UNDER OBSERVATION
MARIAN received an answer by return of post.
"Your letter, my dear cousin, makes me more anxious than ever to know
you all. I shall see about furniture, etc., at once, and when M— and
Co. announce that the rooms are ready, I shall soon join you. Do not
give yourself any trouble beyond the thorough cleansing and airing you
promise me. The walls will do very well, and if you will order in a few
tons of coal for me, M—'s men and my own people will see to all the
rest. I like your letter, and am sure I shall like you."
"I'm sure I hope we shall like her," said Marian, with a sigh, "for we
are making a great change. We know nothing about her, and just suppose
we don't get on? How are we to end it?"
"Do not fret over that, dear," said Honora. "I'll send her away if she
annoys you."
The rooms were scoured, walls and floors and all, and in three days,
they were ready. Which, as matters turned out, was as well; for on
the evening of the third day, three huge vans rumbled up to the gate,
having come to Saltash by train and the rest of the way with horses.
A small army of workmen accompanied them, and the foreman came to the
house to ask leave to bring his vans inside the gate. He then left two
men to look after them, and the rest disappeared.
All the next day the sound of hammering and the dragging about of
heavy articles might be heard. Frances spent the day in looking on.
Violet and Daisy only regretted that they could not do the same. The
excitement was great, but it was soon over. The foreman and his army
departed, and that evening, while Marian was sitting in her favourite
place looking over the sea, the gate opened, and in walked two
well-dressed women, followed by a truck laden with boxes.
"If you please, 'm, is this S. Canice Castle?"
"It is. I suppose you come from Miss Vandeleur?"
"Yes, 'm—cook and housemaid. But I was not prepared for 'quite' such a
wild spot as this."
Marian rang her bell, and asked Stasy to show Miss Vandeleur's servants
the way to her rooms. Stasy grinned when she saw the fashionable get-up
of the new arrivals, but she led the way through the tower, and helped
to carry in their many boxes.
"You're the servant here, I suppose?" said the cook, condescendingly.
"What's your mistress's name?"
"My mistress is Miss Vandeleur of S. Canice Castle: Your mistress is
her cousin."
"Such a wilderness!" moaned the housemaid.
"You'd best keep your complaints for your mistress," said Stasy.
"Here's a door won't open," said one.
"Because it's locked—that's why," said Stasy. "Miss Vandeleur—I mean,
Miss Vandeleur of S. Canice Castle—has a lot of furniture she don't use
in there. She told her cousin she'd keep that room."
Stasy walked to the double door in the passage. "This here door is your
affair, d'ye see? On that side of it you does as you like. The tower is
my business. You see, there's a bell."
There certainly was, but Stasy omitted to add that it did not ring. She
shut the door, and marched into her kitchen, saying aloud—
"Stuck-up monkeys! But they did not make much out of Anna Stasier
Ridd." This was Stasy's version of her name.
From her distant and slightly contemptuous attitude, Stasy refused to
move. No one should think little of Miss Vandeleur of S. Canice Castle
if her one domestic could help it.
The next day was Saturday, and a half-holiday at the College. Honora,
Annie, and the two younger girls repaired to the garden, the gate of
which was at the side of the road opposite their entrance gate; and
there made themselves very busy, dirty, and tired, over some rather
futile and unsuccessful gardening. For none of them knew anything about
it, but the ground being there, it seemed a pity not to use it. They
had only Saturday, and how the weeds did grow!
When Stasy rang the bell for tea, the whole party rushed out, meaning
to return when they had had their tea. Annie was struggling with the
garden gate, Violet with the other, Honora and Daisy were shaking the
earth from their skirts, when a lady came round the corner, and seeing
them, hastened forward and joined them. She was dressed in a perfectly
fitting tweed travelling-dress, with a cap to match, and though she had
travelled from London, she looked as if she had just stepped out of
a bandbox. She was tall and dark, with dark eyes and hair—the latter
glossy and abundant, the eyes remarkably brilliant; in features she
somewhat resembled Frances, without being quite so handsome. Here, no
doubt, was the other Miss Vandeleur.
Violet flung the gate wide and ran off to the house, followed by Daisy.
Annie stood where she was, the picture of dismay, but the undaunted
Honora stepped forward to greet the new-comer without a moment's pause.
"You must be our cousin, Miss Vandeleur," said she. "If we had known
you were coming, we would have met you at the station, but we were
gardening."
"It is but a step. Nay, never mind the earth on your hand; we must
shake hands. Is this another cousin? What a fortunate woman I am! I
thought I had not a relation in the world, and behold, I have found a
nest of cousins. Tell me which you are?"
"Honora; and this is Annie, and the two who fled, conscious of earthy
skirts, were Violet and Daisy."
"And there are two more," the stranger said—"Marian and Frances. And I
was informed that Frances is the beauty of the family." And she looked
at Honora's sweet face with a smile.
"Oh, there is no doubt as to that, as you will soon see. Come up to the
house, for you must be tired, and I know tea is ready."
They were presently in the sitting-room, where Marian received her
guest in her usual gentle, quiet way.
"This is Violet, and this is Daisy," said Honora. "Marian, you must not
stand. I will go for another cup."
Just then Frances entered the room.
Honora said, "Frances, Miss Vandeleur has come." And as she spoke, she
looked back at Miss Vandeleur and nodded, as much as to say, "You see,
I was right."
Frances had very good manners when she chose to be pleasant—manners
with that little careless air which is part of an Irishwoman's charm,
and by her help, there was no awkwardness or lack of conversation. They
had tea, and then Miss Vandeleur said to Honora—
"Will you take me to my room, for I am tired, and will lie down till
dinner-time?"
As they went along the passage, she said—
"Your friend did not say too much about your sister. She is very
beautiful. Yet he chose you?"
"He had known me at Dinar. I hope you will like your rooms; they look
lovely to me, but I am no great judge. This double door shuts you in.
And that's the door of the room we have put our old furniture into; and
this—"
"Oh, what a lovely room! And such a view of the sea! I love the sea.
Can one hire a boat here?"
"I do not know. I will tell your servants that you are here. This
is the dining-room door, and the bedroom is just beyond it, but the
door is in the passage. Now I must leave you, for we left our garden
unlocked."
But she found the hall in a commotion, owing to the arrival of Miss
Vandeleur's luggage, and two more servants, her footman and her
maid—the latter a very fine lady indeed. When the double door had
closed upon this last arrival, the girls looked at each other and
laughed.
"I do hope she will be well-taken care of," said Annie. "Four servants!"
"All for one person!" cried Daisy.
And Honora said, laughing again, "That's on one side of the double
door. On the other, six persons and one—Stasy; but then Stasy is worth
a dozen others. Come and help me to gather up our things. We shall get
no more gardening to-day."
The other Miss Vandeleur made herself very much at home, and was very
pleasant. She said she enjoyed the lovely air and the perfect quiet,
the bathing, and the scenery. The idea of a boat she gave up, for there
were none but fishing-boats to be had, and she was told that the coast
was not a very safe one.
She sat with Marian on the terrace. This was her name for the rocky
platform that lay between the tower and the road, and which overhung
the sea. On fine days they sat there, on windy days either in Marian's
little parlour or in the large drawing-room. Frances was generally one
of the party, and sometimes Annie, but her household cares were many,
and besides, she was in wretched spirits.
Marian was amused and pleased with her new companion, and talked to
her quite freely when she had got over her first shyness. Much of her
somewhat sad little family history was told to Miss Vandeleur, who
seemed anxious to know all about the six cousins she had found.
Frances all this time was delightful—so gay, so good-tempered, so
obliging—that her sisters were quite surprised. Violet and Daisy
admired their new cousin with a great admiration; they even considered
her far more beautiful than Frances, which she really had not been,
even in her youthful days. Fortunately, they kept their opinion to
themselves, and were content to admire Miss Vandeleur in silence, and
to gaze in wide-eyed wonder at her dresses, etc., of which they never
wearied talking to each other.
The only one of the family who kept a little aloof, and who, though
always pleasant, was never more familiar than at first, was, strange to
say, Honora.
For many weeks, Miss Vandeleur was content to go on thus. She had
come to S. Canice to inspect her cousins, and she inspected them at
her leisure, and formed her own opinion about each of them. She had
been a traveller for many years, and there was no lack of subjects for
conversation. Frances, in particular, was always anxious to hear about
all the strange parts of the world that she had visited. So the time
passed quickly. May, June, and July went by, and August brought the
holidays near once more.
One day, Frances was in her own room altering one of her dresses;
she was even more clever at dressmaking than Honora. The sun grew
too hot for Marian, and she consented to go to Miss Vandeleur's cool
sitting-room until there should be a little shade outside. Thus it
happened that Frances did not join them, for none of the girls ever
passed the double door except by invitation.
Miss Vandeleur wanted a talk with Marian, and was glad to be alone with
her.
"Marian, you have told me many things about all of you, but there must
be something you have not told me about your sister Annie. Among you
all, she alone looks sad."
"I do not know that she would let me tell you," answered Marian.
"Then there is something? I should like to know, because I may be able
to help her. It is a love affair, of course, although such things have
never been in my line. I know the signs and tokens. These Wilkinsons
among whom she grew up—is it one of them? And they cannot marry until
he gets a living. I suppose he's a clergyman like his father?"
"No, I wish he was," said Marian, incautiously.
"In the army?" queried Miss Vandeleur, who abstained from a smile, but
was reminded of poor David Copperfield when he likened himself to a
"tender young cork." "And till he gets his company—that's the right
word, I think—they are separated?"
"Will he rise to be an officer? Do tell me if you know, for poor Annie
would be so glad to hear it. I did not think that a man who enlisted
would become an officer."
"Why did he enlist? It was a very foolish thing to do, you know."
"I was afraid it was. He is very good and nice, but very unfortunate.
There are five brothers all doing well, but 'he' lost his clerkship,
and enlisted because he could get nothing to do. And I do fear that
poor Annie will be ill, she frets so. And now he is so wretched, and he
is to be sent to India soon."
"What regiment is he in?"
"The — Lancers. Annie wouldn't mind going to India, but it is out of
the question—she sees that."
"Oh dear me, quite! But what could you do without Annie? Tell me, did
not you and Honora live here without her at first?"
"Yes. But with the girls, we could not manage without her."
"Could not Frances take her place?"
"She means to complete her training as a nurse," said Marian.
"Yes, I forgot that. And the two girls, Marian? How are they getting on
at Heyward's?"
"They are learning as fast as they can, and mean to get employment in
the post-office. But Miss Webb says they are so backward; and how can
we let two such young girls go and—But never mind, all that cannot
interest you. I wonder where Frances is?"
"It does interest me, Marian. You, all of you, are my only relations,
and I am greatly interested in you. These girls are by no means fit for
the life they are training for."
"But what can we do?" poor Marian said sadly.
"You and the others have done the very best you could, my dear girl.
Tell me, Marian, if you were under surgical care, do you not think you
would get over this terrible weakness?"
"No, I do not think so. I was under Dr. Elliott's care for a long time,
and he told my dear Mrs. Elliott that nothing could be done for me.
When I came here first, I felt stronger, but of late I know I am losing
strength. I do not think it will be very long now."
"Well, when the holidays begin, I am going to town for a few days,
and I want to take Violet and Daisy and Honora; they deserve a 'real'
holiday, I think. I will bring them back in a fortnight or so."
"Oh, how they will enjoy it!" cried Marian. "How kind of you! I often
wish that they could have a little change. Honora works so hard."
"And Annie and Frances will take care of you?"
"I wish," began Marian, but checked herself—"I wish Frances would come,
for I should like to go out again."
"I don't think that is what you were going to say," remarked Miss
Vandeleur.
But whatever it was, Marian did not say it.
"I have some letters to write, Marian, so I will help you to your seat
out there, and send Frances to you."
They found Frances on the terrace, and Miss Vandeleur went in, and
having written several letters, she stepped out and posted them herself.
When she came back, she found the others all assembled, and having tea
in the open air. She accepted a cup and a chair, and sat listening to
the bright talk that never seemed to flag when Honora was of the party.
Presently she said—
"I am going to town for a fortnight, do you know, young people?"
"No," said Honora, "at least, I did not know. Are you going at once?"
"As soon as the holidays begin. I want to give you and Violet and Daisy
a little change, for you all work very hard. Will you come with me?"
The immediate consequence of this speech was such a babel of
exclamations and questions from Violet and Daisy that nothing else
could be heard.
"Do you mean me?"
"Oh, did you say London?"
"A whole fortnight!"
"Hush, hush!" said Marian, gently. "You'll deafen us all at this rate.
It's quite plain that you are delighted, but you have not thanked Miss
Vandeleur yet."
"Oh, but we do thank her; you know we do, don't you, Miss Vandeleur?"
said little Daisy, looking up into her cousin's face. She was seated on
the ground at her feet.
"I do, my dear; and I am very glad to be able to make you so happy.
Now, suppose you and Violet go and take a little walk, just to work off
your excitement."
They sprang up with alacrity, and Frances also rose.
"I shall be glad of a walk too," she said.
She was very white, and her voice sounded thin and constrained. Honora
got up, and stood so as to screen her as much as possible from Miss
Vandeleur, beginning to put the scattered cups and saucers on the tray.
"Do," said she. "Listen to Vio and Daisy—the chatter they are making.
And when they came here first, they seemed to care for nothing, and to
have no opinions of their own. They seem to have come to life."
"You have not accepted my invitation yet, Honora?"
"And though I am very much obliged to you for thinking of me, I cannot
accept it. I have a great deal to do during the holidays, and so I must
ask you to excuse me."
"Oh, Honora, you're not to stay on my account!" said Marian earnestly.
"I have Annie, you know; and you would see Piers."
"He is coming here soon, you know. Do not urge me, Marian, for I really
cannot go."
Miss Vandeleur looked annoyed. "I wish you would reconsider this," she
said; and her voice was somewhat cold.
"I am sorry, but I cannot go," answered Honora, quietly.
Miss Vandeleur bowed, rose from her seat, and went into the house.
"Why will you not go?" whispered Marian. "It would be so good for you,
and I fear she is annoyed."
"I really cannot go," was all the answer she could get.
Next day, Miss Vandeleur asked Frances to take her sister's place.
"I did not mean to ask you during the holidays," she said, "for London
is not at its best at this season, and you are not tied to the College,
but if you will come and help me to look after those two children, we
will take our pleasure some other time."
Frances looked radiant after that. And as soon as the College closed,
the party of four set out on their journey. Marian had wished to get
the girls new dresses, but Miss Vandeleur stopped her.
"Leave them to me," she said; "I want to make them 'very' happy."
Honors was in the window recess, behind the speaker, working away at a
great rate. Miss Vandeleur turned quickly as she spoke and looked at
her, the little head was up and a slight smile on the red lips. She
laughed.
Honora looked up, but no explanation was offered.
"Honora," Violet said one day, "I wish you were coming instead of
Frances."
"How should you like me to tell that to Frances?" inquired Honora.
"Don't care; she knows it well enough. Daisy and I cannot think why you
won't come."
"But that is very sad," said Honora, with a lift of her delicate
eyebrows.
"What is?—That you would not come?"
"Oh no, but that Daisy and you can't think why. Never mind, Vio; enjoy
yourself, and be civil to Frances, and you will find her pleasant
enough."
Neither Daisy nor Violet wrote to any one at home during that visit,
but Frances did so once or twice. She spoke of pretty dresses, etc.,
being procured—"really so lavishly, that we shall not need to buy a
dress for years to come."
Dr. Egerton, she said, did not think he could get away at all,
certainly not for more than a day or two. He was very attentive and
kind, but had so little leisure.
Annie looked at Honora, who gave her head that little lift which did
not amount to a toss, and said—
"Do not be alarmed, Annie; I am not."
[Illustration]