OLDSTONE COTTAGE
The journey from Montricheux to London accomplished, Ann was speeding
through the familiar English country-side once more and finding it doubly
attractive after her six months' sojourn abroad. The train slowed down to
manipulate a rather sharp curve in the line as it approached Silverquay
station, and she peered eagerly out of the window to see the place which
was henceforth to mean home to her. She caught a fleeting glimpse of white
cliffs, crowned with the waving green of woods, of the dazzling blue of a
bay far below, and of a straggling, picturesque village which climbed the
side of a steep hill sloping upward from the shore. Over all lay the warm
haze of early July sunshine. Then the train ran into the station and she
had eyes only for Robin's tall, straight figure as he came striding along
the platform to meet her.
Brother and sister resembled each other but slightly. In place of Ann's
tempestuous coppery hair Robin was endowed with sober brown, and for her
golden-hazel eyes, with their changeful lights, nature had substituted in
him a pair of serious greenish-brown ones. But they were attractive eyes,
for all that, with a steady, "trustable" expression in them that reminded
one of the eyes of a nice fox terrier.
"Robin!" Ann sprang out of the railway-carriage and precipitated herself
upon him with unconcealed delight. "Oh, my dear, how are you? Let me have a
good look at you!"
She pushed him a little away from her and her eyes flashed over his face
and figure searchingly. Then she nodded as though satisfied with her
inspection. Whereas when she had last seen him he had limped a bit as a
consequence of his wound, to-day he had crossed the platform with the old,
easy, swinging stride of the pre-war Robin, and although his face was still
rather on the thin side, it had lost the look of delicacy which, a year
ago, had worried her considerably.
"Isn't this all simply splendid, Robin?" she said gaily, as, after giving
her luggage in charge of a porter, they made their way out of the station.
"Never tell me dreams don't come true after this--if you dream them hard
enough!"
He smiled down at her. Her spontaneous enthusiasm was infectious.
"It certainly looks as if they do," he agreed. "Here's our trap. Jump in!"
She regarded the smart ralli-cart and bright bay cob with interest. The
latter, held with difficulty by a lad Robin had left in charge, was dancing
gently between the shafts, impatient to be off.
"_Our_ trap?" queried Ann.
"Yes. It goes with the cottage," explained Robin. "Coventry's been awfully
decent over everything. Of course, he provides me with a gee to get about
on, but as soon as he heard I had a sister coming to live with me he sent
down this pony and cart from his own stables. Naturally, I told him that
that kind of thing wasn't included in the bond, but he shut me up with the
remark that no woman could be expected to settle down at the back of beyond
unless she had something to drive."
"He must be an extremely nice young man," commented Ann, as she settled
herself in the trap.
Robin gathered up the reins and they set off, the sleek little cob at once
breaking into a sharp trot which carried them swiftly along the leafy
country road.
"Coventry's not very young," observed Robin, as they sped along. "Must be
six or seven and thirty, at least. And I don't think _you_ would describe
him as 'nice' if you'd met him. He's very brusque in his manner at times,
and I don't fancy women figure much in his scheme of existence."
"Oh, well, he's of no importance beyond being the source of a perfectly
topping billet for you." Ann brushed the owner of Heronsmere off the map
with an airy wave of her hand. "He's quite at liberty to enjoy his
womanless Eden as far as I'm concerned. Men--other than extremely nice
brothers, of course!--are really far more bother than they're worth.
They're--they're so _unexpected_"--with a swift recollection of the
upsetting vagaries of mood exhibited by a certain member of the sex.
Robin threw her a brief glance, then, drawing his whip lightly across the
cob's glossy flanks, he asked casually:
"And how did you leave the Brabazons?"
"They're both looking very fit after three months in Switzerland, of
course, but I think Tony found it a bit boring compared with Monte Carlo.
They came straight on to Montricheux from Mentone, you know."
"Tony still gambles as much as ever, then?"
Ann's face clouded.
"I'm afraid he does," she acknowledged. "At least, whenever he gets the
chance."
"Well, he won't get much chance down at Lorne," remarked Robin
philosophically.
"They're not going down to Lorne yet. They go back to Audley Square till
the end of this month. That's quite long enough for Tony to get into
trouble"--ruefully. "Lady Susan says he plays a lot in her nephew's
set--that's the Brett Forrester Tony sometimes speaks of as such a fine
bridge player."
"I've heard of Forrester from other people," observed Robin. "He's got the
reputation of being one of the most dare-devil gamblers in London--in every
shape and form. Cards, horses, roulette--anything you like as long as it's
got the element of chance in it."
Ann's brows drew together.
"That may be all right for Mr. Forrester. As Lady Susan says, he can afford
to throw money away if he chooses. Tony can't, you know. Sir Philip's
pretty strict over his allowance."
"I'm rather anxious to meet your Lady Susan," said Robin. "It was very
decent of her to let you leave her almost at once like that."
"Lady Susan always _would_ do the decent thing, I think," returned Ann,
smiling. "The other thing doesn't seem to occur to her. You'll meet her
before long, as she comes straight home from Paris. Isn't it strange that
you should get this berth and that we should come to live quite close to
her?"
"Rather a coincidence." Robin, occupied in restraining a sudden
tendency on the part of the pony to frolic a little as they neared home,
replied somewhat abstractedly. He was a good whip, and under his quiet
handling the cob soon steadied down to a more reasonable gait and finally
pulled up decorously at a green-painted gateway. A diminutive and hugely
self-important young urchin, whom Ann learned later to know as Billy
Brewster, the odd-job boy, appeared simultaneously and flew to the pony's
head, grasping his bridle with as much promptitude as if there were
imminent danger of his bolting at sight. Billy's ultimate ambition in life
was to be a groom--he adored horses--and although, at present, the
exigencies of fate ordained that boots, coals, and knives should be added
to his lot, he proposed to lose no opportunity of acquiring the right touch
of smartness requisite for his future profession.
Ann laughed as she passed through the gate which Robin held open for her,
while Billy touched his hat rapturously for the third time.
"Who is that fascinating imp?" she asked. "Is he one of our retainers,
Robin?"
He nodded, smiling.
"That's Billy. He does everything Maria doesn't choose to do, in addition
to grooming the horses. You will observe he is the complete groom--minus
livery!"
Ann's eager glance swept the low, two-storied cottage which faced her. It
was a cosy, home-like looking little house, approached by a wide flagged
path bordered with sweet, old-fashioned country flowers. One of its walls
was half concealed beneath a purple mist of wistaria, while on the other
side of the porch roses nodded their heads right up to the very eaves of
the roof. From the green-clothed porch itself clustered trumpets of
honeysuckle bloom poured forth their meltingly sweet perfume on the air.
And framed in the green and gold of the honeysuckle, her face wreathed in
smiles, stood the comfortable figure of Maria Coombe.
Ann was conscious of a sudden tightening about her throat. The sight of
Maria, with her shrewd, kindly eyes smiling above her plump pink cheeks,
and her hands thrust deep into the big, capacious pockets of her snowy
apron, just as she remembered her in the long-ago nursery days at Lovell,
brought back a flood of tender memories--of the old home in Devon which she
had loved so intensely, of Virginia, frail and sweet, filling the place of
that dead mother whom she had never known, of all that had gone to make up
the happy, care-free days of childhood.
"Maria!" With a cry Ann fled up the flagged path, and the next moment
Maria's arms had enveloped her and she was coaxing and patting and hugging
her just as she had done through a hundred childish tragedies in years gone
by, with the soft, slurred Devon brogue making familiar music in Ann's
ears.
"There now, there now, miss dear, don't 'ee take on like that. 'Tis a cup
of tea you be wanting, sure's I'm here. An' I've a nice drop of water
nearing the boil to make it for you."
She drew Ann into the living-room--a pleasant sunshiny room with a huge
open hearth that promised roaring fires when winter came--and whisked away
into the back regions to brew the tea.
Ann smiled up at Robin rather dewily.
"Oh, Robin, we ought to be awfully happy here!" she exclaimed. As she
spoke, like a shadow passing betwixt her and the sun, came the memory of
the morning at Montricheux, when she had been waiting for Lady Susan's
coming and some vague foreboding of the future had knocked warningly at the
door of her consciousness. For a moment the walls of the little room seemed
to melt away, dissolving into thick folds of fog which rolled towards her
in ever darker and darker waves, threatening to engulf her. Instinctively
she stretched out her hand to ward them off, but they only drew nearer,
closing round her relentlessly. And then, just as she felt that there was
no escape, and that they must submerge her utterly, there came the rattle
of crockery, followed by Maria's heavy tread as she marched into the room
carrying the tea-tray, and the illusion vanished.
"There's your tea, Miss Ann and Master Robin, an' some nice hot cakes as
I've baked for you." Maria surveyed her handiwork with obvious
satisfaction. "And I'm sure I wish you both luck and may a dark woman be
the first to cross your threshold."
"You superstitious old thing, Maria!" laughed Robin. "As if it could make
twopenny-worth of difference whether a blonde or brunette called upon us
first!"
"I don't know nothing about blondes and brunettes, sir," replied Maria,
with truth. "But they do say 'twill bring you luck if so be a dark woman's
the first to cross your threshold after the New Year's in, and it seems
only reasonable that 'twould be the same when you go into a new house."
Unfortunately Maria's hopes were not destined to be fulfilled, as the first
person to cross the threshold of Oldstone Cottage after Ann's arrival was
Caroline Tempest, the rector's sister. "Miss Caroline," as she was
invariably called by the villagers, was a flat-chested, colourless
individual with one of those thin noses which seem to have grown
permanently elongated at the point in the process of prying into other
people's business. Her hair, once flaxen, was now turning the ugly
yellowish grey which is the fair woman's curse, and her eyes were like pale
blue china beads.
She appeared, accompanied by the rector, about half an hour after Maria had
brought in tea, and seemed overwhelmed to discover that Ann herself had
only just arrived.
"I really must apologise," she declared, in the voice of a superior person
making a very generous concession. "I quite thought you were expecting your
sister yesterday, Mr. Lovell. I told you so, didn't I, Brian?" She appealed
to her brother, who nodded rather unhappily. "And we thought we'd like to
call as soon as possible and welcome you to the parish."
Ann didn't believe a word of it.
"She knew perfectly well you were expecting me to-day," she declared when,
later on, she and Robin found themselves alone again. "Though I haven't the
slightest doubt she told that nice brother of hers just what she wished him
to believe. She simply wanted to have first look at me so as to be able to
give the village to-morrow a full, true, and particular account of what I'm
like."
However, she replied to Miss Caroline's apologies with the necessary
cordiality demanded by the occasion and, ringing for Maria, ordered fresh
tea. The rector protested.
"No, no," he said hastily. "You must be far too tired to want visitors when
you've only just come off a long journey. We'll pay our call another day."
Brian Tempest was the very antithesis of his sister--tall and somewhat
ascetic-looking, with a face to which one was almost tempted to apply the
word beautiful, it was so well-proportioned and cut with the sure fineness
of a cameo. His dark hair was sprinkled with grey at the temples, and
beneath a broad, tranquil brow looked out a pair of kindly, luminous eyes
that were neither all brown nor all grey. Later, when she knew him better,
Ann was wont to inform him that his eyes were a "heather mixture--like
tweed." Small, fine lines puckered humorously at their corners, and there
was humour, too, in the long, thin-lipped mouth.
Robin and Ann brushed aside his protest with a hearty sincerity there was
no mistaking. Whatever each of them might feel concerning Miss Caroline,
they were in complete accord in the welcome they extended to her brother.
He was no stranger to Robin. The latter had put up at the village inn
during the time occupied by Maria Coombe in "cleaning down" the Cottage and
making it habitable, and the rector had dropped in to see him in a
characteristically informal, friendly fashion on more than one occasion.
The two chatted together while Miss Caroline put Ann through a searching
catechism as to her past, present, and future mode of life, including the
age at which her parents had died, the particular kind of work she had
undertaken during the war--appearing somewhat taken aback when Ann
explained that she had driven a car, the making of shirts and mufflers
coming more within the scope of Caroline's own idea as to what was
"suitable" work for a young girl--and the length of time she had lived with
Lady Susan. The coincidence of Robin's obtaining a post in the
neighbourhood of Lady Susan's home impressed her enormously, as fate's
unexpected shufflings of the cards invariably do impress those whose
existence is passed in a very narrow groove.
"It's really most extraordinary!" she declared, scrutinising Ann much as
though she suspected her of having somehow juggled matters in order to
produce such a phenomenon. "Did you hear that, Brian? Miss Lovell has been
living with our dear Lady Susan." She spoke as if she held proprietary
rights in Lady Susan. "Isn't it extraordinary that now she and her brother
should have come to live so near White Windows?"
"I think it's a very charming happening," replied the rector, "since
Oldstone Cottage is even nearer to the rectory!"
He smiled across at Ann--a quick, sympathetic smile that seemed to
establish them on a footing of friendly intimacy at once.
"Really," went on Miss Caroline, doggedly pursuing the line of thought to
the bitter end of her commonplace mind, "it's as though it were _meant_ in
some way--that you should come to Silverquay."
"Probably it was," returned the rector simply, and Ann observed a quiet,
dreaming expression come into his eyes--a look of inner vision, tranquilly
content and confident.
"Fancy if it turns out like that!" exclaimed Miss Caroline. "It would be a
most singular thing, wouldn't it, if it was really _intended_?"
"Not at all," answered Brian composedly. "You're speaking as though you
regarded the Almighty as a thoughtless kind of person who would let things
happen, just anyhow."
"Brian!" Miss Caroline's tones shuddered with shocked reproach. Her brother
often shocked her; he seemed to think of God as simply and naturally as he
might of any other friend. She herself, in the course of her parochial work
in the village, habitually represented Him as a somewhat prying and easily
offended individual who kept a particularly sharp eye on the inhabitants of
Silverquay.
She hastily turned the conversation on to less debatable ground.
"We shall have quite a lot of fresh people in the neighbourhood," she
remarked sociably. "Mr. Coventry himself is a stranger to us all, and then
there will be a new-comer at the Priory, too."
"Mrs. Hilyard, you mean?" said Robin.
"Yes." Miss Caroline looked full of importance. "I hear she arrives to-day.
The carrier told our cook that he was ordered to meet the four-thirty train
this afternoon--to fetch a quantity of luggage."
"Is there a _Mr._ Hilyard?" asked Ann casually. She could see that Miss
Caroline was bursting with gossipy news which she was aching to impart.
"No, she's a widow, I hear, and very wealthy. The furniture that's been
coming down by rail is of most excellent quality--most excellent!"
"How do you know, Caroline?" inquired the rector, his eyes twinkling with
amusement.
"Well, _entirely_ by accident, I happened to be taking a basin of chicken
broth to old Mrs. Skinner--you know, she lives in one of the Priory
cottages--on the very day the pantechnicons were delivering at the house,
and I saw quite a number of the chairs and tables as they were being
carried in."
The twinkle in Brian's eyes grew more pronounced.
"I'm afraid you must have stood and watched the unloading process, then."
"Well, I suppose I did--just for a minute," she acknowledged, adding with
some asperity: "It would be quite fitting if you took a little keener
interest in future parishioners, Brian."
"My interest in my future parishioners is quite keen, I assure you--though
I don't know that it extends to their furniture," replied the rector,
laughing.
"Oh, well, it's nice to know that some one has taken the Priory who is in a
position to keep it up properly," persisted his sister. "Don't you agree,
Miss Lovell?"
"Of course," said Ann. "Besides"--smiling across at the rector--"as we're
as poor as church mice, it's just as well the new arrival at the Priory
should he rich--to even things up."
"I think it's all very interesting," pursued Miss Caroline, still intent on
her own train of thought. "Here's Mr. Coventry come home at last to live at
Heronsmere--a very eligible bachelor--and with this Mrs. Hilyard, a wealthy
widow, living so near by it wouldn't be at all surprising if something came
of it."
The rector jumped up, laughing good-humouredly.
"Caroline! Caroline! I must really take you home after that, or Miss Lovell
will think Silverquay is a veritable hot-bed of gossip. Coventry hasn't
been in the neighbourhood a month, poor man, and here you are trying to tie
him up with a lady who doesn't even arrive until this afternoon!"
"Besides," suggested Robin, smiling broadly, "she may be a really
disconsolate widow, you know."
Miss Caroline shook her head.
"I don't think so," she answered obstinately. "The furniture didn't look
like it. One of the packages was a little torn, and I caught sight of the
curtains inside. They were rose colour."
"That was really quite bright of Miss Caroline," observed Ann with some
amusement, when the rector and his sister had started for home. "Only she
didn't know it!"