If she only knew! The unmarried ones who came down the passage to talk
to Mademoiselle were not half so saucy as the old fellows with wives
somewhere. Lord Bentworth was married, and he wanted me to kiss him,
whereas Colonel Grimston had no wife, and he never said bo! to a goose!
And I do wonder what she thought Mr. Carruthers was going to do to me,
that it would have been wiser for me to stay up in my rooms. Perhaps
she thinks diplomats, having lived in foreign places, are sort of wild
beasts.
My room is frightful after my pretty rosy chintzes at Branches. Nasty
yellowish wood furniture, and nothing much matching; however there are
plenty of wardrobes, so Véronique is content.
They were all in the drawing-room when I got down, and Malcolm, the
eldest son, who is in a Highland Militia regiment, had arrived by a
seven o’clock train.
I had that dreadful feeling of being very late, and Mr. Montgomerie
wanting to swear at me, though it was only a minute past a quarter to
eight.
He said “Bur-r-r-r” several times, and flew off to the dining-room with
me tucked under his arm, murmuring it gave no cook a chance to keep the
dinner waiting! So I expected something wonderful in the way of food,
but it is not half so good as our _chef_ gave us at Branches. And the
footmen are not all the same height, and their liveries don’t fit like
Mrs. Carruthers always insisted that ours should do.
Malcolm _is_ a tittsy-pootsy man! Not as tall as I am, and thin as a
rail, with a look of his knees being too near together. He must be
awful in a kilt, and I am sure he shivers when the wind blows, he has
that air. I don’t like kilts, unless men are big, strong, bronzed
creatures who don’t seem ashamed of their bare bits. I saw some
splendid specimens marching once in Edinburgh, and they swung their
skirts just like the beautiful ladies in the Bois, when Mademoiselle
and I went out of the Allée Mrs. Carruthers told us to try always to
walk in.
Lady Katherine talked a great deal at dinner about politics, and
her different charities, and the four girls were so respectful and
interested, but Mr. Montgomerie contradicted her whenever he could. I
was glad when we went into the drawing-room.
That first evening was the worst of all, because we were all so
strange; one seems to get acclimatized to whatever it is after a while.
Lady Katherine asked me if I had not some fancy work to do. Kirstie had
begun her ties, and Jean the altar-cloth again.
“Do let Maggie run to your room and fetch it for you,” she said.
I was obliged to tell her I never did any. “But I--I can trim hats,”
I said. It really seemed so awful not to be able to do anything like
them, I felt I must say this as a kind of defence for myself.
However, she seemed to think that hardly a lady’s employment.
“How clever of you!” Kirstie exclaimed. “I wish I could; but don’t you
find that intermittent? You can’t trim them all the time. Don’t you
feel the want of a constant employment?”
I was obliged to say I had not felt like that yet, but I could not tell
them I particularly loved sitting perfectly still, doing nothing.
Jessie and Maggie played Patience at two tables which folded up, and
which they brought out, and sat down to with a deliberate accustomed
look, which made me know at once they did this every night, and that I
should see those tables planted exactly on those two spots of carpet
each evening during my whole stay. I suppose it is because they cannot
bring the poker work and the bookbinding into the drawing-room.
“Won’t you play us something?” Lady Katherine asked, plaintively.
Evidently it was not permitted to do nothing, so I got up and went to
the piano.
Fortunately I know heaps of things by heart, and I love them, and would
have gone on, and on, so as to fill up the time, but they all said
“thank you” in a chorus after each bit, and it rather put me off.
Mr. Montgomerie and Malcolm did not come in for ages, and I could see
Lady Katherine getting uneasy. One or two things at dinner suggested to
me that these two were not on the best terms, perhaps she feared they
had come to blows in the dining-room. The Scotch, Mrs. Carruthers said,
have all kinds of rough customs that other nations do not keep up any
longer.
They did turn up at last, and Mr. Montgomerie was purple all over his
face, and Malcolm a pale green, but there were no bruises on him; only
one could see they had had a terrible quarrel.
There is something in breeding after all, even if one is of a barbarous
country. Lady Katherine behaved so well, and talked charities
and politics faster than ever, and did not give them time for any
further outburst, though I fancy I heard a few “dams” mixed with the
“bur-r-r-rs,” and not without the “n” on just for ornament, like Lord
Robert’s.
It was a frightful evening.
_Wednesday, Nov. 9th (continued)._
Malcolm walked beside me going to church the next day. He looked a
little less depressed and I tried to cheer him up.
He did not tell me what his worries were, but Jean had said something
about it when she came into my room as I was getting ready. It appears
he has got into trouble over a horse called Angela Grey. Jean gathered
this from Lady Katherine, she said her father was very angry about it,
as he had spent so much money on it.
To me it does not sound like a horse’s name, and I told Jean so, but
she was perfectly horrified, and said it must be a horse, because they
were not acquainted with any Angela Grey, and did not even know any
Greys at all: so it must be a horse!
I think that a ridiculous reason, as Mrs. Carruthers said all young men
knew people one wouldn’t want to--and it was silly to make a fuss about
it--and that they couldn’t help it--and they would be very dull if they
were as good as gold like girls.
But I expect Lady Katherine thinks differently about things to Mrs.
Carruthers, and the daughters are the same.