Kitabı oku: «By Birth a Lady», sayfa 7
Volume One – Chapter Fifteen.
Charley’s Fête
In spite of her annoyance, Laura’s eyes sparkled when they reached the Court; for Sir Philip hurried to the carriage, welcoming the party most warmly, and, handing her out, he led her himself to the beautiful little kiosk, and then took her from place to place, according to her attentions that made more than one match-making mamma with marriageable daughters look meaningly at the same daughters, and then think of Charley Vining with a sigh.
But if Laura was in high glee, so was not Max, who had to stand by while Charley carried off Ella Bedford, Nelly laughingly fastening upon his other arm.
“A rude coarse beast, bai Jove!” muttered Max elegantly, as he tried vainly to get the little button of his glove secured. “Let him have a fall again, and see if I’ll go to his help!”
“I shall come with you if I may,” said Nelly demurely.
“To be sure!” laughed Charley, whose heart throbbed with pleasure as he felt – nay, hardly felt – the light pressure of the grey glove upon his arm. “Miss Bedford won’t mind, I hope. Do you know, Miss Bedford, I’m rather glad you are with us? I’m almost afraid Nelly means some inroad upon my purse.”
“No, I don’t,” said Nelly, “so don’t be afraid;” and then she walked very demurely by their side, Charley encouraging her to stay upon observing Ella’s constraint and troubled looks.
“She’d be off like a frightened pigeon – dove, I mean!” muttered Charley, as he looked down at the almost painful face beside him. But a little quiet conversation upon current topics seemed to set her more at ease, and, after a while, Hugh Lingon approaching, Charley Vining whispered, loudly enough, though, for Nelly to hear:
“Now I’m going, Miss Bedford, for here comes Nelly’s intended. I hope you will play the chaperone most stringently.”
Nelly rewarded him with a sharp pinch as he left them, Hugh Lingon taking his place; and Ella, whose heart beat almost painfully, asking herself the reason why.
But Charley Vining had laid his plans that day, and he felt he must proceed with caution. So hurrying himself, he acted the part of host with admirable tact, picking out the ladies who seemed neglected, forming sets for croquet, handing refreshments, or escorting little parties to the lake-like river for boating; distributing himself, as it were, throughout the grounds, and at last interrupting a tête-à-tête between Laura and Hugh Lingon, who had soon forsaken the ladies left in his charge.
Laura commenced a little minauderie, professing to be unable to leave Mr Lingon; but she gave up directly she saw Charley’s laugh, for she knew that it would be – nay, was – seen through. She knew Charley Vining to be different from most men of her acquaintance; and accepting his offer, she gladly took his arm, making the match-making mammas to whisper, as the handsome couple passed through the grounds, “There, didn’t I tell you so?” and then to gossip about how they had had their suspicions concerning the purpose of the fête.
But Laura’s pleasure was but short-lived; for though Charley was pleasant, gay, and chatty, he was nothing more, and though he carefully avoided referring to the croquet-party, she felt that he was not as she could wish.
“He’ll go back to her as soon as, with any decency, he can,” she thought; and her teeth were set, and her fingers clenched, pressing the nails almost through her gloves, as she forced back a sigh.
But she soon cheered up, for she told herself it was not for long, and determined to try if gentleness would gain the day; she listened to all her companion said, striving the while, without being obtrusive, to obliterate her past words of anger.
Laura was wrong; for it was not for a considerable time, and until he had played cavalier to many a lady – winning the thanks and smiles of Sir Philip, who was delighted at his son’s efforts – that he sought once more Ella Bedford, followed by Sir Philip’s eyes; the old gentleman gazing uneasily after him as he went up and offered his arm, which was reluctantly taken.
“I’m going now,” said Nelly, who had kept with her guard the whole time; “I want something to eat. I declare, Charley Vining, I’ve only had one thin slice of butter spread with bread-crumbs, and a cup of tea;” and before a word could be said, she had darted off.
Sir Philip’s were not the only eyes that followed Charley Vining to where sat Ella Bedford; for as Max Bray followed him at a distance, as if by accident Laura did the same, and brother and sister gave genuine starts as they encountered at the union of two alleys.
“Grows quite romantic, bai Jove!” sneered Max; but he relapsed into an uncomfortable look on seeing the penetrating gaze directed at him by his sister.
“Let me take your arm,” she said coldly; and then, as the shades of evening were fast falling, they walked slowly on together, towards a part of the grounds now apparently deserted.
Meanwhile Charley Vining had led Ella across the lawn, pressing her to partake of some refreshment, but in vain; and at last, in spite of herself, she found that she was alone with him, in a secluded part of the grounds.
“There is a seat here,” said Charley. “Shall we rest for a few minutes?”
“It would hardly be advisable,” was the quiet reply; “the evening is damp.” And then for a few moments there was a pause, as they still walked slowly on, Charley with his heart beating heavily, and Ella eager to return to the throng upon the lawn – a throng that the afternoon through she had avoided – and hardly liking to speak, lest she might betray her agitation, and that she looked upon this otherwise than as an ordinary attention of host to one of his guests.
For Ella was not blind: her woman’s instinct had whispered to her respecting the many attentions pressed upon her, and she trembled as she recalled the night when the cross was returned; for her heart told her that such things must not be – that she must be cold and cautious, guarding and steeling herself against tender emotions, for she was but the poor paid governess, and this man, whose arm she lightly touched, was almost engaged to Laura Bray.
But the silence was broken at length by Charley, who spoke deeply, as he stopped short by a standard covered with pale white roses, whose perfume seemed shed around upon the soft night air.
“Miss Bedford,” he said, “I have been in pain, almost in agony, for many days past; and till I found that I had been wronging you, it seemed to me that life was going to be unbearable.”
“Pain! – wronging me!” exclaimed Ella.
“Yes,” he said; “but hear me out. I am no polished speaker, Miss Bedford – only a simple, blunt, and I hope honest and truthful man. A week or two since I believed that you favoured the suit of Max Bray: to-night I will not insult you with questions, but tell you honestly I do not believe that to be the case; and when the conviction flashed upon me that I was wrong, I tell you frankly my heart leaped with joy. You may ask why: I will tell you.”
“Mr Vining,” exclaimed Ella, “this must not be; you forget yourself, your position – you forget me when you talk so. Pray lead me back.”
“You speak as if my words pained you, Miss Bedford,” said Charley huskily. “Pray forgive me if they do. Nay, but a few minutes longer.”
He caught one hand in his, and as she glanced for an instant in his direction, the rising moon gleaming through the trees lit up his handsome earnest face, photographing it, as it were, upon her brain; for to her dying day she never forgot that look – that countenance so imploringly turned upon her.
“Miss Bedford – Ella,” he whispered, “I love you tenderly and devotedly! This is no light declaration: till I saw you, woman never occupied my thoughts. You see by my brusque ways, my bluntness, that I have been no dallier in drawing-rooms, no holder of lady’s silk. Till now, my loves have been in the stables, kennels, fields. Blunt language this – uncomplimentary perhaps; but I am no courtier. I speak as I feel, and I tell you that to win your love in return would be to make me a happy man.”
“Mr Vining,” exclaimed Ella, vainly trying to release her hand, “lead me back, pray!”
“Nay,” said Charley, with sadness in his tones, “I will not force you to listen to me;” and he released her hand. “I was hopeful that you would have listened to my suit.”
“Indeed – indeed,” said Ella, “I cannot, Mr Vining: it can never be. You forget – position – me!”
She could say no more – her words seemed to stifle her; and had she continued speaking, she felt that she would have burst into tears.
“I forget nothing,” said Charley, almost sternly. “How can I forget? How can I ever forget? But surely,” he said, once more catching her hand in his – “surely you cannot with that sweet gentle face be cruel, and love to torture one who has spoken simply the truth – laid bare to you his feelings! You believe what I say?”
“Yes, yes!” almost sobbed Ella. “But indeed – indeed it can never be. Do not think me either harsh or cruel, for I mean it not.”
“What am I to think then?” said Charley bitterly. “Is it that you reject me utterly, or am I so poor a wooer that you would have me on my knees, protesting, swearing? No; I wrong you again: it is not that,” he exclaimed passionately. “Look here, Ella” – he plucked one of the white roses, tearing his hand as he did so, the blood appearing in a long mark across the back – “emblematic,” he said, smiling sadly, “of my love. You see it has its smarts and pains. You refused me so slight a gift once, but take this; and though I am a man I can freely say that my love for you is as pure and spotless as that simple flower. You will not refuse that?”
He could see the tears in her eyes, and that her face was drawn as if with pain; but one trembling hand was extended to take the flower; then, before he could recover from his surprise, she had turned from him and fled; when, with almost a groan, he threw himself upon the garden-seat, remaining motionless for a few moments, and then rising to hurry back to the marquee.
Volume One – Chapter Sixteen.
The Echoes of Charley’s Declaration
Two minutes had scarcely elapsed before there was the faint rustling of a lady’s dress and the creaking of a boot, and then two pale faces – those of brother and sister – appeared from a neighbouring clump of evergreens, gazed cautiously about for a few moments, and then moved away in another direction; the moon just beginning to cast their shadows upon the dewy lawn upon whose turf they walked, perhaps because it hushed their footsteps.
They had hardly disappeared before there was another faint rustling, and, eagerly peering about, Nelly Bray appeared, her girlish face looking half merry, half anxious, in the moonlit glade.
“A nasty, disagreeable, foxy pair of old sneaks!” she exclaimed – “to go peeping and watching about like that, and all because they were as jealous as – as jealous as – well, there, I don’t know what. I know I was watching too, but I wouldn’t have done so for a moment, if it hadn’t been to see what they were going to do. I wouldn’t have been so mean and contemptible – that I wouldn’t! But O, wasn’t it grand!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands. “Ah, don’t I wish I was like Miss Bedford, to have such a nice boy as Charley Vining to fall in love with me and tell me of it, and then for me to reject him like that! I don’t believe she meant it, though, that I don’t. She couldn’t! Nobody could resist Charley Vining: he’s ever so much nicer than Hugh Lingon, and I’d run away with him to-morrow, if he asked me – see if I wouldn’t! But there ain’t no fear of that. I knew he was in love with her – I was sure of it. And didn’t he speak nicely! Just as if he felt every word he said, and meant it all – and he does, too, I know; for he’s a regular trump, Charley is, and I shall say so again, as there’s no one to hear me – he’s a regular trump, that he is; and I don’t care what any one says. Wouldn’t it be nice to be Miss Bedford’s bridesmaid! I should wear – Here’s somebody coming!”
Nelly darted off, reaching the door just as leave-takings were in vogue; Sir Philip and Charley handing the Bray family to the waiting carriages; but in spite of then efforts, there was an appearance of constraint visible.
“Why, here’s the little rover!” exclaimed Charley, as Nelly appeared. “Where have you been?”
“Looking after and helping my friends, as a rover should, Mr Croquet-player!” exclaimed Nelly pertly, as she looked Charley full in the face; while, as he was helping her on with a shawl, she found means to make him start by saying:
“Look out! Max and Laura were listening!”
The next moment the carriage had driven off, leaving Charley standing motionless, and thinking of the pale-faced girl who had leaned so lightly upon his arm as he handed her to the carriage, and wondering what would follow.
“Charley, my dear boy, the Miss Lingons!”
So spoke Sir Philip, rousing the young man from his abstraction, when he hastened to make up for his want of courtesy as guest after guest departed, till the last carriage had ground the gravel of the drive, for the fête was at an end. But as Sir Philip sat alone in his library, thoughtful and fatigued, it seemed to him that the affair had not been so successful as he could have wished; and that night – ay, and for many nights to come – he was haunted by a vision of a fair-haired girl, with soft grey eyes which seemed to ask the protection of all on whom they rested; and somehow Sir Philip Vining sighed, for he felt troubled, and that matters were not going as he had intended.
Meanwhile the Brays’ wagonette rolled on till it reached the Elms. Hardly a word had been spoken on the return journey; for Mr Bray was hungry, Mrs Bray cross, and Max and his sister thoughtful, as was Ella Bedford. Nelly had spoken twice, but only to be snubbed into silence; and it was with a feeling of relief shared by all, that they descended and entered the house.
Mrs Bray and her lord directly took chamber candlesticks, Mr Bray whispering something to the butler respecting a tray and dressing-room. Ella hurried away with her charges, while Max opened the drawing-room door and motioned to his sister to enter; but she took no heed of his sign, as, with angry glances, she followed Ella till she had disappeared.
“Come here,” said Max. “I want you.”
“I’m tired,” said Laura. “You must keep it till the morning.”
“I tell you I want you now!” he exclaimed almost savagely, the man’s real nature flashing out as he cast the thin veil of society habit aside, and spoke eagerly.
“Then I shall not come,” said Laura, turning away.
“If you dare to say a word about all this, I’ll never forgive you!” he whispered.
“I can live without Mr Max Bray’s forgiveness,” said Laura tauntingly.
“Confound you, come down!” he exclaimed, as Laura ascended the stairs. “I will not have her spoken to about it unless I speak.”
“Good-night, Max,” was the cool reply; and he saw her pass through the swing door at the end of Mr Bray’s picture-gallery; while foaming and apparently enraged, he made a bound up a few stairs, but only to descend again, enter the drawing-room, and close the door.
The door had hardly closed before Laura appeared again, without a chamber candlestick, to lean over the balustrade eager and listening as she peered down into the hall. But there was not a sound to be heard; and hurrying back along the gallery, she stopped at Ella’s door, and then, without knocking, turned the handle and entered.
Volume One – Chapter Seventeen.
A Vial of Wrath
“And, pray, what are you doing here?” exclaimed Laura Bray, as she saw the tall slim form of her sister Nelly standing between her and the object of her dislike.
“Talking to Miss Bedford, if you must know, my dear sister,” said Nelly pertly; but the next moment she encountered a glance from Ella, in obedience to which she was instantly silent; and, crossing over, she kissed the pale girl lovingly, and said, “Good-night.”
But all this was not lost upon Laura, who bit her lips till Nelly had half hesitatingly quitted the room.
“What sweet obedience!” she then said sarcastically. “Really, Miss Bedford, you must give me some lessons in the art of winning people’s affections. I have no doubt that papa will satisfy you if there is any extra charge.”
Ella did not speak; but her gentle look might have disarmed animosity, as she turned her soft eyes almost appealingly towards her irate visitor. She was in some degree, though, prepared for what was coming, for Nelly had lingered behind to place her on her guard; and as she stood facing Laura she did not shrink, neither did she make answer to the taunts conveyed in those bitter words.
“I trust that you have enjoyed a pleasant evening, Miss Bedford,” continued Laura, who seemed to be working herself up, and gathering together the battalions of her wrath, ready for the storm she meant to thunder upon the defenceless head before her. But still there was no reply in words – nothing but the calm pleading gaze from the soft grey eyes.
“Can we make arrangements for you to be introduced to some other family, where you can carry on your intrigues?”
Still no answer – only a pitiful, almost imploring look that ought to have disarmed the most wrathful. But at this moment Ella involuntarily raised a white rose, which till then had remained concealed, as her hand hung down amidst the soft folds of her dress; and no sooner did Laura catch sight of the blossom than, interpreting the act to be one of insolent triumph, she threw herself upon the shrinking girl, tore the flower from her hand, and flung it upon the floor, where she crushed it beneath her foot as she stamped upon it furiously.
“How dare you!” she almost shrieked, in tones that bade fair some day to rival those of Mamma Bray. “Such cowardly – such insolent acts! To dare to insult me after practising your low cunning to-day, laying your snares for my poor unworldly brother, and then setting other traps – to – to – inveigle – to entrap – There, don’t look at me with that triumphant leer! You shall be turned out of this house, into which you have gained entrance by false pretences, so as to act the part of a scheming adventuress!”
For a few moments Laura seemed as if she would strike the object of her resentment, so fierce was the burst of passion that came pouring forth – the unlucky act having roused every bitter and angry feeling in her breast: disappointed love, ambition, hatred – all were mingled into a poison that was like venom to her barbed and stinging words, as she stooped even to abusing the innocent cause of her dislike.
At length Ella raised her hands, and spoke deprecatingly; but each appeal only seemed to rouse Laura to fresh outbursts of violence, so that at last the bitter taunts and revilings were suffered in silence, the angry woman’s voice rising louder with her victim’s patience, till, alarmed by her daughter’s angry, hysterical cries, Mrs Bray hurried into the room.
“What is the meaning of all this?” she shrieked. “Laura! – Miss Bedford! Are you both mad?”
Ella was about to speak, but Laura fiercely interrupted her.
“Speak a word if you dare!” she said. “I will not have anything said! Such insolence is insupportable.”
“But what has Miss Bedford been doing?” shrieked Mrs Bray. “You are alarming the whole house. What does it mean?”
“Nothing. Let it rest,” cried Laura, cooling down rapidly, but with face a-flame; for she could not bear her mother to be a witness to her humiliation, there being, based on Laura’s slight exaggerations of one or two attentions, a full belief in the Bray family that even if the question had not been put by Charley Vining, matters had so far progressed that he was sure to be her husband: hence her objection to a word being uttered; and, shrinking back, Ella stood with bended head, while a passage of arms took place between mother and daughter, Mrs Bray’s curiosity increasing with Laura’s reticence.
Finding though, at last, that nothing was to be gained, Mrs Bray followed Laura from the room; and Ella, trembling with excitement and the agitation of many painful hours, was about to welcome the solitude hers at last, when once more the door opened, and, pale and wild-looking, so that she felt to pity her, Laura again appeared, closing the door carefully behind her, and then standing to gaze thoughtfully in Ella’s face.
She had come to threaten – to try and enforce silence; but her voice was husky; the fierce passion which had before sustained her had now passed away, and the weak woman, cut to the heart by disappointment, was once more asserting herself.
For quite five minutes she stood with heaving breast, trying to speak, but the words would not come; and at last, dreading to let the woman she hated and despised, one whom she looked upon as full of deceit and guile, gaze upon and triumph in her tears, Laura turned and fled from the room; and once more Ella was alone.
