_AUTUMN DAYS._
"What, Alice, so soon?" said Odeyne, with something of surprise and
gentle reproof in her tone. "I do not wish to stand in the way of
your happiness, as I think you know, but is it not rather sudden?"
Pretty Alice stood before her young mistress, twisting the corner of
her apron in her fingers, her face rosy-red with the stress of her
feelings--shame, pleasure, and gratified vanity all blended
together--not unmixed, Odeyne hoped, with deeper and more lasting
emotion.
"If you please, ma'am, it does not seem sudden to us. He has been
courting me a good while now. We met each other at Goodwood, where
you and the master went for the races. He is everything that is
respectable, and I think mother would be pleased. But I wanted to
tell you first of all, as you've always been so kind."
"What is his name, Alice? and what do you know about him? Do you
quite understand what a serious step you are taking in thinking of
marriage? I only speak like this for your own good. It seems as if
I were in a manner responsible for you, as you are so far away from
your own relations, and have left them all to be with me."
"Oh yes, ma'am, I know that, and I know you are always kind. But if
you were to see him, I am sure you would be satisfied. Why, he is
almost a gentleman, and he earns his two pounds a week regular. He
is what they call a clerk, and he wants, above everything, to get
into the master's office. He has very good references, he says, and
I thought maybe you would speak up for him."
"Well, Alice, the master shall certainly hear all about it, and no
doubt he will do all that is kind and right, and I should be very
glad for your husband to be in our employ. But if he is a clerk,
what took him down to Goodwood in race week? It was not the best
place for him, surely?"
"You see, ma'am, we like our little bit of amusement as well as our
betters. Poor folks have the same kind of feelings as rich ones, I
think. It isn't a bad place--you and the master were there. It was
as good a way of spending his little bit of holiday as any other."
Odeyne made no reply.
There were times when she felt a momentary sinking at heart, for
which she could not entirely account.
Instead of answering, she asked a question.
"What is his name? You have not told me that."
"Walter Garth, ma'am; and if you would please see him I think you
would not object any more. He has no father or mother, and his
sisters and brothers are all married and scattered, and he has nobody
depending upon him. We should be very happy and comfortable. He has
saved a little money, and he says if I like it better, he will live
in the country and go into town every day. Oh, he is very, very
kind, and will do anything if I will only marry him. I do hope,
ma'am, that you will let me."
Odeyne smiled a little at the girl's simplicity.
"It is hardly for me to decide such a point, Alice. I will give you
the best advice in my power, but you must be the one to decide. All
I hope is that you will not act in a hurry, but will insist on at
least six or eight months' engagement. If he really cares for you he
will not mind the delay very much, if you ask it, and it will give
you time to know more of one another."
Alice looked a little disappointed; she hesitated, and then said, as
she twisted her apron still more--
"He will think that a long time to wait. He wants to be married at
Christmas--and thought that rather long. Folks like us do not care
for waiting such a time. When it's all settled it seems more
sensible like to get it all over and done with--leastways Walter
thinks so--he said so the other day."
"And are you in such a great hurry to leave me?"
A different look came into the girl's face at once. She was not
really ungrateful or callous, and she loved her mistress dearly; but
she had been thinking of her own affairs of late to the exclusion of
all else, and at such a crisis of a woman's life such self-absorption
is natural and pardonable enough.
"Oh no, ma'am; sometimes it half breaks my heart to think of leaving
you. But what can I do? I can't say I don't care for Walter when I
do, and if he would but let us live somewhere near here, where I
could see you often, I think I should be quite happy again. Oh, if
you would but see him yourself, I am sure you would help us."
"Well, Alice, I will. You know I always wish to stand your friend.
And I should be very glad to have you near, if the distance from town
is not too great. I will certainly do what I can to promote your
happiness. You had better write to this Walter Garth to come over
next Saturday afternoon. I will pay his expenses."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Alice, brightening up at once; "he is sure
to come. He often does run over for the Sunday. I know you will be
pleased with him, and he is truly fond of me."
Then Odeyne finished her toilet quickly and went downstairs, for she
was expecting her mother-in-law and Maud on a visit of some days, and
they might arrive at any time now.
Mrs. St. Claire and her daughter had been among the number of those
who had been absent from home during the past weeks, so that Odeyne
had seen but little of them. She had made the most of the
opportunities presented during the first month of life at the Chase,
and in many ways she seemed to know them pretty well; but so far no
real intimacy of thought or feeling had been established between
them, and she hoped that a residence beneath the same roof would
bring about this desirable consummation.
But as she reached the hall a cry of pleasure escaped her lips, for
she saw her brother Edmund standing there, muffled up in a thick
overcoat and comforter, his portmanteau at his feet.
She ran towards him with a face full of sunshine. She had seen
nothing of him for nearly a fortnight, and his visits had so far been
altogether too few and far between to satisfy her, though she knew
that he could not help it.
"Edmund, delightful! And have you really come to stop? What a dear
boy you are! Do you know how pleased I am to see you?"
He stooped and kissed her warmly. His face was very bright too.
"Well, you see, I have taken you at your word. You said there would
always be a bed for me whenever I liked to turn up. I hope I have
not exceeded my prerogative in taking you by surprise."
"Edmund, how hoarse you are! You must have a horrid cold."
"I have, but do not scold it or me, for it has got me this unexpected
week's leave of absence. Yes, Odeyne, I have positively come for a
whole week, and you had better make up your mind to the infliction.
I am supposed to want a little nursing, so you see what you are let
in for."
She laughed as she led him into the cosy drawing-room, and
established him in the armchair by the fire. He was in the best of
spirits, despite his hoarseness and trifling indisposition, and
neither brother nor sister were disposed to find fault with it, as it
had brought them so much pleasure.
"I hope you will not mind, Edmund, but mamma and Maud are coming
to-day to stay for a little while. I am very glad to have you, for
mamma likes to be talked to and amused, and I am sure Desmond will be
delighted; for of course it is a little dull for him when my time is
taken up so much more by visitors. I do not think you have ever seen
any of Desmond's relations, have you?"
"No, never. What kind of an old lady is she? Very formidable, eh?
Does she bully you?"
"Oh no, Edmund. She is very kind. She makes us beautiful presents,
and is not the least bit captious or interfering. Sometimes I almost
wish she would make more criticisms. But she always says
complimentary things about all we do."
"Ah, well, I think she would be rather hard to please if she found
fault with your _ménage_. Well, I will do my best to be civil to the
old lady. What is the sister like? Is she as pretty as Mrs.
Vanborough? I saw her once, driving with her husband in a very
extensive turn-out. She was a regular stunner."
"Maud is not much like Beatrice--not nearly so easy to get on with at
first, but I am not sure that I should not really like her better if
I could only get to know her; but I do not think she likes me, and
that makes it more difficult."
"She must have rum taste, then."
Odeyne laughed and shook her head.
"You think so, dear boy, but people are so different. I cannot hope
to please them all, I am afraid. Hark! that is Desmond's step. Oh,
how good of him! He has come home by an earlier train, to be here
when mamma arrives."
Desmond it was, and as he entered the room his face lighted up with
pleasure, for he liked immensely to have a man-guest, and he had
already heard that his brother-in-law had arrived with luggage.
"This is capital, isn't it, Odeyne? So the mater has not turned up
yet? Well, she will not be long now. And how does the world wag
with you, Edmund? You come in good time to give us the Ashford
gossip. My mother loves a little military news."
The two men plunged into talk at once, and Odeyne sat listening, with
her face bright with pleasure and interest. She felt that it was a
very happy chance that had brought Edmund to the Chase at this
particular juncture. Mrs. St. Claire was sure to like him--she was
fond of anyone who would talk in a bright, animated way, and Odeyne
had a good deal of sisterly admiration of, and pride in, her handsome
soldier brother. Perhaps he was the one out of the whole family
group most likely to produce a favourable impression on the old lady,
and it was a relief to have him in the house upon this first visit.
Nor was Odeyne disappointed by the result of her expectations.
Mother-in-law and sister-in-law alike seemed pleased and aroused by
the gaiety of the two young men, as they sat over the fire making
merry together and entertaining the ladies by their jokes and stories.
Edmund did his best, for his sister's sake, to please her new
relations, and Mrs. St. Claire remarked, as Odeyne accompanied her to
her room that night, that it must be a great advantage to have her
brother so near at hand. Odeyne assented warmly, and listened to her
mother-in-law's little compliments about Edmund with far more
pleasure than when the soft speeches were addressed to herself.
Even Maud had been quite lively and talkative that evening, and
Desmond, who had been a little disposed to grumble about the visit of
his relatives, now declared that Odeyne had been quite right in
suggesting it, and that she was a first-rate little mistress and
hostess.
Odeyne was still almost childishly pleased at any compliments from
her husband, and glowed with a happy satisfaction. Then, as they sat
over their fire sociably together, she told him of little Alice's
petition of that afternoon, and asked him what he thought of it.
Desmond listened, and seemed struck by a happy idea.
"Tell you what it is, Odeyne, if that fellow Garth is any good, and
_has_ a good character, and all that, it strikes me he might be
uncommonly useful to me. And in that case I would engage him almost
at once."
"Oh, Desmond, I am so glad. Have you really an opening for him? How
very fortunate."
"You see, it's like this. I want a trustworthy fellow to act as a
sort of confidential clerk, to live near here and go up with messages
and letters on the days I don't go in to business. Several of these
horrid, wet, foggy days I might have stayed cosily at home with my
little wife, if I could have sent a confidential messenger up to the
City house. And now, with the hunting just beginning, I may be a
little less regular again, and it would be no end of a convenience
then to have a fellow like that at one's own gates, to send in every
morning with instructions for the day. And in the winter, when the
weather may be perfectly beastly, it would be a great relief to feel
less tied, eh, wifie? You would be glad sometimes to keep me at
home, when the snow was on the ground, and the whole place reeking in
frost-fog?"
"I should indeed, Desmond. I cannot bear you going by rail when it
is foggy. I am not so used to trains as people who have lived
amongst them all their lives. And I should be very pleased indeed to
keep Alice still under my eye, so to speak; only you know, dearest, I
should not like to see you grow slothful over your business on the
strength of this new arrangement."
Desmond laughed lightly as he bent to kiss her.
"No danger of that, so long as I have so faithful a monitor as my
little wife at home. Are you in such a great hurry to get rich,
dearest, that you are determined I shall not let the grass grow under
my feet?"
Odeyne smiled and shook her head, but made no other answer. She had
no wish to put into words the vague feelings that prompted her to
urge her husband to keep as far as possible to some steady
occupation, be it what it might.
Next day the young wife took Mrs. St. Claire all over the house. She
had never really seen it since she had left it many years ago, and it
interested her to note all that had been done in the intervening
time. Odeyne was half afraid that there might be something painful
to her in thus going over the place; but either she did not feel it
so, or else she was most successful in hiding the feeling. She
admired and praised--not without a few shrewd comments that partook
of the nature of criticism--and Odeyne was both glad and grateful for
any hints, both because she knew her own inexperience, and because
she felt it more like real intimacy to be criticised as well as
praised. In the course of their peregrinations they reached the
nurseries, which had been left almost untouched since the elder Mrs.
St. Claire's time. They were bright, cheerful rooms, with plenty of
light and space, and Odeyne paused here and hesitated, the colour
rising in her face as she looked round her, for she had a little
confidence she wished to make to Desmond's mother, and it seemed
almost easier to make it now.
"We have done nothing here so far, but I wanted to ask you--do you
think they should be freshly papered and painted? I think they look
a little dingy and neglected, and I think--I hope--if all goes well,
that we shall want them in the spring."
Mrs. St. Claire was much pleased and gratified, though she said
little. There was just one quick, bright glance, and warm pressure
of the hand that brought the blood to the girl's face, and nearly
brought the tears to her eyes too, and then the mother-in-law turned
into the woman of business, and began to give very sound and
practical advice as to what would be needed in the doing up of the
rooms themselves.
Certainly, after that morning a better understanding existed between
the elder and younger Mrs. St. Claire. Odeyne was always ready to
meet advances more than half way, and the feeling that she had become
more to Desmond's mother, and had risen in her estimation, was very
pleasant. Maud was not sensibly changed; she spent every available
moment with Desmond, and when he was out, Edmund showed a disposition
to monopolise her. When Maud was in her better moods she could be
very amusing and interesting, with her quick observation, keen
tongue, and remarkably vivid descriptive powers. But in Odeyne's
presence she seldom unbent like this, and it was only by hearsay that
she learned how different others found her.
Edmund was of great service at this time, and the days flew by only
too fast. His cold mended apace, and he was deprived, as he said, of
the only decent excuse he might have alleged as the reason for an
extension of his absence from duty.
"By-the-by, do you hunt?" asked Desmond, on the last day of Edmund's
stay at the Chase; "if you do we shall often meet. The season will
begin almost directly."
Edmund laughed at the question.
"Soldiers who have little but their pay to live on, can't afford to
hunt."
"Oh, if that is all, I can give you a mount any day you like to
arrange to be at the meet, if you will give me a day's notice. You
must ride half a stone lighter than I. Any of my horses would carry
you easily."
Edmund's face brightened. Like all country-bred men he enjoyed a day
with the hounds immensely; but it was a pleasure that was very rarely
attainable.
"It's awfully good of you to say so, but really I should hardly like
to take advantage of your offer. You must want your hunters
yourself."
"Oh, I've more than I want. I have a couple coming down from
Leicestershire next week. I meant to give my old hunter, whom I can
trust down to the ground, to my wife to hunt this season; but she
does not approve of ladies in the hunting-field--and perhaps she is
right--so really I have a spare animal very much at your service. It
will be a charity to ride him, for he loves the work, and would take
it very ill to be left time after time in his stable when the hounds
were out. You'll really do me a favour if you'll use him as often as
you can. Send me a line at any time and he shall be brought to the
meet for you, unless you will come overnight and ride him across
yourself."
"Well, really you are awfully kind. I don't know what to say.
Suppose I bring the animal to grief?"
"Well, we'll put it down to Odeyne's account. One always reckons to
lose one horse a season if a lady hunts it. If it doesn't go lame,
it gets a sore back, and anyway is no more good."
"Well, Desmond, if you persist in making such good offers you can't
expect a fellow to decline them--it's not in human nature. I shall
be only too pleased to come as often as I have the chance. What kind
of runs do you get round here?"
"Well, regular hunting men from the Midlands would call them
execrable--not worth calling runs at all; but we residents try to
make the best of things, and enjoy our sport very well. Of course it
isn't hunting country, it doesn't take two eyes to see that; but all
the same we get very fair runs from time to time, and it is always
pleasant to meet one's friends, and all that kind of thing. You will
get to know a lot of jolly fellows, and that alone is worth
something. And I shall like introducing you and making you feel at
home here. If you have five years of it, it is worth while to know
the people about, and soldiers are always popular, eh, Odeyne?"
Odeyne looked back with a smile, yet her husband's last words had
caused her a momentary anxiety. Would this hunting throw Desmond
into the company of Beatrice and her set once more? And would Edmund
make friends amongst them too? She had felt so pleased to hear the
offer which was to give him so much pleasure, and already her
satisfaction was a little damped. But then she took heart again, for
if Edmund were with him surely Desmond would not be so dependent on
Beatrice and her friends. Perhaps all would turn out for the best,
and she must not encourage idle fears, but rather resolve that his
home should be full of sunshine, so that he always came back to it
with renewed pleasure.
When their visitors had left them, husband and wife turned their
attention to Alice Hanbury's love affairs. Walter Garth presented
himself duly, and produced a most favourable impression. He was
good-looking in a manly fashion, and was evidently very much in
earnest in his courtship. He was better educated than most men of
his class, and far more refined in manner. Alice had had some cause
to speak of him as "almost a gentleman," though at the time Odeyne
had thought it anything but in his favour. However, his refinement
proved to be that of nature, not a mere veneer assumed for a purpose;
and as Desmond took a decided fancy to him, and his employers gave
him an excellent character, all went smoothly for the lovers. It was
arranged that they should live at one of the lodges, that Alice
should continue certain little offices for her mistress as long as
she cared to do so, and that Garth himself should go up daily to town
in the capacity of Desmond's confidential clerk. His salary was
liberal, his duties more responsible than onerous, and nothing could
have seemed more delightful to the happy Alice. The wedding was
fixed for Christmas, as Desmond took the part of the sighing swain,
and declared that it would be cruel to ask him to defer his happiness
longer; and Alice looked forward to her future life without the
smallest misgiving of any kind.
Even Beatrice was quite interested in this new plan.
"It's a capital idea!" she cried in her decisive fashion. "For
really it is rather absurd for Desmond to be tied so much by the
business. He is never to be had when wanted, and it is always the
office that is the excuse. A confidential man on the spot will be an
immense help, and now we shall see more of you both, I hope. We have
let you enjoy a preternaturally secluded honeymoon all these months,
as you are both such babies and so refreshingly fond of each other.
But you must not live always shut up as you are doing now. So I give
you fair warning!"
"I am sure we come to see you very often, Beatrice," said Odeyne,
with a slightly heightened colour.
"Oh yes, dear, you drop in pretty often, and it is very nice of you;
but you decline invitations to stop in the house because of the
distance from the station for Desmond. I don't care much for
afternoon calls. I like people who come and stay--and so does Algy.
He is very fond of Desmond, and has been quite cross that he is so
hard to get hold of. But this new plan will make all easy."
Odeyne smiled, trying hard to keep down a dull sense of reluctant
pain that would assert itself, she hardly knew why.
"We shall be having visitors of our own very soon," she remarked,
looking at her sister-in-law with brightening eyes. "We have planned
to ask quite a houseful of my people down for Christmas. I don't
know how many will come, but I am sure we shall get some of them."
"That will be very delightful for you," answered Beatrice cordially;
"I am sure I shall be very pleased to make the acquaintance of one
and all. Your brother Edmund is delightful. Algy has taken quite a
fancy to him, and we hope to see a good deal of him. If the rest are
at all like him they will be very popular here--as you are yourself,
my dear. But we are some way off Christmas yet, and I hope we shall
be able to show you a little social gaiety before then. I shall
arrange something with Desmond soon about getting you across."
Beatrice sailed away to her carriage, all smiles and graciousness and
good temper. She treated Odeyne in a far more sisterly fashion than
Maud ever dreamed of doing, and was sincerely fond of her; and yet
she had a way of leaving behind her a curious sense of oppression,
which Odeyne tried in vain to shake off.
"I love Beatrice dearly," she said to herself, giving a little shake,
as though to get rid of some unwelcome impression; "but somehow I
don't want to go and stay at her house. We are so happy here. I
wonder what Desmond will say about it?"