A QUIET TIME.
It was dusk when we got to Putney. We had left all our heavy baggage, to
be sent up after us when we should have got into a house, and had
brought up only what we should require for the present. We got into one
of the rickety-looking flies standing at the station, and told the man
to drive us to No. 12, Charlemagne Villas. We were soon there, and in
the uncertain light we could see that it was a little detached house
standing in a garden, and cut off from its neighbours and the road by a
wall.
The driver got down and rang at the bell, and the gate, or rather the
door in the wall, was opened by a small servant-girl.
"Does Mrs. Thompson live here?"
"Yes, ma'am; will you walk in?"
Very pleased to find that the object of our search still lived there,
Polly and I got out of the fly and went in; while Harry, who said he
hated this sort of thing, stopped outside to look after the boxes.
We were shown into a pretty little drawing-room, where the servant drew
down the blind and lighted the gas, and in a minute or two a brisk
little woman came in and said--
"My name is Thompson, ma'am; did you wish to see me?"
"Yes, Mrs. Thompson: some four years ago I was at Ramsgate, and when
there I struck up a great acquaintance with your mother. She gave me
your address, and I said that if ever I came to London I would come to
you. Do you still let lodgings, and are they vacant?"
"I do, ma'am," Mrs. Thompson said, "and shall be only too glad to let
them to any one whom mother recommended them to. If you had come two
months later I might have been full, but my season does not begin till
April, so we are quite empty at present."
A bargain was soon made with her, and Mrs. Thompson went to the top of
the stairs and called "Mother," and, to my great surprise, the old
bathing-woman herself came up. She knew me at once.
"Miss Ashleigh!" she exclaimed. "Oh, miss, I am so glad to see you. Do
you know it is only ten days ago, when I saw your loss in the paper,
that I said to Jane: 'Now, Jane, I should not be surprised if Miss
Ashleigh comes up to town; every one does seem to come up here some time
or other in their lives--perhaps this is her time.' And I said, miss,
that I should take the liberty of writing to you in a few days, in case
you might be coming up. I remembered I had given you Jane's address, but
I thought you would have lost that long since. It is very kind of you to
have thought of what an old woman said so long ago."
"Not kind at all," I said, "I was very glad to think that there was a
place I seemed to know something of, and as I wrote the address down in
my pocket-book at the time, I had no trouble in finding it. Have you
given up your old occupation?"
"No, miss, but it is not the season now, and only one of us waits on
through the winter, and as I begin to find the water then too cold for
my old limbs, I have given it up these last two winters, and come here
and stop with Jane and her husband."
Our landlady now took us upstairs. Our room was a nice large one, over
the drawing room. Harry's was behind ours, smaller, but quite large
enough for him, and both were beautifully clean and nice.
While tea was getting ready, we unpacked as much as we could, and in
half an hour, when Harry's voice was heard shouting at the foot of the
stairs that tea was ready, we were quite astonished to find how much we
had done, and how nearly we had finished our unpacking and putting away.
The room below looked so comfortable that we could not help exclaiming
with surprise and pleasure when we went in. A bright fire blazed in the
grate, various gauze covers which had been placed over the chimney glass
and picture frames, had been taken off. A white table-cloth was laid on
the table, with a very pretty tea service upon it. Harry had made the
tea, and the bright copper kettle was standing on the fire. I don't know
when I enjoyed a meal so much--it seemed so homelike and comfortable
that we were all quite in spirits, and certainly all very hungry; and we
agreed that it was most fortunate that I had kept the old
bathing-woman's address.
We were very comfortable at Mrs. Thompson's; indeed, we could not have
been more so in our own house, and we almost debated whether we should
not stay as we were. Still, after all, there is nothing like being in a
house of one's own; and it would give Polly and me something to do to
see after the housekeeping. Besides, Harry said that he wanted a place
where he could have men in of an evening to have a glass of grog and
smoke a pipe with him; for, although he did not mind smoking when alone
with us, he said he did not wish the room where his sisters were to look
like the bar parlour in a public-house.
On the Monday after we got there, Harry went up to work. Sometimes he
went to an office at the West End, and on these days we breakfasted at
half-past seven, which was rather a hardship; still it would cease to be
one in another month, when the mornings got lighter and the weather
warmer; and it could not be helped, as Harry had to catch the ten
minutes past eight train, so as to be at his office by nine. Sometimes
he had to go out surveying, and on these mornings he had to start very
early--soon after six. When he did this, we did not get up to breakfast
with him, but he had some bread and butter taken up to his room
overnight, and he made a cup of coffee in a patent machine over a
spirit-lamp.
After we had been in Putney about a week, and began to know the place a
little, Harry asked us to look about for a house. We were not long in
finding one, for Polly and I had observed a pretty little place to let
within a hundred yards of us, which we both agreed would suit exactly;
and now, having Harry's permission to look for a house, we at once went
there.
We found that it was just what we wanted; indeed, that it could not have
been more so if it had been specially built for the purpose. It was one
of a row of six little semi-detached villas--at least they were called
villas--but I think the word cottages would have been more appropriate.
They stood back from the road, with pretty flower gardens in front, and
a good large piece of ground behind for vegetables. A row of lime-trees
grew in the gardens close to the road, the branches of which were
trained towards each other, so that they formed a green wall in summer,
and it was only through the arch cut over each gate that the houses
could then be seen at all by passers-by. It was just the right size, and
was altogether a charming little place, and the rent was L35 a year.
Harry stopped at home the next morning an hour behind his usual time, to
go in with us to see it. He was as much pleased with it as we were, and
at once decided upon taking it. It was a few days before he could spare
time to give a day with us in town to buy the furniture; but in just a
month from the date of our arrival in Putney we were snugly installed in
our new home, which was called No. 1, Daisy Villas, Charlemagne Road;
and comfortable as we had been at Mrs. Thompson's, we all agreed it was
far pleasanter being in a house of our own. Harry had furnished the
drawing-room very nicely, and bought a piano as a joint present for
Polly and myself.
We had promised old Andrew that directly we were in a house of our own
we would have up his youngest daughter Susan, who had been with us for a
year before we left Canterbury, as our servant; and, accordingly, when
we had taken the cottage, and the furniture came in, we sent for Susan,
who arrived in due course, and was installed as our maid-of-all-work;
and an excellent servant she turned out.
On the opposite side of the road to us was a large field, which had as
yet escaped the builder's hands, and which was in autumn and winter used
as a playground for the children of the neighbourhood, and in spring and
summer was shut up, and kept for hay. Before we left, however, a builder
had began to erect a line of villas opposite to us, but for the first
two years there was nothing to interfere with our view; and even
afterwards it did not matter so much, for, as I have said, in summer our
lime-trees formed such a leafy screen that we could not see beyond our
bright little flower garden.
We liked Putney very much. Polly and I were capital walkers, and there
were such pretty walks to be taken round it--up the hill, and across the
common to Wimbledon, or on nearly to Kingston, or across Putney heath,
through Barnes, to Mortlake and Kew, or--best of all--through the green
lanes to Richmond Park, with its groups of splendid trees, its brown
fern brakes, and fallow-deer; and sometimes, when it was fine and the
water was high, along the towing-path to Hammersmith, to watch the
barges drifting lazily on the quiet water, and the steamboats, full of
holiday-makers to Kew, cleaving their swift way through it.
I certainly got to like Putney, with its quaint High Street, its noble
river, and its pretty walks, very very much--not in the same way that I
loved Canterbury. Canterbury, with its quiet, sleepy ways, is far better
suited to me as I am now; but as I was then, I thought Putney a
delightful place to live in. It was, too, such a convenient distance
from town, and once a week Polly and I used to walk across the bridge,
get into an omnibus, and go as far as the Circus, and then get out and
walk up Regent Street and Oxford Street, and look at the shops.
It was not always that we had shopping to do, although we generally
managed to want something, as a sort of excuse for going; but we both
enjoyed it much, it was all so new to us; for we had never been in
London at all, except at the time when we were at school--and then, of
course, we never went up into London itself, and when we were staying
respectively with Lady Desborough and Ada, when we were very much too
grand to go out shopping on foot. So that the shops, and the gay
carriages, and the bustle and confusion were all quite new, and very
pleasant to us.
Sometimes of an evening, when Harry got back in good time, he would take
us up to the theatre, at which he occasionally had a box given him by a
friend in the "Metropolitan." Being in deep mourning, we could not go
into any other part of the house; nor, indeed, did we go at all for the
first six months of our stay in London.
After we had been in our new home about a fortnight, I wrote to tell Ada
where we were. I had not done so before, because I did not wish her to
come down to see us till we were quite straight, and had everything very
nice: it was a little bit of pride, perhaps, but so it was. I had
received a letter from her a week after dear papa's death, condoling
with us, and asking Polly and me to go and stay with her for a while,
when we felt equal to it, until our future plans were settled; and I had
written back, thanking her, and telling her I would let her know when
things were arranged. After that, I had not sent my usual monthly letter
to her, but, as I had written myself to Percy, that did not matter. The
day before I wrote, I had received a letter from her, which was
forwarded from Canterbury, asking what had become of me, and this I now
answered by giving our present address, and saying how pleased we should
be to see her.
By this time it was the end of April; the season happened to be an early
one, and our garden was gay with spring flowers, with which we had
stocked it from a nursery close by, and the lime-trees in front were
just putting out their delicate green leaves.
On the very day after I had written to Ada, an open carriage with a
splendid pair of horses stopped in front of our house, and a tall
powdered footman got down, opened the gate and came down the little
walk, with a rather mystified air, as if wondering what his mistress
could possibly want at No. 1, Daisy Villas.
He knocked a prolonged and thundering knock at the door, such as had
probably never before been sounded upon it, and which was evidently
intended to impress us all with a sense of the extreme importance and
urgency of our visitor, and I heard him inquire of Susan, when she
opened the door, in a tone of the most dignified condescension, "If Miss
Ashleigh were at home?" Finding that she was, he returned, opened the
carriage door and let down the steps, and Ada got out and came up to the
door, and in another minute she was in my arms.
It was some time before we were composed enough to talk at all. It was
so long since we had met--nearly five years now--at the time when Percy
came down with her to Canterbury, when I became engaged to him. How much
had happened since then! how many changes! it seemed an age to look back
upon, and a very sad age too. Ada was naturally the first to recover
herself, and as soon as she saw that I could listen to her, she began to
scold me for being six weeks so near London without writing to let her
know, and said that she had felt so indignant, when she first received
my letter, that she had a great mind not to come down at all. I excused
myself as well as I could, and told her frankly that I had been
influenced by three reasons--the first, that from the time when we came
up we had been so occupied in seeing about the furniture of our new
house, that we had been busy from morning till night; the second, that
owing to the same cause, both we and the house had been in such a state
of confusion that we were not fit to receive visitors, and that I
preferred her seeing the place when it was clean and tidy; and lastly,
that I really had hardly felt equal to seeing her, and having so many
sad memories called up. Ada still scolded me a little, and then, finding
that I had now recovered myself, said:--
"There, Agnes, I will forgive you; and now let me look fairly at you:
turn to the light. Really, I do not think you look a year older."
"Nonsense, Ada, I know I am looking older; I do not care for myself, but
I only hope Percy will not think me looking dreadfully old when he comes
back."
"If he does, Agnes, I will have nothing to say to him. Let me see, he
has been gone now nearly four years,--four more, darling! it seems a
long time to wait, but still it is something that half has gone, and
what a happiness it is that his regiment was not out in that dreadful
Crimea. And now, how am I looking, Agnes?"
"A little changed, Ada. You see I speak the truth. You were, like
myself, nearly eighteen then; you are twenty-three now. Older, and a
little more matronly-looking, for you were a girl then; you are a woman
now, but certainly not less beautiful; indeed, I think more so, for your
face has a calmer and brighter expression than it had."
I was not flattering her, for as I looked at her I thought I had never
seen such a lovely woman in my life. Ada laughed and coloured a little,
and declared I was an old goose; and then I said:--
"And now for a very important question, Ada; how is baby?"
"Very well, Agnes; he is six months old now, getting quite a big,
troublesome boy. Ah, here is Polly!"
For Polly, always thoughtful, had remained out of the room, to let Ada
and me have our first meeting, after so long a separation, together
alone. It was only a year since they had met, and I was pleased to see
by her manner how fond Ada was of her; as in the event of my going to
India with Percy, her friendship would be very valuable to Polly.
"And is that your carriage, Ada?" I asked.
"Dear me, no," Ada said, "my equipage is a simple brougham. But I was in
at the Square this morning with Holmeskirk, and I said I was coming down
to see you; so the countess--who has a very high opinion of you, my
dear, and who constantly inquires after you, especially as she knows, of
course, how you stand with Percy--insisted on my taking her carriage and
leaving her card. She sent her love, and she hopes that you and Polly
will call upon her when you come over to see me; and I can assure you,
Agnes, the dear old lady meant it. And now what day will you come? I
will send my brougham down any day you like to name, that is if you will
let me first see what days I am disengaged."
Ada thereupon took out her tablets, and found she was engaged for every
day except Friday.
"Now, Agnes, I want you and Polly to come early to lunch. Then we will
have the countess's carriage--she is a great invalid now, and she likes
my using her carriage,--and we will have a drive in the park, and then a
long cosy talk till dinner, at seven. And I want your brother to come to
dinner, and then the brougham shall bring you back. Holmeskirk would
have called himself; but your letter said that your brother always went
out early, so he knew he had no chance of finding him in; but he asked
me to leave his card."
After a little consultation with Polly, I accepted the invitation as far
as the going up to dinner was concerned, but solely on condition that we
came up in our own way. Ada inquired what was our own way, and I said
that we should send up a box by the Parcels' Delivery with the things we
required for dinner, and that we ourselves should come up by an omnibus
to Sloane Street; that we would walk from there to her ladyship's, and
that we should have a fly to fetch us at night. And so it was agreed;
and Ada sat and talked for more than an hour, and then got up to go. We
went down the garden with her, and she stopped at the gate to kiss us
again before she got in; to, I have no doubt, the intense astonishment
of the powdered footman, who was holding the carriage-door open, and who
must have suffered the more that his position prevented him expressing
his feelings, except by assuming an expression of even more stony
impassiveness than before; for I have no doubt that before he saw this
mark of affection and familiarity, he had the impression that
Viscountess Holmeskirk had come down to pay a visit to some old nurse or
domestic whom she had known in childhood.
When Harry came home, I told him of the engagement we had made for him,
and he pished and grumbled, and said at first that he would not go; but,
as I pointed out, there was no possible excuse for his not doing so, and
indeed that it would be of no use, for Ada had particularly begged me,
should Harry say he was engaged for that day, to write at once and let
her know, and she would change the day for one in the following week. So
Harry had to give in, and on the day of our engagement arranged to dress
in town, and come straight down, for he was busy just then, and could
not get away till six o'clock. Polly and I got to Ada's house, which was
in Wilton Crescent, at one o'clock. Lord Holmeskirk was at home, and
renewed his acquaintance with me with the frank heartiness which was
natural to him.
After lunch Ada took us up to the nursery to see baby, and after we had
sufficiently admired him--and he was really a fine little fellow--we put
on our things and went for a drive with her in the park in the Countess
of Rochester's carriage. On our return we went in with Ada to call on
the countess herself, who lived in Belgrave Square, and who was very
kind in her manner and remarks. She was evidently very fond of Ada, and
not a little proud of her beautiful daughter-in-law; and I could see
that Ada, on her part, was very attached to the kind old lady, whom she
treated with a deference which I had certainly never seen her exhibit
for her own imperious mother.
After we got back to Ada's we took off our things, and sat down for a
long, cozy chat about the past. I found she was very happy in her
married life, and that her husband was all she could possibly wish him.
I certainly thought that her happiness had improved her; for, although
quite as cheerful as of old, she had a quiet dignity which very much
became her. She said that she hoped, when we were able to enter into
gaiety again, that we would let her take us with her into society.
For myself I declined at once, and I am glad that Polly did the same. I
told her we moved in a sphere as far removed from the one in which she
did, as the sun was from the earth, and that I was sure it was a great
mistake, as my own example might prove, to go out of it. "It is pleasant
for a time, Ada," I said, "but it is a bitter fruit; no good can come of
it. When Percy comes home, if we are married, and if Polly is still
single, it will be a different thing; but at present Daisy Villa has
nothing in common, except our affection, with Wilton Crescent and
Belgrave Square. We shall be very glad to come over sometimes to see you
quietly, and for you to drive over to see us when you can spare time
from your gaieties, but beyond that, as long as I am Miss Ashleigh,
nothing." Ada tried hard to shake my resolution, but in vain, and Polly
was equally firm with myself.
Harry came to dinner, and Ada made him feel perfectly at home. Certainly
prosperity had not spoiled her; she was just as frank and as friendly as
when she had been staying with us as a girl at Canterbury; she
introduced him to Lord Holmeskirk with a laughing remark, that Harry had
at one time very nearly prevented her from ever occupying the position
she now so unworthily filled, by making the most desperate love to her
when she was only sixteen years old. Lord Holmeskirk laughed, and said,
that in that case he was very greatly Harry's debtor in that he had not
succeeded in his attempt upon Ada's affections.
Harry and Lord Holmeskirk were soon on very friendly terms. They suited
each other well. They had moved certainly in very different circles, and
had seen very different sides of life; but they were of the same happy
disposition; both in their way singularly straightforward men, and both
gifted with the same honest determination to see only the best side of
things.
Our little dinner-party went off very pleasantly; and I felt quite
relieved to find that when we were helped, the servants left the room;
and Ada then told us that she had suffered so much as a girl from the
stony presence behind her mother's chair, that she had always
determined, if she were at the head of a house of her own, never to have
a servant in the room one moment longer than necessary.
After dessert was over, Ada and we went up to the nursery, leaving the
gentlemen over their wine, and I believe they would have sat and talked
there all night if Ada had not at last sent them message after message
to say that tea was ready upstairs. Soon after they came up our fly
arrived, and we went home very much pleased with our evening.
After that Harry never raised any objection to going to dine at Wilton
Crescent, which we afterwards did every month or so when Ada was in
town. Polly and I used to lunch with her once a fortnight, and the
coronetted carriage was very often down at Daisy Villa, where it never
ceased to be an object of wonder and admiration to the small children of
the neighbourhood, and I have no doubt gave us great standing and
dignity in the eyes of the inhabitants of the other five villas. I
really believe we never ceased to be subjects for wonder and speculation
to the countess's powdered footman, who knowing that Lord Holmeskirk had
married the daughter of the fashionable Lady Desborough, could never
form any hypothesis perfectly satisfactory to himself as to how she
could possibly come to be familiar with people living in such a small,
and exceedingly unfashionable domicile as No. 1, Daisy Villas,
Charlemagne Road, Putney.