There were difficulties to contend with. Lady Mildred, whose hospitable
instincts were aroused, and who felt really anxious about the delicate
little boy, would not hear of his leaving without the doctor's
permission.
"He will be here directly," she said; but it was impossible for Mr
Waldron to wait. He glanced at Claudia in a sort of despair. She
understood him.
"I am almost sure Mr Webb will say Gervais may safely go," she said;
"perhaps if he is fidgety and nervous at being away from--from his
mother and all, it would be better to run the risk of cold than to
excite him by keeping him here."
"Yes," said Mr Waldron, gratefully; "that is just it. Then I may send
a close carriage in about a couple of hours."
"No, certainly not," said Lady Mildred sharply. "If Mr Webb does give
leave for him to go to-day, it shall certainly be in the brougham. I
shall send Mrs Ball or some one with him--"
"I have some one with me," said Mr Waldron, "waiting in the dog-cart at
the door."
Lady Mildred almost screamed.
"Waiting at the door in this weather! My dear Mr Waldron--"
A few minutes later, as Jerry lay wondering if he might not get up, a
slight rustle in the doorway caught his ears, at all times of the
sharpest. It was clear daylight, impossible to think of ghosts or
anything uncanny; but Jerry's heart nevertheless beat rather faster than
usual for an instant or two. Then there was a little cry, a rush
towards the bed, disjointed exclamations--"Oh, dear Charlotte! is it
you?"
"My own old Jerry, to think you were nearly lost in the snow. Oh, how
miserable we were! Oh my old Jerry."
There was some one in the doorway, some one who had brought Charlotte
up-stairs, whose eyes filled with tears as she listened to them.
"Oh, how happy they are to be together, not to have to be separated,"
she thought, as her fancy flew off to her own dear ones, Lalage and
Alix, and the three little brothers at the Rectory.
And an hour or two later, Jerry, well wrapped up, and in Charlotte's
careful convoy, was driven home in Lady Mildred's deliciously
comfortable brougham. How his tongue went, how intense was Charlotte's
interest in the thrilling experiences of the night before!
"It is _very_ strange," she said thoughtfully; "indeed the whole thing
is too strange. That you should have been put to sleep in that very
same room; oh, I can fancy how frightened you must have been. I don't
think it was babyish at all."
For that it had been so, was Jerry's worst misgiving.
"And oh, Charlotte, she _was_ so kind; whether she's spoilt or not,
whatever she is, I shall always say she is very, _very_ kind."
"Yes, Jerry dear; I will try more than ever to--to like her, at least
not to be jealous of her: it is a horrible feeling," said Charlotte with
a sigh. And a softer feeling than she had yet had towards Claudia came
over her as she thought of all her gentle kindness that very morning;
how she had entered into Jerry's gladness when the doctor said he might
go home; how she had herself seen to the hot-water bottles in the
brougham, and brought the warmest wraps, and insisted on lending her
furred carriage overshoes, as Jerry's boots had shrunk. How lovely she
had looked as she stood at the hall-door to see them off! It had been
impossible for Charlotte to resist giving her a warm pressure of the
hand, and murmuring a hearty "thank you." Afterwards she felt doubly
glad that she had done so, though she was far from thinking just now how
long it would be before she saw again the sweet, bright face against
whose attractiveness she had so resolutely steeled herself.
Lady Mildred continued uneasy and nervous; she asked Claudia not to go
to school that day.
"For one thing," she said, "it would not be fit for you to go with
Kelpie, and there is no horse roughed except the one that has gone in
the brougham; and I have a sort of feeling that there may be a telegram
from Mr Miller as there was no letter. It is possible we may go up to
town almost at once."
But no telegram came.
The next morning, however, brought a letter from Mr Miller in which he
decidedly seconded Lady Mildred's proposal to spend Christmas in town.
If she could manage to do so, he said, it would be in every way more
satisfactory than his coming down to Silverthorns. For the business he
wanted to see her about, was not anything that could be settled at once.
He should hope to have several long talks with her.
"Tiresome man," said Lady Mildred; "why can't he speak out and say what
it is. Claudia, I shall not feel comfortable now till I have seen him.
I shall have a telegram this morning to say if I can get the rooms I
want--my own house, you know, Claudia, has been let since Mr Osbert's
death--and it so, I shall decide to go up to-morrow. You must send a
note to your Miss Lloyd to say you will be away till after Christmas."
"Very well, Aunt Mildred," Claudia replied.
Lady Mildred glanced at her sharply.
"What is the matter, child?" she said. "Are you vexed at having to miss
a week or ten days of these precious lessons? Any other girl would like
the idea of a visit to town, even in winter. I will take you about, as
much as I can."
"I do like it, indeed, aunt," said Claudia earnestly; "and for some
things I am really not sorry to miss this last little bit at Miss
Lloyd's."
"You are ahead of all the Wortherham misses, I suppose, and afraid of
hurting their feelings, or something of that sort, I suppose," said Lady
Mildred, with a sort of half-grudging admiration. "My dear Claudia, you
are your father's own daughter--Quixotic is no word for you. You won't
find that kind of thing answer in the world, I assure you."
But Claudia laughed brightly.
"I think the world is a much nicer place than most people allow, Aunt
Mildred."
"You have seen such a great deal of it," Lady Mildred replied. "I am
not sure but that you have seen enough of the Wortherham corner of it,
however. I think you are beyond Miss Lloyd's institution. What you
should have now is some first-rate teaching in France and Germany."
Claudia's eyes glistened.
"Of course I should like that very much," she said; "but I do think the
teaching very good at Miss Lloyd's--it has been already such a test to
me of what I really do know."
The telegram with a favourable reply about the rooms came that morning.
The very next day saw Lady Mildred and Claudia installed in them.
Claudia had never been in London before for more than a day or two at a
time, and in spite of the dreary winter weather she was full of delight.
Even the slight fog, which of course greeted them on their awaking the
next morning, could not depress her spirits.
"I have always wanted so to see a real London fog," she said with
satisfaction, when her aunt called her back from her station at the
window.
"But, my dear, this is not a real fog," said Lady Mildred laughing. "It
is foggy, certainly; but a real London fog, as you call it, would rather
astonish you."
"I hope we shall have one then, while we are in town," said Claudia,
naively.
And Lady Mildred was still laughing at her when Mr Miller was
announced, and Claudia was dismissed.
"What a very charming girl," began the old gentleman, as she left the
room. Everybody always did say something of the kind about Claudia, but
in the present case the remark struck Lady Mildred as rather forced. It
seemed to her that Mr Miller was deferring the evil moment of some
communication he had to make to her. "Is she a relation of yours--or--
or perhaps of Mr Osbert's?" he went on with a sudden gleam of interest.
"Of Mr Osbert's!" repeated Lady Mildred, contemptuously. "What are you
thinking of, my good Mr Miller? You know all about Mr Osbert's
relations as well as or better than I do. You know he had none near
enough to count except General Osbert and his family; and General Osbert
has no daughter."
"No; but there are relations of Mr Osbert's, and not so very distant
ones either, living within a short drive of you," said Mr Miller,
rather snappishly. He did not like Lady Mildred's tone. "I had
occasion several times to remind Mr Osbert of this, though possibly
your ladyship's attention was never drawn to it."
"You mean those Waldrons, I suppose," said Lady Mildred. "I do not know
their exact connection with the Osberts. I know my husband did not like
them; he had some trouble with old Mrs Waldron when he first came to
Silverthorns, I remember his telling me. Some interference or some
unreasonable claim she made. But why should we waste time in speaking
about them just now, Mr Miller; you have some important matters to talk
over with me, and I have been making myself quite uneasy with wondering
what they could be."
She expected some courteous and smiling expression of regret and
reassurance from the lawyer; but to her surprise his face remained very
grave.
"Yes; I have some most important matters to discuss with you," he said;
"I have been foreseeing the present state of things for some time.
There has been--I have had bad news from Cannes. You are aware that
General Osbert and his family--a very small family now--usually spend
the winters there, though I think you never have any direct
communication with them?"
"Never," said Lady Mildred; "though they keep themselves informed of
_my_ state of health, no doubt. My death will be a matter of some
moment to them." But Mr Miller took no notice of this caustic
observation.
"As I was saying," he went on, "I have had bad news from Cannes. The
elder son--the only one, one might almost say, for the other one is
hopelessly consumptive--had a bad accident last week; he was thrown from
his horse. Yesterday evening came a telegram announcing his death."
Lady Mildred started.
"But he was married," she said hastily.
"Yes; he has been married several years to a cousin on his mother's
side, but he has left no children; he never had any. General Osbert is
terribly broken down by this, and he is already an old man. It is
practically the end of the family. The other son cannot live many
months."
"And I am an old woman," said Lady Mildred: "I may die any day. Don't
be afraid to speak out, Mr Miller. You are thinking of what will
become of the property if all General Osbert's family thus comes to an
end."
"Yes," said Mr Miller quietly, "I am. Not what _will_ become of it,
but what _should_. I have much to explain to you, which I do not think
you have ever thoroughly understood, indeed I have not always thoroughly
understood it myself. There were some things wrongly done when the
property last changed hands--not so much illegally as unfairly and
unkindly."
"You mean to say when my husband's branch of it came into possession,"
said Lady Mildred hastily. "I will listen to no blame of _him_, Mr
Miller."
Mr Miller smiled a little.
"I do not ask you to do so, Lady Mildred," he said. "Mr Osbert was
misinformed and prejudiced; and there was foolish pride on the other
side--reluctance to explain things properly. I blame the old squire's
sister, the late Mrs Waldron, for this, though she was an admirable
woman. If you will allow me, I will go over the whole with you, and
explain exactly the present position of things."
Lady Mildred was closeted with Mr Miller for a long time that morning.
When he at last left and Claudia rejoined her, the girl saw that she was
grave and thoughtful, but not restless or uneasy.
"Mr Miller had melancholy news to give me, Claudia," she said; "my
husband's nephew, General Osbert's son, is dead. It is very, very sad
for them." Claudia's bright face shadowed over.
"Have they no other children?"
"It is not `they'--the old man is a widower. Yes; he has one other son,
but he is frightfully delicate," and Lady Mildred sighed. "I have a
good deal on my mind, my dear. I don't quite see what to do. What
should you say to our going abroad; I may have to see the General on
business matters."
"I should like it, of course," said Claudia; "especially if--please
don't think me selfish--if I could go on with my lessons."
"Oh, you tiresome child! You have lessons on the brain: yes, of course
you would go on with them, and learn more than at Miss Lloyd's. No, I
am not vexed with you; it is right and necessary that you should feel as
you do. I wonder, by the bye, how that little fellow is--the little
Waldron boy. I hope his adventure has done him no lasting harm; he did
look so very thin and delicate. Perhaps the hearing of those
unfortunate people's troubles has made me think of him again."
"Might I write to his sister to ask how he is, Aunt Mildred?" said
Claudia. She would have spoken eagerly, for she felt so, but she knew
that with Lady Mildred it was best to be calm.
Rather to her surprise the response was almost cordial.
"Yes; I have no objection. It would seem only natural after our having
had him with us. Tell the girl I should like to hear that his exposure
in the snow has done him no harm."
"Thank you, aunt; I will write at once," said Claudia, flushing with
pleasure.
"What do you thank me for, my dear?" said Lady Mildred, with a rather
curious smile. "It is rather I that should thank you for writing the
letter for me."
But Claudia saw that she was not vexed, though she could not quite
understand her.
"Aunt Mildred is rather incomprehensible sometimes," she said to
herself; "but it is no use minding; she is so very good and kind."
For it was not by any means Claudia's way to worry or perplex herself
with useless puzzles or wonderings; her heart and mind were too full of
pleasanter and more profitable things.
She was not able, much as she wished to do so, to write to Charlotte
that day. For she had to go out with her aunt, to write some notes to
friends for her, and various other small pieces of business to attend to
which made it evening before she had any leisure; and in the evening
Lady Mildred disliked to see her occupied. And the next day was Sunday,
when, as everybody knows, all the postal arrangements in London go to
sleep.
So it was not till Tuesday morning that Claudia's letter was put into
Charlotte's hands at the breakfast-table.
"A letter for me," she exclaimed, with some excitement and surprise; for
Charlotte's letters, except on the very rare occasions when she was away
from home for a little, were few and far between. "I wonder what it is.
I wish it could be anything to please poor Jerry," she went on speaking
half to herself.
For since they had brought him home, Jerry had been ill--confined to bed
now for the best part of a week, and it seemed very melancholy without
him, even in that busy household. It had not done him any harm to bring
him straight home that first day; the harm was done already; the chill
had given him a bad feverish cold, and though it was not anything very
serious he was much weakened by it.
"He must get up his strength, or we shall be afraid to let him out again
till the fine weather comes," the doctor said; "and that would be a sad
thing for a boy of his age."
Then when he went down-stairs with Mrs Waldron to write a prescription
for a tonic, he sat looking thoughtful and pre-occupied for a minute or
two. Jerry's mother was a little alarmed.
"You don't think there is anything much the matter with him?" she said.
"No, oh no; he has rather lost ground in his general health the last few
months. He needed a fresh start or a fillip, and unluckily he has, so
to speak, had one the wrong way. But there is nothing to be uneasy
about, only considering how wonderfully he has improved in the last few
years, I should like to see him still stronger."
"Yes," Mrs Waldron agreed; "and in another year or so he will be
getting into a higher class at school, and he will have to work harder,
that will be trying for him."
"Exactly," said the doctor, who had known Jerry since he was a baby;
"now's the time for him to get up his strength. You couldn't by any
possibility, I suppose, manage to send him out of England, to some of
the mild health places, for a winter? It would be the making of him."
Mrs Waldron shook her head. She saw no chance whatever of such a thing
and said so.
"Ah, well," said the doctor, "we must do our best. I dare say he'll
pull up again. It was only an idea that struck me."
And when he had gone, and Jerry's mother went up-stairs again, it struck
her too that the boy did look sadly in want of something of the kind.
"If only we were rich," she thought. "When we are all well it does not
seem to press so--it is illness that brings small means home to one
sorely."
Charlotte opened her letter, and glanced through it; then made a little
exclamation. She had her wish. It was something that would please
Jerry.
"What is it?" asked her mother.
"It is,"--Charlotte began with a very slight shade of reluctance--"it is
a letter from Miss Meredon to ask how Jerry is."
"It is very nice of her to have thought of it," said Mrs Waldron.
"She writes, she says, by Lady Mildred's wish," said Charlotte; "they
are in London."
"Well, you may run up-stairs and tell Jerry about it. It will please
him," said her mother.