Stasy made a face.
"Oh, that would be quite horrid, I think. We should be far more
independent if we were milliners. And do you know, Blanchie," she went
on, her eyes sparkling, "it's quite different nowadays in England. Miss
Milward has a cousin who's a milliner in London, and people don't look
down upon her for it in the very least. Not even regular--worldly sort
of people, you know."
"I've heard of that," Blanche replied; "but in London it's different.
Miss Milwards cousin probably has her own friends and relations who know
her and back her up. It wouldn't be the same thing at all in a little
country town, and in a neighbourhood where people have not been too kind
to us as it is. And living `on the premises,' as people say--oh no, it
would be quite different."
Stasy's face fell.
"I was afraid," she said, rather dejectedly, "that you wouldn't like the
idea of it at all. But, oh Blanchie, a school would be detestable! We
should never feel free, morning, noon, or night; and just fancy mamma
having to hear all sorts of horrid fault-findings from vulgar parents."
"They needn't be vulgar," remarked Blanche; "at least not all of them."
"They would be at Blissmore," said Stasy.
"I should never dream of beginning a school at Blissmore," said Blanche
quickly. "The high school would spoil all chance of success."
"Where would we go, then?" said Stasy. "We are such strangers in
England; and, of course, it would be madness to think of returning to
France. No, Blanchie, I won't give up my idea yet, till you have
something better to propose."
"I don't mean to snub you about it," said Blanche. "Possibly it was an
inspiration. I will speak about it to mamma to-morrow, and see how it
strikes her. Of course there would be a great deal to talk about to
Miss Halliday. She may require more money than we should be able to
give."
"I don't think so," said Stasy, "but she would tell you. Good-night
then, dear. I can see you're very tired; but I'm so glad you haven't
squashed the idea altogether. I think it would be capital fun! Just
fancy all the people coming in and ordering their bonnets and hats. I
used to long to go into the shop to take orders, when we were helping
Miss Halliday."
She kissed her sister lovingly and ran off, with the light-heartedness
of her age, to dream of fabricating a marvellous cap for Mrs Burgess, or
some bewitching hats for Lady Hebe's trousseau.
Blanche said nothing of Stasy's scheme to her mother till after Mr
Bracy's visit the next morning. But when she found that the
negotiations for letting their house at once seemed so likely to go
through, she thought it well to tell her mother of this new idea.
At first, there is no denying, it was very startling to Mrs Derwent.
She was almost astonished at Blanche's entertaining it for a moment.
But a few days passed, and gradually, as often happens in such cases,
she grew to some extent familiarised with the possibility. There came
two letters from Mr Mapleson, the effect of which was indirectly
favourable to the realisation of Stasy's scheme.
"I have consulted my good wife," wrote the old lawyer, "as I said I
would. I am sorry to say she rather shakes her head over the idea of a
school. There is so much less opening for private establishments of the
kind nowadays, and this applies, I fear, to some extent to governesses
too, unless they have been trained in the orthodox modern way. It
would, no doubt, add greatly to your troubles to be separated from your
charming daughters. If you will pardon the suggestion, and not consider
it impertinent, what would you say to beginning some sort of dressmaking
or millinery business in which you could all keep together? This kind
of thing has become rather a fashion of late years, even for women of
first-rate position."
This letter arrived at breakfast-time one morning. Mrs Derwent read it
and handed it to Blanche, remarking as she did so: "It is rather curious
that the same idea should have struck him, isn't it?"
Stasy looked up eagerly.
"What is it? Oh, do tell me! Do read it quickly, Blanchie." And when
she had got the letter in her own hands, and mastered its contents, she
turned round triumphantly. "There now," she said, "I hope you'll allow
in the future that I'm not a silly child. When a wise old lawyer of
nearly a hundred proposes the very same thing, I should say it's worth
listening to."
"I never thought it was not worth listening to, practically speaking,"
said Mrs Derwent. "My hesitation was simply that I didn't like the
idea, and one of my reasons for disliking it is, that it would be so
entirely you two, my darlings, working for me, for I am not at all
clever at millinery."
"And I am not a genius at it, mamma," said Blanche. "Nothing like
Stasy. It is she who has the ideas."
"But I am not nearly so neat as you, Blanche," said Stasy. "I would
never have done so well without you to fasten off my threads, and that
sort of thing."
Blanche smiled.
"What I was going to say, mamma," said Blanche, "is that there would be
a great deal to do besides the actual millinery. All the business part
of it--ordering things and keeping accounts, the sort of thing you're so
clever at. You know grandpapa used always to say that you were as good
as a head-clerk or private secretary any day. And if the business were
extended, as Miss Halliday hopes, there would be a great deal more of
that side of it."
"Yes," said Stasy. "She told me the last time I saw her that that is
one of her difficulties. She's not very well educated, you know, poor
little woman, and her accounts, such as they are, are rather a trouble
to her. Indeed," she went on, looking preternaturally wise, "I've a
great idea that she is cheated sometimes."
"I can quite believe that she cheats herself," said Mrs Derwent. "I was
always finding out things she had forgotten to put down in our weekly
account. That reminds me, Blanche, of some things that came into my
mind in the night--I didn't sleep very well--about the arrangements we
should have to make with Miss Halliday, if--if," with a little
hesitation--"this idea really goes farther. We should have to guarantee
Miss Halliday against any risk to a certain extent; for, you see, she
would have to give up ever having any lodgers if we went to live there."
"Yes," said Blanche thoughtfully; "and yet we could not now afford to
pay as much as when we _were_ her lodgers."
"Perhaps we should pay half the house rent," said Mrs Derwent, "and, of
course, a larger proportion of the housekeeping. All that, I could
guarantee out of capital for a time--the first year or so--till we saw
how we got on. Miss Halliday is such an unsuspicious creature that I
should be doubly anxious to be fair to her."
"Perhaps it would be best to consult Mr Mapleson," said Blanche.
"Yes, I think it would be quite necessary," her mother agreed. "I
should like to have a talk with Miss Halliday before doing so, however,
so that we might know our ground a little; and then, again, I can't say
anything definite till I hear more from Mr Bracy."
She got up from her seat as she spoke, and crossed the room to the
window, where she stood looking out.
It was a perfectly lovely, early summer morning. The grounds at
Pinnerton Lodge were now beginning to reward the care that had been
bestowed on them when the Derwents first took the house. The view from
the window across the neat lawn, its borders already gay with flowers,
was charming.
No wonder that poor Mrs Derwent sighed a little.
"I think almost the worst part of this sort of trouble," she said, "is
waiting to see what one should do; though in some cases, no doubt, this
goes on for months."
At that moment the click of the gate was heard.
"I don't think we are going to be kept very long waiting," said Blanche
cheerfully--she too had left her seat, and was standing beside her
mother--"that's the Bracys' page coming up the path; he must be bringing
a note."
Her conjecture was correct. Two minutes later the note was in Mrs
Derwent's hand.
"They are really very kind and considerate," she said, looking up after
she had read it. "This is to ask if Mrs Bracy may come to look through
the house more particularly, as they have quite made up their minds
about it. Fancy, Blanche, he has actually telegraphed to India, and has
got a reply. I do believe he has done it more for our sake than for
their own, for I said to him we wanted to know as soon as possible.
They are very rich, I suppose, but they are certainly also very kind."
"And how _horrid_ I was to Adela Bracy the first time I saw her," said
Stasy, contritely. "Well, never mind, I'll make up for it by
fabricating the loveliest hats that ever were seen, for her, if she
patronises our millinery establishment."
"Stasy," said Blanche softly, "I wouldn't joke about it if I were you;
and you know it isn't the least settled yet. At least not before
mamma," she went on, in a lower voice, seeing that her mother was not
listening, as she was again reading Mr Bracy's note.
An answer was sent, arranging for Mrs Bracy to see the house that same
morning, and by that afternoon the negotiation was virtually concluded.
The rent Mr Bracy proposed to pay would in itself have been a sufficient
income for the mother and daughters to have lived upon very modestly,
had Pinnerton Lodge been their own; but deducting the amount Mrs Derwent
was responsible for, as the tenant of the house unfurnished, a very
small income was to be counted on, and that but for one year.
"We may feel sure of two hundred," said Mrs Derwent, "for I have still a
good balance in the bank, and I have _almost_ paid everything we owe, up
to this."
"You are counting, of course, the eighty pounds a year that Mr Mapleson
spoke of as quite certain," said Blanche.
"Oh dear, yes," her mother replied; "it is indeed our only certainty in
the future, except what we would realise by selling the furniture and
plate, and so on."
"And I'm sure it is better not to do that in a hurry," said Blanche.
"Don't you think, mamma," she went on, "that we know enough now to
justify us in having a talk with Miss Halliday?"
Mrs Derwent considered.
"Yes," she said, "I think that is the first thing to be done now, for I
have practically promised to give possession of the house early next
month."
"Would you like me to see her first, mamma?" Blanche proposed. "Could
it make it any less disagreeable for you if I were to sound her, as it
were?"
"Oh no, dear," said her mother. "I shall not feel it disagreeable, and
even if I did, why should I not take my share when you and Stasy are so
good about it all? You would hardly be able to go into it definitely
without me. I must make a rough calculation as to what ready money I
could promise her at once, subject, of course, to Mr Maplesons
approval."
"And he should be written to without delay," said Blanche. "Yes, mamma,
if you're able for the walk, I think we should certainly see Miss
Halliday to-day. If we go rather late in the afternoon, she would be
better able to speak to us uninterruptedly."
They found the milliner in rather low spirits, though the flutter of
nervousness at the honour of Mrs Derwent's visit made her forget her own
troubles for a little. She was full of sympathy, yet afraid of
presumption if she expressed it. But before long Blanche and her mother
managed to put her at her ease.
But the calm was only of a few minutes' duration. When Mrs Derwent laid
before her with quiet composure the object with which they had sought
her, Miss Halliday's excitement grew uncontrollable. She cried and
laughed, thanked them and apologised to them, all in a breath, till Mrs
Derwent at last made her see that the proposal was for their interest as
well as for hers, and managed to calm her down by matter-of-fact
discussion of ways and means, and pounds, shillings, and pence.
"It is too good to be true," said Miss Halliday. "I have got silly
lately with brooding over things all by myself. Since the day Miss
Stasy talked to me, I have not said a word of my troubles to any one,
and knowing, of course, how much worse anxieties you dear ladies had to
bear, I couldn't have troubled you by asking for advice."
Her confidence in Mrs Derwent was touching. She would have agreed to
almost anything proposed, so that Blanche and her mother left her,
empowered to tell Mr Mapleson that the milliner was ready to accept any
arrangement he thought fair and equitable.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
A VISITOR.
Two months later. A sunny day towards the end of July, the sort of day
on which one longs to have nothing to do but to saunter about a garden,
or lounge under trees with the lightest of light literature in his
hands. It was rather hot in the milliner's shop in the Blissmore High
Street, though the sun-blinds had been down since the early morning to
protect the few, though pretty, bonnets and hats tastefully displayed in
the window. These sun-blinds were a new addition to Miss Halliday's
frontage, and she was very proud of them.
"Such a convenience," she said, "making such a nice shade, and yet not
stopping passers-by seeing what was to be seen. Not that that would
matter," she went on, complacently. "If we had nothing but a plain
front door, customers would come in plenty, I feel sure, now that we're
getting such a name."
It was quite true. Even during the few weeks that had passed since the
Derwents had joined her, Miss Halliday's connection had steadily
increased, though just at this season it consisted mainly of the
residents at Blissmore itself.
Some came out of curiosity, no doubt, for no secret had been made of the
change in the Derwents' position and the courageous step they had taken.
It was a new sensation, in a provincial town, at least, to be waited
upon by "ladies," and very charming ladies too; though, to tell the
truth, the adjective was chiefly drawn forth by Blanche, whose sweet
grave face and perfect patience and courtesy of manner rarely failed to
win her customers' hearts. But if curiosity brought several of these in
the first place, real satisfaction at the way in which their orders were
executed was pretty sure to lead to repeated visits. And added to the
increasing conviction that not many milliners out of Paris had prettier
wares, and "so moderate too," was a sensation, agreeable to the
Blissmore ladies, that somehow or other they were acting in a
praiseworthy fashion by lending a helping hand to the "poor things."
Yes, as far as the town was concerned, there was no doubt that the new
departure was a decided success, though the very success brought certain
difficulties in its train, the management of which called for
considerable tact.
"You mustn't let yourselves be patronised, dear young ladies," said Miss
Halliday, when an invitation to a small evening party was left one day
for "Miss Derwent" by Mrs Burgess's parlour-maid. "She wouldn't have
dared do it, if you had been at Pinnerton Lodge; and, to my mind, it's a
greater freedom now than it would have been then."
"She counts herself an old acquaintance, I suppose, as she called upon
us at first," said Blanche; "and Dr Burgess was very good to Stasy when
she was ill, you know, Miss Halliday. Still, of course, I would never
dream of accepting this. Only we must not risk offending any one, and I
believe, in her way, Mrs Burgess has done her best to help us by
recommending us."
Miss Halliday gave a little snort, Mrs Burgess being no very great
favourite of hers.
"I will answer her note quite civilly," said Blanche, "and just say we
do not intend to go out at all. To begin with, mamma would certainly
not let me go alone."
"And they'd scarcely venture to ask _her_," said Miss Halliday with
satisfaction. "But I wish you wouldn't say you don't mean ever to go
anywhere, for when the county ladies are home again, there's no saying
but that you may have invitations of quite a different kind."
Blanche smiled.
"The county ladies didn't trouble themselves about us much before," she
said. "I can scarcely think it likely they will now, though I certainly
hope they will come to us for their bonnets."
"I've not much fear but what they'll do that," said Miss Halliday, whose
impressionable nature now saw everything on its bright side. "And even
more than that, my dear Miss Blanchie, people are `funny'--you can't
count upon them. Anything that makes a sensation is the thing
nowadays;" for the milliner was, in her way, a shrewd observer of human
nature. "And there's many nice ladies among them too--real ladies--
who'd feel with you more truly than such as Mrs Burgess. There's that
sweet Lady Hebe, now!"
A deep sigh from the farther corner of the shop seemed to come in
appropriate response to her last words.
"Stasy!" exclaimed Blanche. "What are you sighing so about? I thought
you were working up-stairs beside mamma. What is the matter?"
"Oh, a lot of things," replied Stasy dolefully. "I'm so hot, and I
can't get these _beastly_ flowers to go the way I want them. My fingers
seem all thumbs this afternoon."
"_Stasy_!" said Blanche again, this time in a tone of reproof. "Is that
the way Blissmore young women talk?"
"I'm a Blissmore young woman myself, now," said Stasy. "So what can you
expect?"
"You're overworking yourself," said Blanche. "Instead of doing less,
now that your classes are over for the holidays, you're fagging yourself
out; and it is really not necessary just now. We got on very well when
you only helped us part of the day, didn't we, Miss Halliday?"
"Of course we did," said Miss Halliday, "though we couldn't do without
Miss Stasy's taste in anything. But do go out into the garden for a
little, my dear; you'll only make your head ache, and not be pleased
with what you do in the end, when you're feeling so."
Stasy looked regretfully at the hat on her knee.
"I meant to make it so pretty," she said. "And so you will, if you put
it away in the meantime. There's no hurry for it--there isn't, really.
Miss Bracy's not leaving home till the end of the week," said Miss
Halliday.
Blanche had crossed the room to her sister, and took up the hat to look
at it.
"It is pretty already," she said, "and it is going to be quite charming,
I can see. So uncommon!"
Stasy looked up with tired eyes.
"Do you really think so?" she said more cheerfully. "I am so glad, for
I do want to make it very nice."
It was an uncommon hat, even in these modern days of eccentricity
without end--uncommon, but still more, perfect in taste--and in
imagination Blanche already saw Adela's piquant face and beautiful dark
eyes looking their best under its shade.
"I want the roses to droop over a little on to her hair, do you see?"
said Stasy. "And they will look rather sprawly."
"They will come all right in the end, I am quite sure," said Blanche
encouragingly, as Stasy rose half reluctantly from her place.
"I just wish you'd go out with her too, Miss Blanchie," said the
milliner. "It is hot in here, and you're looking pale yourself. I can
call you in a moment when you're wanted. I'll tell you what," she went
on, with a sudden inspiration, "shall I tell Aline to take your tea out
into the garden? Your dear mamma might like it, for she's been writing
all the afternoon, and Master Herty will help Aline to lay it."
Aline was the only servant who had been added to the High Street
establishment, and with her happy French faculty of adapting herself to
varying circumstances, she had proved so far a real boon to the little
family.
So Miss Halliday opened the door leading to the kitchen and gave her
directions, while Blanche and Stasy made their way out to the long,
pleasant strip of walled-in garden at the back of the old-fashioned
house.
"Blanche," said Stasy, as they slowly walked up and down the gravel
path, "it wasn't only about the hat I gave that sigh. I do feel so hurt
at Lady Hebe, and I do so wish Miss Halliday hadn't put her into my head
again."
"She doesn't know anything about Hebe a not answering my letter," said
Blanche. "There was no use speaking of it."
"No, of course not," Stasy agreed.
"And I feel certain there must be some reason for it," Blanche resumed.
"She is the very last girl in the world to change to us because of all
this. Besides, I think it was quite as difficult for her before to be
nice to us, as it would be now."
"Perhaps so," said Stasy, rather absently. "Blanche, I do feel so dull
and cross now, somehow. It isn't, after all, as much fun as I expected.
I do so dislike some of the people that come with their orders."
"Yet, I think, on the whole, they have been wonderfully kind," said
Blanche. "Kind, and even delicate."
"Oh, I daresay they have," said Stasy. "But they have such ridiculous
ideas! That woman yesterday, who wanted a bonnet that would `go' with
everything. And yet it wasn't to be black or any neutral colour."
"Yes, but Stasy," said Blanche, "I was trembling for fear she should
find out that you were making fun of her, when you proposed a--What is
it, Aline?" she said, as the maid came out with the tea-tray, which she
hastily deposited on a garden seat.
"Some one is at the front door," replied Aline. "The bell rang as I
left the kitchen. Will mademoiselle excuse my leaving the tray there?
I must answer the door, for that stupid little girl has not yet dressed
herself," and she hastened off.
Just at that moment Herty put his face out at the glass door, which was
slightly ajar.
"Where is Aline?" he said. "She promised I was to help her to carry out
the tea things."
"She has gone to open the door," said Blanche. "She will be back in a
moment. Come out here and help us to lay the table.--We may as well,
Stasy," she said to her sister; "the tray is not very secure on that
chair."
She began unfolding the little table-cloth which Aline had brought out.
"Herty must have run to the door," said Stasy with some annoyance. "I
am afraid he is getting rather common in his ways, Blanche, now that we
live so plainly. I think we must be more particular with him. It does
seem so vulgar for a child to be peeping out to see who is at the door."
"I doubt if Herty will content himself with peeping," said Blanche. "I
wonder if all little boys are as inquisitive as he is."
At that moment Herty's shrill voice was heard in eager excitement.
"Blanchie, Blanchie," he cried; "Stasy--somebody's come to see you.--
Come along, do," he added to some one, as yet invisible in the
drawing-room. "We're going to have tea in the garden; won't it be
jolly? You're just in time."
Some inaudible words of remonstrance must have been addressed to him by
the unfortunate individual he had under his convoy. But Herty was not
to be so easily balked of his prey.
"You _must_ come out," they heard him say. "They'll be as pleased as
anything to see you."
And apparently the invisible new-comer judged it wiser to resist no
more, though it was with somewhat heightened colour, and less appearance
of being equal to the occasion than was usual to him, that Mr Archibald
Dunstan followed, or, more correctly speaking, allowed himself to be
dragged out into the garden by the irrepressible Herty.
"I do beg your pardon, Miss Derwent," he said as he shook hands, "but I
couldn't help myself, Herty is such a determined young person."
Blanche looked up at him, serenely enough to all appearance, though in
her heart she was not sure how this unexpected visit should be regarded.
"I had no idea you were in the country," she said.--"Herty, go and tell
mamma that Mr Dunstan is here. We are just going to have tea, as you
see; we hoped it would be a little cooler in the garden than in the
house."
"It has been very hot lately," Archie replied, slightly disconcerted, he
scarcely knew why, and disgusted with himself for finding nothing more
original to say; though Blanche was to the full as self-possessed as if
she were receiving him in the pretty little home in which she had last
seen him, as if no crash had completely broken the tenor of their life.
Archie almost felt as if he were dreaming, and yet--there could be no
doubt that all he had heard was true. The facts spoke for themselves.
Here the Derwents were, installed in the back rooms of the Blissmore
milliner's house.
And yet how nice it was! The sunny afternoon and the old garden;
nothing to jar even upon the ultra refinement with which he was often
taxed. Was it that Blanche Derwent, by the perfect sweetness and
dignity of her presence, shed harmony and beauty about her wherever she
might happen to be? He almost thought that herein was to be found the
secret of it all.