Two days before Eunice was expected at Yew Hedge, Peg was summoned from
the garden to receive a mysterious visitor, and stared in bewilderment
to see Rosalind herself awaiting in the drawing-room. No one else was
present, and in the wery moment of entering Peggy realised that the news
which she had expected so long was an accomplished fact. There was
suppressed excitement in Rosalind's manner, an embarrassment in her
glance, which told their own tale; and the kiss of greeting had hardly
been exchanged before she was stammering out:
"Mariquita, I came--I wanted to tell you myself--I thought you ought to
know--"
"That you are engaged to Lord Everscourt!" said Peggy, with one last
pang for the memory of Arthur's loss, but keeping her hand still linked
in Rosalind's, in remembrance of her promise to that dear brother. "I
have been expecting it, Rosalind, and am not at all surprised. I told
you, you remember, that it was bound to happen. I congratulate you, and
wish you every happiness."
"Thank you," said Rosalind meekly; so meekly that the other raised her
eyes in astonishment, to see whether the expression emphasised or
contradicted so unusual a tone. The lovely face looked down into hers,
wistful and quivering, and the blue eyes softened with tears. "Oh, kiss
me, Peggy!" she cried. "Be kind to me! I have no sister of my own, and
mother is away, and I came to you first of all! I made an excuse and
came down for two nights, just to have a talk with you and to ask you to
help me!"
"Help you!" echoed Peggy blankly. She was alternately amazed and
embarrassed by the manner in which Rosalind leant upon her in every
difficulty; but now, as ever, the spell of the winsome presence proved
irresistibly softening, and it was in a far gentler tone that she
continued. "If everything is settled, in what way do you want my help,
Rosalind?"
Rosalind sat down upon the sofa, still retaining her grip of her
friend's hand, and drawing her down on the seat by her own. She stared
aimlessly up and down the room, opening her lips as if about to speak,
and closing them again in despair of expressing her thoughts, until
suddenly the words came out in a breathless rush.
"I pwomised to marry him, and I mean to keep my word, but it is harder
than I thought. It would be easier if he were diffewent, but he loves
me so much, and believes in me, and thinks I must care for him too. If
he knew I had taken him for his position, he would despise me, and I
don't want him to do that. I have given up so much, and if he turned
against me too, what should I have left? It fwightens me to think of
it, and I came away to consider what I had better do, and to talk to you
and ask your advice." She looked at Peggy appealingly, and added in a
breathless whisper, "I want to do what is right, you know! I want to
treat him well! You think I am selfish and worldly, Peggy, but I am not
all bad. If I mawwy him, I will do my best. I want him to be fond of
me, not to grow tired or dissatisfied. That would make me wetched."
Peggy smiled pitifully. It was so like Rosalind to be distressed at the
idea of losing a love she could not return, and to show a pathetic
eagerness to make a wrong step right. Her own Spartan judgment could
never overlook the sin of preferring money before love, but she realised
that it was too late in the day to preach this doctrine, and cast about
in her mind for more practical advice.
"If you try to make him happy, that will be your best plan, Rosalind.
If I were in your place, I'd try to forget about the past, and think
only of the future. I'd find out the very best in him, and be proud of
it, and study his tastes, so that I might be able to talk about the
things he liked best, and be a real companion to him, and I'd be
grateful to him for his love, and try to love him in return. Every one
says he is a good fellow and devoted to you, so it ought not to be
difficult."
"No-o!" echoed Rosalind doubtfully. "Only if you are going to love
people, you genewally do it without twying, and if you don't love them,
little things aggwavate you, and rub you the wong way, which you would
never notice in people you really cared for! Everscourt is a good
fellow, but he worries me to distwaction sometimes, and I am so afraid
of getting cwoss. I don't want him to think me bad-tempered. I think
your plan is very good, Peggy, and I will try to follow it. I ought to
succeed, for you see how anxious I am to do what is right! You can't
call me selfish this time, can you, for I am thinking only of his
happiness!"
Peggy lifted her brows with arch reproach. "Oh, Rosalind, no! You
think you are, but you are really distressed about your own position, in
case he may ever think you any less charming and angelic than he does at
this moment. It's your own vanity that concerns you, far more than his
happiness."
"You have no business to say anything of the kind. If he is
disappointed in me, won't that make him miserable, and if I twy to
please him, is not that making him happy in the best way possible? But
you always think the worst of me, Peggy Saville, and put a wong
constwuction on what I do. When I pay you the compliment of coming to
you for help, I do think you might be a little kinder and more
sympathetic."
"It would be easier to say a lot of polite things that I didn't wean.
It is the best proof that I do care for your happiness that I have the
courage to be disagreeable. You know, Rosalind, the plain truth is that
you want to act a part to gain admiration and applause, but it's absurd
to think you can go on doing that all your life, and to a person who is
with you on every occasion. It must be _real_, not pretence, if it is
to succeed, so try not to think so much about his opinion of you, and
more about how you can help him, and be the sort of wife he wants. And
if he worries you in any little way, tell him so quietly, and don't let
it get into a habit. I'm talking as if I were seventy-seven at the very
least, and had been married a dozen times over, but you know how easy it
is to preach to other people and how clearly one can see their duty! As
a matter of fact, I know nothing whatever about it, but one can argue
with so much more freedom when one is not hampered with facts! I am
sorry if I have seemed unkind, but--"
"No, no! I know what you mean. I think you are vewy kind to me, Peggy,
considering--considering everything!" murmured Rosalind softly. She sat
silent for a moment, gathering courage to ask another question which was
fluttering to her lips.
"Will--will--do you think Arthur will be _vewy_ miserable?"
Peggy's little form stiffened at that into a poker of wounded dignity.
She felt it in the worst possible taste of Rosalind to have introduced
her brother's name into the conversation, and was in arms at once at the
tone of commiseration.
"My brother and I had a talk on the subject when I was in town," she
replied coldly, "and he entirely agreed with me that it was the best
thing for you. He will be in no wise surprised, but only relieved that
the arrangement is completed. He is very well and in good spirits, and
is coming down next week with Eunice Rollo to pay us a visit, when we
have planned a succession of amusements."
"Oh," remarked Rosalind shortly. "Is he, indeed!" She tried to say she
was rejoiced to hear it, but her lips refused to form the lie, for
Peggy's words had been so many daggers in her heart. Arthur would be
"relieved," he was in "good spirits," he was coming down to enjoy
himself in the country in company with. Eunice Rollo! Could anything
be more wounding to the vanity which made her treasure the idea of
broken-hearted grief? Once more Rosalind called Peggy cruel in her
heart, and Peggy mentally justified her harshness by reminding herself
that the knowledge of Arthur's fortitude would do more towards turning
Rosalind's heart toward her _fiance_ than a volume of moral reflections.
Some slave to worship and adore, she _must_ possess, and if she could
no longer think of Arthur in that position, so much the more chance that
she would appreciate his successor. No more was said on the subject,
and in a few minutes Rosalind rose to say good-bye and take her way to
the vicarage.
"For I must congwatulate Esther!" she said, laughing.
"That is to say, if I can contwive to do it without laughing outwight.
It is _too_ widiculous to think of Esther being mawwied! She is a born
old maid, and I hear he is quite old, nearly forty, with grey hair and
spectacles and a stoop to his back. He teaches, doesn't he, or lectures
or something, and I suppose he is as poor as a church mouse. What in
the world induced the silly girl to accept him?"
"Look in her face and see!" said Peggy shortly. "And don't waste your
pity, Rosalind, for it is not required. Professor Reid is as big a man
in his own way as Lord Everscourt himself; and from a worldly point of
view Esther is making a good match. That, however, is not what her face
will tell you. They are going to be married in October, and Mellicent
and I are to be bridesmaids."
"And drive to church in a village fly, and come back to a scwamble meal
in the dining-woom! Pwesents laid out on the schoolwoom table, and all
the pawishioners cwowding together in the dwawingwoom. I can't just
imagine a vicarage marriage, and how you have the courage to face it,
Mawiquita, I weally can't think!" cried Rosalind, in her most society
drawl. "You must be _my_ bwidesmaid, dear, and I'll pwomise you a
charming gown and a real good time into the bargain. I'm determined it
shall be the smartest affair of the season!"
Peggy murmured a few non-committal words, and Rosalind floated away,
restored to complacency by the contrast between the prospect of her own
wedding and that of poor old Esther. They would indeed be different
occasions; and so thought Peggy also, as she stood watching her friend
depart, contrasting her lovely restless face with Esther's radiant calm,
and the gloomy town residence of Lord Darcy with the breezy country
vicarage.
The next morning at breakfast Colonel Saville discussed the coming
weddings from an outsider's point of view.
"Two presents!" he groaned. "That's what it means to me, and pretty
good ones too, I suppose, for everything has grown to such a pitch of
extravagance in these days that one is expected to come down handsomely.
When we were married we thought ourselves rich with twenty or thirty
offerings, but now they are reckoned by hundreds, and the happy
recipients have to employ detectives to guard their treasures. Esther,
I suppose, will be content with a piece of silver, but we shall have to
launch out for once, and give Miss Darcy something worthy of her
position."
"I think, dear, if we launch out at all it must be for Esther, not
Rosalind. If I had my way, I should give some pretty trifle to
Rosalind, who will be overdone with presents, and spend all we can spare
on something really handsome for Esther," said his wife gently; and
Peggy cried, "Hear! Hear!" and banged such uproarious applause with her
heels that the colonel felt himself hopelessly out-voted.
"If you had your way, indeed!" he grumbled, pushing his chair back from
the table and preparing to leave the room. "When do you _not_ get your
way, I'd like to know? It's a case of serving two masters with a
vengeance, when a man has a wife and a grown-up daughter! Settle it to
please yourselves, and don't take any notice of me. I'm going out
shooting, and won't be home until tea-time, so you will have plenty of
time to talk it over in peace and quietness!"
Peggy ran after him with a little skip, slipped her hand through his
arm, and rubbed her face coaxingly against the shoulder of his rough
tweed suit.
"He is just a down-trodden old dear, isn't he? So mild and obedient--a
perfectly nonentity in his own house! No one trembles before him! He
never lays down the law as if he were the Tsar of All the Russias, or
twenty German Emperors rolled into one! Now does that really mean that
you are to be out for lunch? I'm housekeeper, you know, and it makes a
difference to my arrangement. You won't say you are going to be out,
then appear suddenly at the last moment?"
"Not I! I shall be miles away, and cannot spare the time to come so
far; but for that matter I cannot see why it should make any difference.
One person more or less can be of no importance."
"He is though, very much indeed, when it happens to be the head of the
family!" remarked Peggy sagely to her mother when they were left alone,
"because I don't mind confessing to you, dear, that, owing to the
agitation consequent on my interview with the fair Rosalind, I entirely
omitted to post my order for the butcher! If father had been at home, I
should have been compelled to drive over in the heat and dust; but as it
is, I can send a card by the early post, and the things will be here for
dinner. You don't object, I know, for you have a mind above trifles,
and I can provide quite a nice little meal for two."
"Oh, I don't mind for myself, but do be careful to send your orders
regularly, darling!" pleaded her mother earnestly. "We are so entirely
in the country that a day might come when you were not able to get
supplies at the last moment, and _then_ what would you do? Imagine how
awkward it might be!"
"I'd rather not, if you don't mind! It would be quite bad enough if it
really happened. We won't anticipate evil, but have a lazy morning
together in the garden, browsing in deck-chairs, and eating fruit at
frequent intervals. It is so lovely to sit under one's own trees, in
one's own garden, with one's very own mummie by one's side. Girls who
have lived in England all their lives can never appreciate having home
and parents at the same time, in the same way in which I do. It seems
almost too good to be true, to be really settled down together!"
"Oh, thank God, we never were really separated, Peg! One of the heart-
breaking things of a life abroad is that parents and children so often
grow up practical strangers to each other; but you and I were always
together at heart, and your dear letters were so transparent that I
seemed to read all that was in your mind. It was partly Mrs Asplin's
doing too--dear good woman, for she gave you the care and mothering
which you needed to develop your character, yet never tried to take my
place. Yes, indeed, we must do all we can for Esther! Find out what
she would like, dear, and we will go to town together and buy the best
of its kind. I can never do enough for Mrs Asplin's children."
There was so much to talk about, so much to discuss, that when lunch-
time approached both mother and daughter were surprised to find how
quickly the morning had passed. It was so cool and breezy sitting under
the shade of the trees that they were both unwilling to return to the
house, and at Peggy's suggestion orders were given that lunch should be
served where they sat.
"It will do me more credit; for what would appear a paltry provision
spread out on the big dining-room table, will look quite sylvan and
luxurious against this flowery background," she said brightly, and in
the very moment of speaking her jaw dropped, and her eyes grew blank and
fixed, as if beholding a vision too terrible to be real.
Round the corner or the house, one--two--three masculine forms were
coming into view; three men in Norfolk jackets, shooting breeches and
deer-stalker caps; dusty and dishevelled, yet with that indefinable air
of relaxation which spoke of rest well-earned. They were no chance
visitors, they had come to stay, to stay to be fed! Every confident
step proved as much, every smile of assured welcome. Peggy's groan of
despair aroused her mother's attention, she turned and gave an echoing
exclamation.
"Your father! Back after all--and two men with him. Mr Cathcart,
and--yes! Hector Darcy himself. I did not know he had come down. My
dear child, what _shall_ we do?"
But Peggy was speechless, stricken for once beyond power of repartee at
the thought of the predicament which her carelessness had brought about.
Her own humiliation and cook's disgust were as nothing, compared with
the thought of her father's anger at the violation of his hospitable
instincts. She could not retain even the semblance of composure, and
the nervous, incoherent greeting which she accorded to the strangers was
strangely in contrast with her usual self-possession.
Hector Darcy looked down into the flushed little face, and listened to
the faltering words, his own heavy features lighting with pleasure. It
was the first time he had seen Peggy lose her self-possession, and if he
connected the fact with his own sudden appearance, it was no more than
was to be expected from masculine vanity. He told himself that he had
never seen her more dainty and pretty than she looked now, in her white
dress, with the touch of pink, matching the colour on her cheeks, and
Colonel Saville thought the same, and cast a glance of pride upon her as
he cried:
"Back again, you see! I met Cathcart and Hector, as they meant to pay
you a call in any case, I thought I had better bring them home with me
to lunch. I told them I was not expected, but that my clever little
housekeeper would be able to give us a meal. Anything you have, my
dear; but be quick about it! We don't care what we have, but we want it
at once. Waiting is the one thing we cannot stand."
That was the way in which he invariably spoke; but, alas, never were
words more falsely uttered. The "clever little housekeeper" realised
how difficult would be the task of giving satisfaction, and mentally
rent her garments in despair.
"I will do the best I can, but you must allow me a little grace!" she
said, twisting her features into a smile. "Mother and I were going to
have our lunch out here, so it will take some time to have the table
laid. You do not care for a picnic arrangement?"
"No, no, no! Detest out-of-door meals. Nothing but flies and
discomfort," declared the colonel roundly; and Peggy walked away towards
the house, profoundly wishing that she could make her escape altogether,
and scour the country until the dreaded hour was passed.
Cook was furious, as any right-minded cook would, under such
circumstances, be.
"How," she demanded, "could she be expected to make anything out of
nothing? She knew her work as well as most, and no one couldn't say but
what she made the best of materials, but she wasn't a magician, nor yet
a conjurer, and didn't set up to be, and therefore could not be expected
to cook a dinner when there was no dinner to cook. It was enough to
wear a body out, all these upsets and bothers, and she was sick of it.
It was no good living in a place where you were blamed for what was not
your fault. She did her best, and saints could do no more!" So on and
so on, while Peggy stood by, sighing like a furnace, and feeling it a
just punishment for her sins that she should be condemned to listen
without excuses. Meekness, however, is sometimes a more powerful weapon
than severity, and despite her hot temper cook adored her young
mistress, and could not long endure the sight of the disconsolate face.
The angry words died away into subdued murmurings, she rolled up her
sleeves, and announced herself ready to obey orders. "For no one should
say as she hadn't done her duty by any house, as long as she lived in
it."
"It's more than can be said of me, cook, I'm afraid; but help me out of
this scrape like a good soul, and I'll be a reformed character for the
rest of my life! This will be a lesson which I shall never forget!"
declared Peggy honestly; but she did not suspect in how serious a sense
her words would become true. The adventures of that morning were not
yet over, and the consequences therefrom were more lasting than she
could anticipate.