put that out of your head, Stasy. Miss Vandeleur is not old, and is
not likely, I should say, to part with her money. But she may be kind
to the young ones, and the rent will be a great help to Miss Marian."
"Miss Honora, your sister's Miss Vandeleur of S. Canice."
"Oh, what matter about that?" said Annie. "Do not put absurd notions
into people's heads, Stasy. There's no doubt but that this lady may be
a great help to us all, and what matter what we are called when we are
all beggars?"
"Not beggars until we beg," said Honora, with her little nose in the
air; "and I am not going to beg, Annie."
"I feel very like a beggar when I cannot help any one. Stasy, can you
tell me what state the sea tower is in? I've never been in it."
"Well, miss, the sea tower is the worst part of the castle. It was
there the smugglers lived, and they tore down a lot of the woodwork.
Your father, when he came here, employed my father and a lot more to
build up a passage to the sea that was used in old times for the mines.
The Vandeleur mines ran out under the sea, and the sea has took them
back now. And he built up the passage, and destroyed the steps, and
locked the tower up. I never was in it myself."
"Come along," said Annie. "She can't possibly want more room than
the main part of the house gives. And you and I must get ready for
breakfast, Honora; and you look more like a sweep than I have ever seen
you until now."
"But, Annie, does it not make you feel strange to think that we live in
this house and yet there is a place just the same as our part of it,
into which no one now living has ever been? If I let myself think of
it, I could be nervous."
"Then don't think of it, dear," said Annie, who was not imaginative;
"and whatever you do, not a word to those two girls."
Honora and the younger girls went off in due time to Heyward's. The
girls were to return by train, but Honora was to walk across the moor,
and Annie was to meet her at S. Michael's Stone. And there they met
accordingly.
"Well," said Honora, "what is it, Annie? Why did you want me to meet
you here?"
"I have something to say to you, and I did not wish to be overheard.
Really, Honora, I don't know what to do. You know what pains I take
with the housekeeping, and how we never have owed a penny."
"I do know, and I never can think how you manage it. Because Marian and
I spent more in proportion to our numbers, and we never had anything
eatable."
"I'll teach you, if you like. But what I want to tell you is
this—Frances has been getting things at the shop I deal with in
Plymouth, and not paying for them."
"Oh, that's not fair!" said Honora. "She must not do that."
"Who will prevent it? I spoke to her, and she was so angry, and I'm
afraid of her, if the truth must be told. I don't think she knows what
she's doing when she gets angry. And I must tell you, she has never
given me a penny towards the housekeeping. She says she is only a
visitor, and I think she gets money from the Cookes, but she never says
a word of it."
"Did you ask her for money?" asked Honora. "Did you tell her that we
all pay something?"
"Yes, but I gave in, for she declared she was going, and I didn't know
then of these debts. But you know she said last night that now she
means to stay."
"What has she been getting?"
"Adams sent the bill with mine for the tea that came yesterday. Oh, she
has had candied fruits, and biscuits, and cakes, and Devonshire cream,
and I never saw one bit of them. I don't know how she gets her parcels
into the house, for you know if she brought them in through the hall
door, we must see them."
"Puts them in through her window," said Honora. "You know she has often
gone to the village in the evening. But this must be stopped. I can pay
this bill if she will not, but she ought, and I shall tell her so."
"Indeed, I don't think you will. You've no idea—"
"Yes, I have. But this time I shall be on my guard. Get rid of Violet
and Daisy after dinner, Annie. Violet would not help me much."
"Marian wants to consult us about her letter; she'll send the girls
away. But when you say all that to Frances, I'll believe it, not till
then."
"Why are you and Marian so afraid of her, Annie?"
For all answer, Annie pulled up the sleeve of her dress and showed a
mark on her arm.
Honora turned pale. "Not Frances!" she cried. "Oh, Annie, surely she
did not do that? Was it a dog?"
"It's sixteen years since she did it," Annie said, "but to this day I
feel sick when I think of it. It was after you had gone to France. She
struck Marian for interfering to save Daisy, and Marian fell down the
six last steps of the turret stairs, and I am very sure that the bad
illness she had soon after she went to Exeter was brought on by that
fall; before that, Marian was not so helpless. I ran to drag Frances
away, and she turned on me, and—well, she almost bit the piece out. And
I know from the Cookes' letters to Mr. Wilkinson that she is often very
violent. I 'am' afraid of her, I must confess. But all the same she
must be spoken to, and if you 'can' do it, I won't run away. Only, let
us keep between her and Marian."
Honora did not now feel quite so sure that she could do it, and yet
she knew that she ought. And with her ought meant must. She employed
her spare time in considering how best to approach the subject. Dinner
over, Marian told the two girls to go out for a walk and to call for
letters. And when they had somewhat reluctantly departed, she read to
the others the letter she thought of sending.
It began by saying that they had not known that they had a relation in
England until Piers Egerton met her, that they felt it was kind of her
to wish to know them. She then described the state of the rooms, and
said that there was no furniture in them except some mirrors which the
sea air had quite spoiled, but which formed part of the walls and could
not be moved. There was a kitchen, which they did not use; there was no
second entrance to the house, but there was a double door which shut
off the turret in which she and her sisters lived. Marian ended with—
"I should like very much to ask you to come here first as our visitor,
that you might see the place, but I cannot afford to do so. We think
the rent you propose very fair."
"I would not say that about not affording it," said Annie. "All the
rest is very nice."
"But I do not see that," said Marian. "I must make her understand that
I cannot do more than get the rooms cleaned and the windows mended."
"Stacy knows about getting that done," said Honora; "and we may as well
have it done at once, so that we can keep the rooms open to get rid of
the shut-up smell."
"I will tell her to-night, then. And we are all agreed that we accept
the offer?" said Marian.
"Of course we do," said Frances. "Indeed, I think you are rather cold,
all things considered. But when she is here, she can judge for herself."
"We should not like it to come to her ears that we owed any money,"
said Honora, quietly. But I cannot deny that she looked pale.
"But we never do, thanks to Annie," said Marian.
"Just now we do. This bill was sent with ours from Adams, in Plymouth,
and Annie cannot pay it. Did you order these things? And will you pay
the bill?"
Frances gave her a look which ought to have withered her up, but it
only steadied her by making her a little angry. Turning to Annie,
Frances said—
"Why did you speak of that to Honora?"
Annie quaked, but Honora stood to her guns. "Because I have a little
spare money, and if you will not pay it, I will."
Frances sprang up, and so did Annie. Honora did not move. But the alarm
was only momentary.
Frances turned and left the room. She was absent for nearly ten
minutes, during which the matter was explained to Marian.
Frances came back with her purse in her hand. She was very pale, and
her eyes were gleaming strangely, but she was quiet, and her voice was
low.
"Give me that bill. Yes, it is correct. Pay it." And she laid the money
on the table. "I am vexed that it was sent to you, Annie, but really I
was driven to get some few things. No one could live as plainly as you
do."
"Yet we do live, and even feel well," said Honora. "And as we are on
the subject of expense, I will say plainly that it seems unfair that
you do not pay as we do towards the housekeeping. Even Violet and Daisy
are paid for—twenty pounds a year. Annie pays the same, and Marian and
I make up what is wanted. We know that Annie's good housekeeping is
everything to us, and we all agree that we ought to help Daisy and Vio.
But if you mean to stay with us, we think you ought to do as we do."
Frances had walked across to the window over the sea. Keeping her back
to them, she said—
"I suppose you are right. I did not think of it, as I meant to leave
you so soon. But I want to see this Miss Vandeleur. Annie, I'll give
you ten pounds now, and the rest if I stay on."
She flung two five-pound notes on the table, and was out of the room
like a whirlwind. Annie drew a long breath.
"Honora, you're a heroine. Oh, but I was frightened!"
"She controlled herself wonderfully," said Marian.
"We might have mentioned the matter to Miss Vandeleur," said Honora,
drily.
"Oh, Honourbright, we never would do that!"
"No, 'we' would not," Honora answered. "Never mind me, Marian; I am
wicked."
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