THE NEW CHAUFFEUR
As the new arrival wandered up the street, and inspected the village,
he had been under the impression that the place was deserted--he
scarcely saw a soul; but this was the way of Ottinge folk, they spent
most of their time (especially of an evening) indoors, and though
he was not aware of it, Ottinge had inspected him! Girls sewing in
windows, men lounging in the Drum, women shutting up their fowl,
all had noted the stranger, and wondered who this fine, tall young
gentleman might be? An hour later they were amazed to learn that he was
no more and no less than the Parretts’ new chauffeur, who was lodging
with Sally Hogben--Sally, who could talk faster and tell more about a
person in five minutes than another in twenty. This intelligence--which
spread as water in a sponge--created a profound sensation, and shared
the local interest with the news of the sudden death of Farmer Dunk’s
best cow.
The following morning it was the turn of the chauffeur to be surprised.
When he repaired to the Manor, to report himself and ask for orders, he
encountered Miss Parrett herself in the hall, who informed him, in her
shrillest bleat, that as she did not propose to use the car that day,
and as there was nothing else for him to do, he could put in his time
by cleaning windows. When Wynyard heard Miss Parrett’s order, his face
hardened, the colour mounted to his forehead, and he was on the point
of saying that he had been engaged as chauffeur, and not as charwoman;
but a sharp mental whisper arrested the words on his lips:
“Are you going to throw up your situation within twenty-four hours, and
be back on Leila’s hands after all the trouble she has taken for you?”
demanded this peremptory voice. “You must begin at the bottom of the
ladder if you want to get to the top. Let this old woman have her own
way, and bully you--and if you take things quietly, and as they come,
your affairs will mend.”
After what seemed to Miss Parrett a most disrespectful silence, during
which she glared at Owen with her little burning eyes, and mumbled with
her toothless jaws, he said slowly--
“All right, ma’am. I’ve never cleaned windows yet, but I’ll do my best;
perhaps you will give me something to clean them with?”
“Go through that door and you will find the kitchen,” said Miss
Parrett. “The cook will give you cloths, soap, and a bucket of water.
You may begin in the dining-room;” and pointing towards the servants’
quarters, she left him. As he disappeared, Susan, who had overheard the
last sentence, boldly remonstrated--
“Really, Bella, that young man is not supposed to undertake such jobs!
He was only engaged as chauffeur, and I’m sure if you set him to do
housework, he will leave.”
“Let him, and mind your own business, Susan,” snapped her sister. “He
is in _my_ employment, and I cannot afford to pay him two guineas a
week--six shillings a day--for doing nothing. I am not a millionaire!
As it is, my hand is never out of my pocket.”
“But you engaged him to drive the car, and if you are afraid to go out
in it, is that his fault?” argued Susan, with surprising courage.
“Who says I’m afraid?” demanded Miss Parrett furiously. “Susan, you
forget yourself. I shall have the car to-morrow, and motor over to call
on the Woolcocks.”
Meanwhile Owen passed into the back premises, which were old and
spacious. Here, in a vast kitchen overlooking a great paved yard, he
found a tall woman engaged in violently raking out the range. She
started as he entered, and turned a handsome, ill-tempered face upon
him.
“Can you let me have some cloths and a bucket of hot water?” he asked
in his clear, well-bred voice.
“Yes, sir,” she answered, going to a drawer. “What sort of
cloths--flannels or rubbers?”
“Something for cleaning windows.”
“Oh, laws, so you’re the new chauffeur! Well, I never!” And, leaving
the drawer open, she turned abruptly, leant her back to the dresser,
and surveyed him exhaustively.
He nodded.
“And so that’s the sort of work the old devil has set you to? Lady
Kesters engaged me for this place, and by all accounts she did the
same kindness by you and me! I understood as this was a proper
establishment, with a regular housekeeper and _men_--a butler at least
and a couple of footmen; there isn’t as much as a page-boy. It’s
a swindle! I suppose you take your meals with us?” (Here, with an
animated gesture, she dismissed an inquisitive kitchen-maid.)
“No; I board myself.”
Her face fell. This good-looking chauffeur would be some one to flirt
with, and her voice took a yet sharper key.
“You’re from London, I can see, and so am I. Lord! this is a
change”--now casting herself into a chair. “Ye see, I was ordered
country air, and so I came--the wages being fair, and assistance given;
and thinking we were in a park, I brought my bicycle, and expecting
there’d be some society, I brought a couple of ball-gowns, and find
this!” and her expression was tragic.
“Have you been here long?” he asked civilly.
“Two weeks too long. I give notice next day, and am going at the month,
and you won’t be long after me, _I_ bet! Do you bike?”
“No,” he answered rather shortly.
“Well, anyway, you’ve the use of your legs! To-morrow is my evening
out, so you come round here at five, and I’ll give you a nice cup o’
tea, and we’ll go for a stroll together. We _ought_ to be friendly,
seeing as we both come from Lady Kesters’ recommendation.”
To walk out with the cook! This was ten times worse than
window-cleaning! Wynyard was beating his brain for some civil excuse
when Miss Parrett herself appeared in the doorway--an accusing and
alarming figure.
“This is a nice way you waste my time!” she exclaimed, with an angry
glance at both. “You and cook gossiping together and idling. Where are
the cloths and the hot water, young man?”
The cook, grumbling audibly and insolently, went back to the dresser,
and Miss Parrett, with folded arms, waited dramatically in the kitchen
till Wynyard was provided for. He then walked off with a brief “Thank
you” to his fellow-culprit. As he passed along the flagged passage he
caught Miss Parrett’s shrill voice saying--
“Now, I’ll not have you flirting with that young man, so I warn you!
I’ll have no carryings-on in _my_ house.”
Then a door was slammed with thunderous violence, and there was silence.
No, by Jove, he could not stand it, he said to himself as he set down
his bucket, and wrung out a cloth; like the cook, he, too, would
depart, and in his next situation stipulate for no women. Of course
Leila would be disappointed, and he was sorry; but Leila would never
ask him to put up with _this_! He would give a week’s notice and
advertise; he had enough money to keep him going for a while, and his
certificate.
Presently he set to work on the dining-room, where there were three old
casemented, mullioned windows; to clean these he stood on the lawn, and
had begun his job when Miss Susan entered, smiling and radiating good
humour.
“I dare say you don’t know much about this sort of work,” she began
apologetically, “and I’ll just show you! You have to use lots of clean
water, and stand outside on the lawn--no fear of breaking your neck.”
Then in another tone she added, “I’ll see you are not asked to do this
again; at present we are rather short-handed, but by and by everything
will go smoothly.” She was about to add something more, when her sister
put her head in at the door, and called out--
“Now, do come away, Susan, and don’t stand gossiping with the young
man, and idling him at his work. He has wasted half an hour with the
cook already!”
Wynyard, as he rubbed away at the panes, whistled gaily whilst his mind
dwelt on many matters, amongst others of how strange that he should
be down in this queer, God-forsaken village, living in a labourer’s
cottage, and employed in cleaning windows! Well, he had Miss Susan’s
word for it that he would not be asked to do it again; she was a good
sort, with a nice, cheery face, and such a pair of twinkling blue eyes.
Then he thought of the tragic cook, also sent by Leila, and he laughed
aloud. The house wanted a lot of servants, and as far as he could
gather the staff was short-handed; probably Miss Aurea would see to all
this, since she managed every one in Ottinge, did as she liked, and was
the prettiest girl within ten parishes!
Wynyard was a handy man, and got through his work rapidly and
well. He fetched many cans of water, and presently moved on to the
drawing-room--another low room with heavily beamed ceiling and a
polished oak floor. The apartment was without carpet or curtains, and
scantily furnished with various old chairs, settees and cabinets,
ranged against the wall. He was sitting outside on the sill, whistling
under his breath, polishing his last casement, when he heard, through
the half-open door, a clear young voice talking with animation, and a
girl came into the room laughing--followed by an Aberdeen terrier on a
leash. As she advanced, he noticed that she had wild rose colouring,
wavy dark hair, merry dark eyes, and an expression of radiant vitality.
Tom was right! Here, no doubt, was Miss Aurea, the prettiest girl in
ten parishes!
As Wynyard looked again at this arresting vision something strange
seemed to stir in his heart and come to life. First impressions have a
value distinct from the settled judgment of long experience.
“What a floor, Susie!” exclaimed the young lady. “Really, we must
get Aunt Bella to give a dance;” and as she spoke she began to hum
the “Merry Widow Waltz,” and to execute some remarkably neat steps,
accompanied by the terrier, who struggled round in her wake, barking
indignantly.
“Mackenzie, you _are_ an odious partner!” addressing the animal; then
to her aunt, “I’ve brought him on the chain, and he has me on the
chain; he is so strong! We have accosted and insulted every single
village dog, and frightened Mrs. Watkins’ cats into hysterics! However,
he can’t get loose and murder poor gentlemanly Joss! Oh, we little knew
_what_ we were doing when we accepted Mac as a darling puppy!”
“I must confess that I never care for these aggressive, stiff-necked
Aberdeens, and I don’t pretend to like Mac. To tell you the honest
truth, I’m mortally afraid of him!”
“But he must be exercised, Susan. And now we must exercise ourselves,
and begin on this room. I’ve sent over the curtains, and they are ready
to go up.”
Suddenly she noticed the stranger, who was polishing a distant window.
“Why, I thought it was Hogben!” she muttered. “Who is it, Susie?” and
she looked over at Wynyard with an air of puzzled interest.
“The new chauffeur, my dear,” was the triumphant response. “He only
came yesterday; his name is Owen.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the girl, turning her back to the window and speaking
in a low voice. “And didn’t he _object_?”
“No; but I fancy he doesn’t like it. He seems a nice civil young
fellow. Lady Kesters found him for us.”
“Did she? I sincerely hope he is a better find than the cook. What a
fury! Even Aunt Bella is afraid of her!”
“She has a splendid character from her late mistress.”
“I dare say, in order to pass her on at any price. She’s a first-rate
cook, but a regular demon.”
“My dear, they all have tempers--it’s the fire, poor things. Now, about
the chauffeur----”
At this moment the object of her conversation threw up the sash and
stepped into the room--a fine figure in his clean blue shirt, turned up
to the elbows, well-cut breeches, and neat leather leggings.
“I’ve finished this room, miss,” he said, addressing himself to Miss
Susan. “What am I to do next?” and his eyes rested upon her with
respectful inquiry.
“No more windows to-day, thank you, Owen. I expect it is nearly your
dinner-hour.”
“Shall you require the car this afternoon, miss?”
“No; but it will certainly be wanted to-morrow,--eh, Aurea?”
“Then I’d better take her out and give her a turn;” and with this
remark he picked up his bucket and rags, and walked out of the room.
During this brief conversation, Aurea stood by listening with all her
ears, and making mental notes. Her aunt’s new chauffeur, with his
clean, tanned, high-bred face, spoke like an educated man.
“My dear Susie,” she inquired, “where did Lady Kesters get hold of such
a superior person?”
“I’m sure I can’t tell you. She said she had known his family all
her life, and that they were most respectable people. Chauffeurs are
supposed to be smart, and well-groomed, eh?”
Yes, but there was more than this about the late window-cleaner--
something in his gait, carriage, and voice, and, unless she was greatly
mistaken, the new employé was a gentleman; but with unusual prudence
Aurea contrived to keep her suspicion to herself. Aloud she said--
“Well, now, let us see about the carpet! This room ought to be settled
at once--pictures up, and curtains; there’s no place to ask visitors
into, and you’ve been here six months. You are lazy, Miss Susan
Parrett--this _is_ sleepy hollow.”
“Oh, my dear child, you know perfectly well it’s your Aunt Bella; and
she won’t make up her mind. What’s done one day is taken down another.
What _is_ that awful row?”
“It’s Mackenzie and Joss,” cried Aurea, dashing towards the door.
Mackenzie, at large and unnoticed, had stealthily followed the
chauffeur out of the room, and stolen a march upon his deadly
enemy--Miss Parrett’s impudent and interloping mongrel. The result of
this dramatic meeting was a scene in the hall, where Miss Parrett,
mounted on a chair, looked on, uttering breathless shrieks of “Aurea!
Aurea! it’s all _your_ fault!” whilst round and round, and to and fro,
raged the infuriated animals, snarling and growling ferociously, their
teeth viciously fastened in each other’s flesh.
Mackenzie, the more experienced, able-bodied, and malevolent of the
two, had Joss by the throat--Joss, for his part, was steadily chewing
through Mackenzie’s fore-leg.
Here Wynyard came to the rescue, and, though severely bitten, succeeded
after some difficulty in separating the combatants; he and Miss Aurea
somehow managed it between them, but he had borne the brunt of the
fray, the forefront of the battle.
A good deal of personal intimacy is involved in such encounters, and
by the time the panting Mackenzie was hauled away by the collar, and
the furious Joss had been incarcerated in the dining-room, the new
chauffeur and Miss Morven were no longer strangers.