Joanna rose.
"I'm going there now, for the very good reason that Lesbia Willoughby is
to be shown in there in half an hour's time. I shall have to see her
some time, and I may as well get it over."
"Mother, must you? Why not say that you're not seeing any one?"
"My dear," said Joanna dryly, "I've already answered two telegrams and
three letters and several telephone messages in which she offered to
come to me, and I think that nothing but word of mouth will have any
effect upon her. But I'll talk to you this evening, if there's anything
you want to know. John is dining here to tell us the result of his
Medical Board."
Joanna left the room, with her decisive, unhurried step, and Char,
ignoring Grace, said to Miss Bruce: "I have a lot of letters, sent on
from the office. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to give me a little help
this afternoon?"
"Certainly, Charmian."
Miss Bruce was gratified; but when Char had walked away without so much
as glancing at Grace, she could not help saying to her, with a sort of
flustered kindness: "I hope you'll find some way of amusing yourself,
Miss Jones."
She had loyally adopted Char's prejudice, but was too kind-hearted not
to try furtively to make up for it.
Miss Jones, however, was not destined to spend a solitary afternoon.
Mrs. Willoughby was driven to Plessing by Captain Trevellyan in his car;
and although Miss Bruce, casting sidelong glances from the window of
Char's boudoir, where she was busily taking notes from her dictation,
distinctly saw him enter the house, she felt certain that he proceeded
no further than the hall, where Grace sat reading by the fire.
Mrs. Willoughby went at once to the library, where she enfolded the
resigned Joanna in a prolonged embrace.
"My poor, poor dear! Words can _never_ tell you how I've felt for
you--how much I've longed to be with you!"
But despite the inadequacy of words, Mrs. Willoughby had a shrill
torrent of them at her command, with which she deluged Lady Vivian for
some time.
"Poor Lesbia!" Lady Vivian remarked afterwards to Grace; "she enjoyed
herself so much that I really couldn't grudge it to her!"
"He was so much, much older than you, dear, that it must almost feel
like losing a father, and I know that that unfortunate girl of yours
isn't very much comfort. She must be racked with remorse. Now, do tell
me, Joanna, would you like me to take her off your hands for six months?
Let her come back to London with me next week, and get her married off
before it's too late."
"Too late?"
"Well, Joanna, she must be thirty, and, mark my words, whatever people
may say about there being no men left, _things are happening every day_.
Half the mothers in London are getting their girls off now, what with
officers back on leave and officers in hospitals, and those dear
Colonials. Girls who never had a look in before the war can do anything
they like in the way of nursing, or leading the blind about, or working
in some of those departments where the over-age men are. Char is just
the sort of creature to prefer a man old enough to be her grandfa--"
Mrs. Willoughby's jaw dropped, and she made a repentant snatch at
Joanna's hand.
"Forgive me, darling! _How_ idiotic to say such a thing to you, of all
people! But if you'll give me your girl, I'll undertake to find chances
for her. She'll be very good-looking when she doesn't look so sulky and
take such airs, and one could make capital of all the patriotic work
she's been doing down here. And I _always_ think it's rather an asset
than otherwise to be in mourning, especially in these days. Black suits
her, too, with that sandy colouring. Does she choose her own clothes,
Joanna?"
"She does, Lesbia, and has chosen them ever since she was out of long
clothes, as far as I remember. But--"
"Joanna, you've been culpably weak, and of course that poor, dear old
man had simply no idea of discipline. But I can put the whole thing
right for you in six weeks, when the dear girl comes to me."
"It's no use, Lesbia," said Joanna, half laughing. "It's very kind of
you, but Char wouldn't hear of it and really at thirty I can't coerce
her--besides, there's her work here."
"My dear, you don't mean to say that you're going to allow that to go
on?"
"To begin with, I couldn't prevent it. To go on with, I think it
perfectly right that Char should do what she can in the way of war-work.
There wouldn't be the slightest object in her giving it up now."
"But Sir Piers--the memory of his wishes--_his_ memory!" almost shrieked
Mrs. Willoughby.
"His memory will survive it, Lesbia. Besides, as long as he was himself,
you know, he didn't mind her doing war-work. He quite understood the
necessity, and was proud of her."
"But, my dear, wrong-headed creature, when she so deliberately and
heartlessly went against his wishes at the last?"
"Well," said Joanna placidly, "she won't be doing that now, so she can
go on working with a clear conscience."
"Joanna," said Mrs. Willoughby, with an air of discovery, "upon my word,
I don't understand you."
Nevertheless, she devoted the major half of the afternoon to the object
of her perplexity.
"One word, dearest, I must say," she declared at the end of an hour
that, to Joanna's thinking, held already more than a sufficiency of
words. "Have you considered what is happening to that delightful lad?"
"Never," said Joanna unhesitatingly. "And who on earth are you talking
about, Lesbia?"
"That precious creature, Johnnie. Too guileless for words, my dear; but
if there's one thing I do understand, inside out and upside down, it's
men. I should have made a _perfect_ mother--young things adore me. Look
at my sweet Puffles! But I'm _miserable_ about John, who really has a
perfect passion for me, dear lad. Lewis always says that all the boys of
his regiment go through it, just like measles."
Joanna, who had heard this quotation before, ruthlessly disregarded it.
"What is happening to John?"
"My dear, do you mean to tell me you haven't seen it? But of course you
haven't, at such a time. What a brute I am! Forgive me, Joanna, but you
seem so _utterly_ unlike a widow. I can hardly realize it. But, of
course, that little secretary creature--she's had her eye on him all
along."
"I suppose, Lesbia, that you don't mean my poor old Bruce, who's been
with me almost ever since John was born?"
Lesbia uttered a screech between laughter and reproach.
"What an absurdity! Of course I mean the little Canteen girl--Jones, or
whatever her name is. My dear, will you believe me when I tell you that
when that poor innocent boy drove us up here just now and followed me
into the hall, there she was, actually waiting to pounce upon him,
sitting over the fire?"
"I can believe you quite easily," said Joanna, "all but the pouncing. We
none of us knew that John was going to drive you over, so she couldn't
have been waiting."
"Blind, reckless one!" cried Lesbia excitedly. "I can only tell you that
ever since those evenings at the Canteen I've seen what was coming. Do
you suppose that a young man wipes up dripping wet mugs for nothing?
Besides, Joanna, look at the air-raid! Of course, my poor dear, I know
that just at that time you were thinking of something altogether
different, but _I_ was there, if you remember."
"I remember hearing about it," Joanna admitted, with a vivid
recollection of Mrs. Willoughby's spirited behaviour on the occasion in
question having been described in unflattering terms by Captain
Trevellyan.
"My dear, after we'd all dispersed and the whole thing was over, that
wretched girl lured him back into the basement, under pretext of
fainting or something, and pretended to have hysterics on account of the
fright she'd had. And I assure you that she hadn't seen anything at all
of the raid, because she was the very first person to make a bolt for
downstairs. In fact," said Mrs. Willoughby modestly, "really, for one
moment there might have been a panic, if I hadn't _dashed_ into the
middle of the hall and called out that we were all Englishwomen and not
afraid of anything. And _after_ all that, the miserable girl goes and
faints away in his hands!"
"I did hear something about it--in fact, she told me herself, but it
wasn't nearly as dramatic as that, Lesbia. And his coming back and
finding her was pure chance. I think it was the last thing she wanted."
Mrs. Willoughby opened her eyes to their widest extent, flung back her
head, and exclaimed emphatically: "You will have no one in this world,
Joanna, no one but yourself, to blame if the very worst happens. Mark my
words, that uninteresting little creature, without a feature to bless
herself with, is going to make poor guileless Johnnie ask her to marry
him."
Joanna had some opinion of Mrs. Willoughby's shrewdness, if none of her
discretion, and this prognostication gave her a sense of comfort which
she had had no slightest expectation of deriving from the visit of
condolence. It even enabled her to thank Lesbia with sufficient
cordiality for coming, as she at last escorted her into the hall.
"When we shall meet again, dearest, I am utterly unable to declare," was
a valediction which added considerably to her relief at parting. "My
Lewis won't let me stay down here any longer, now that I'm fairly fit
again. He's too sweet and self-sacrificing for words, poor lamb! 'Go
back to London where there are a thousand jobs and undertakings _crying
out for you_,' he says. I really can't bear to leave him, and the dear
regiment, and my beloved Canteen, let alone you, whom I've always looked
upon as the oldest, dearest of links with my girlhood. But, of course,
my poor committees must be getting into the most ghastly muddles, and I
know that all my officer protégés are in despair. They write me the most
heartrending letters."
Lesbia shrouded herself in sables, wound a motor-veil round and round
her head, and cast a piercing glance round the hall.
"What did I tell you, Joanna?"
"You told me that John was here with Miss Jones, but I don't see either
of them. Is he going to drive you back?"
"So he pretended, my dear, but I can't answer for what she--"
Trevellyan came into the hall and greeted Lady Vivian.
"I've not kept you waiting, Mrs. Willoughby, I hope? I went to bring the
car round."
"Where is Grace?" asked Lady Vivian, not without malice.
"Just come in and gone upstairs. We've been looking at your turnips,"
said John seriously. "A very fine crop, Cousin Joanna."
"We shall all be _living_ on turnips quite soon," Lesbia declared with
acerbity. "Good-bye, my poor dear Joanna, and do think over all I've
been saying to you. Remember that a telegram would bring me at any hour,
for as long as you please, and I'll take your girl off your hands
whenever you like. I could make her _quite_ useful in some of my
war-work."
Joanna turned away from the door, thankful to reflect that neither her
daughter nor Miss Bruce had been present to hear this monstrous
assertion.
As she crossed the hall, Grace came downstairs. Lady Vivian smiled at
her.
"You've a knack of appearing just when I want you. I've just seen Lesbia
Willoughby off, since she mercifully refused to stay to tea. Has the
second post come?"
"Yes. I've got a letter that I rather wanted to talk to you about, from
Miss Marsh at the Hostel."
Joanna sat down, her hands lying idly folded in her lap, while Grace
read aloud:
"DEAR GRACIE,
"You'll think it extraordinary, me writing to you like this, but we
really do miss you here, especially in our room, and the whole place has
been upside down since you went away. This is because poor Mrs.
Bullivant has actually got the sack, if you can believe such a thing,
for no reason on earth that any one can discover. She had a slip from
Miss V. dated two days before Christmas--but it only reached her on
Christmas Day--telling her that other arrangements would be made at the
New Year. Of course, we're all fearfully sick, as you'll guess, and Mrs.
Bullivant has been simply howling about it ever since, though she's as
quiet as ever and never lets on. But she looks rotten, and Tony can hear
her crying in her own room at nights. You can imagine what a jolly
Christmas we've all had! The point of bothering you with all this,
however, is that perhaps you can find out what she's expected to do.
It's all very well to say, 'Clear out at the New Year,' but Miss
Vivian's being away, and in such trouble and all, makes it all jolly
awkward. We sent a petition signed by all of us to ask if Mrs. Bullivant
could be kept on; but of course there's been no answer, and she simply
doesn't in the least know what to do. Do you think it would be all right
if she just hung on till Miss V. gets back? Perhaps then she'll have
read the petition and made up her mind to let her stay on as
Superintendent. Of course, that's what we all hope, and, in fact, some
of the girls are so sick about it that I shouldn't be surprised if some
resignations were sent in. We've been hearing something that's made us
all sit up _re_ Miss V. and--"
"That's all about Mrs. Bullivant," said Grace hastily.
"Nonsense!" cried Joanna vigorously; "you've stopped at the most amusing
bit. Unless it's marked private, for goodness' sake go on, and tell me
what this scandal can be. I'm quite relieved to hear that Char's past
holds _anything_ exciting."
Grace began to laugh.
"It isn't marked private, and there really isn't much to read."
"--and there'll be a good deal less said in future about how wonderful
she is. Did you know that her father and mother, after he first got ill,
simply _begged_ her to stay at home, for his sake, and she absolutely
wouldn't? Work is all very well, but I must say that seems jolly
callous, and one can't help wondering whether it really was the work she
was after, or just the excitement and the honour and glory of her
position. I know you never--"
Grace stopped again, and Lady Vivian said: "She knows you never liked
her--well, go on."
"--and most of the rest of us are feeling rather off the 'personal
influence' stunt just at the moment. Delmege, of course, takes a high
line and goes in for loyalty, etc., etc.--in fact, won't speak to any of
us at present. But, as I say, that's her loss and not ours.
"Now, dear old thing, I'm going to leave off, as you're probably sick of
my scrawl by this time, and it's high time I was off to my bed. Try and
find out if there's any chance of Mrs. B.'s being allowed to carry on
for the present, and send me a line if you've time.
"Every one sends all sorts of love, and we shall all be most awfully
glad to see you turn up again. This place is more putrid than ever
without you, and with all this fuss going on about Miss Vivian; but I
dare say it'll all turn out for the best if it makes us a bit keener
about the work for its own sake, and not for hers. After all, there _is_
a war on!"
"Yours with best love,
"DORA MARSH."
"Dora Marsh seems to me to be an uncommonly sensible girl," observed
Lady Vivian thoughtfully.
She gazed into the fire in silence for a few moments before adding: "I
wonder who's been talking to them about Char? The only person I can
think of is Dr. Prince. I know he felt very strongly about it, and I
don't altogether wonder, though it may seem rather hard on her to have
her reputation for infallibility destroyed at last."
"I think," said Grace, "that there would have been some feeling at the
Hostel, in any case, at Mrs. Bullivant's dismissal. She's been so kind
and nice to us all, and worked so hard always, and, of course, every one
knows that the loss of the position is serious for her. She's very poor,
and she has no home of her own to go to."
"Of course, it's unthinkable. Char _must_ have some reason for
dismissing her. I shall insist upon being told what it is!" cried
Joanna.
There was more animation in her manner than Grace had seen there for
some time, and she was quite ready to follow her upstairs in immediate
search of Char.
The Director of the Midland Supply Depôt was at her writing-table,
leaning back in the familiar attitude that invariably recalled to Grace
old-fashioned engravings of an Eastern potentate, her eyes half closed,
her slim fingers tapping upon the table in front of her, and her slow,
deep voice drawling in fluent dictation.
Miss Bruce, far from possessing the skill of Mrs. Baker-Bridges, sat
agitatedly scribbling on various odd half-sheets of paper. Further notes
lay strewn all over the table and on the floor beside her chair.
She looked up with shamefaced but unmistakable relief at the
interruption.
"Have you been victimized all the afternoon?" inquired Joanna kindly,
but with her usual unfortunate choice of expression.
"Oh, no, no!" said Miss Bruce, almost with horror. "But Charmian must be
tired. She's been working without a moment's rest, and it really does
give one some sort of idea of all that she must do at the office every
day."
Char rewarded her with a melancholy smile.
"At the office there are the telegrams, and the telephone messages, and
endless interviews to deal with as well. I don't think I ever get a
consecutive hour's time there to deal with the correspondence without
interruption. Now, all these letters which you see here could--"
Joanna interrupted the Director of the Midland Supply Depôt without
ceremony.
"I want you to tell me, Char, why you want that nice little
Superintendent of yours to leave the Hostel. The staff there is in
despair."
Char suddenly sat upright.
"That is a purely official matter, and it's disgraceful that there
should have been gossip about it already."
"But why have you dismissed her?"
"Because she is quite inadequate to fill the post of Hostel
Superintendent. I was there myself, and I never was in a worse-managed
or more uncomfortable establishment in my life."
"I can quite believe it, my dear, but I'm inclined to think--and Grace,
who knows more about it than I do, agrees with me--that she's never had
a fair chance of running it properly."
"I don't propose to discuss the matter with my secretary, mother."
"But why not talk it over like ordinary human beings, Char?" said Lady
Vivian, reverting to all her old half-impatient, half-humorous
outspokenness. "I've no patience with you. What in the name of fortune
is the sense of vexing and distressing everybody, when by a little
decent management the whole thing could be put on to a proper basis?
Grace, you've lived in that Hostel. If the Superintendent had a freer
hand, couldn't it be made more comfortable?"
"Yes, especially with any one as hard-working and anxious to make things
nice as Mrs. Bullivant. She may not be a very good manager, but,
indeed," said Grace pleadingly, "things have been very much against her.
If she could engage the sort of servants that she needs, and if there
were fewer people in the Hostel, so as to give more room, and better
arrangements made about the hot water and the food, it could be very
nice."
"You are all in that Hostel for the purpose of war-work, Miss Jones, and
I should have thought that with that end in view a few minor discomforts
could have been overlooked. When one thinks of our men in the
trenches--"
"However much you may have thought of them, Char, it didn't prevent your
going into rooms before you'd been at the Hostel a fortnight," Joanna
interrupted briskly. "Those girls are just as much flesh and blood as
you are yourself, whether you own to it or not. But I can tell you one
thing, and that is that they're beginning to find it out for
themselves."
"To find out what?" said the Director of the Midland Supply Depôt, vexed
to the extent of for once speaking shortly and in monosyllables.
Joanna shrugged her shoulders, and Grace said emphatically:
"Mrs. Bullivant is very popular, you know, and the staff can't
understand her getting such a summary dismissal. After all, it's very
serious for her, apart from everything else, because she's got to live."
"To which, I suppose, Char would like to reply, 'Je n'en vois pas la
nécessité,'" quoted Lady Vivian, with her irrepressible laugh. "But it
really won't do, Char. You're dealing with human beings, and you'll have
to make up your mind to it."
"I am dealing," said Char magnificently, "with an organization."
"Even so, my dear, it's made up of human beings. But as it's tea-time
and I'm extremely hungry," said Lady Vivian, with a side-glance at Miss
Bruce, "we'd better postpone discussion until this evening. I don't know
whether you feel human enough to leave your papers and eat bread and jam
with the rest of us, but I dare say that Grace and Miss Bruce won't give
you away to the staff if you do."
The outraged Miss Vivian left the last word to the ribald spirit
apparently animating her parent.