Kitabı oku: «A Plucky Girl», sayfa 2
CHAPTER III
MY SCHEME
I arrived home early in the afternoon.
"Dear mother," I said, "I had an interview with the Duchess of Wilmot and with Lady Thesiger. After seeing them both, I had not the heart to go on to any more of our friends. I will describe my interview presently, but I must talk on another matter now. Our undertaking will be greatly prospered if our friends will stick to us and help us a little. If, on the other hand, we are not to depend on them, the sooner we know it the better."
"What do you mean?" asked my mother.
"Well, of course, mother dear, we will have our boarding-house. I have thought of the exact sort of house we want. It must be very large and very roomy, and the landlord must be willing to make certain improvements which I will suggest to him. Our boarding-house will be a sort of Utopia in its way, and people who come there will want to come again. We will charge good prices, but we will make our guests very comfortable."
Mother clasped my hand.
"Oh, my dear, dear child," she said. "How little you know about what you are talking. We shall have an empty house; no one will come to us. Neither you nor I have the faintest idea how to manage. We shall not only lose all the money we have, but we shall be up to our ears in debt. I do wish, Westenra, you would consider that simple little cottage in the country."
"If it must come to our living within our means," I said slowly, "I have not the least doubt that the Duchess of Wilmot would allow me to live with her as a sort of companion and amanuensis, and influence would be brought to bear to get you rooms in Hampton Court; but would you consent, mother darling, would you really consent that I should eat the bread of dependence, and that you should live partly on charity?"
Mother coloured. She had a very delicate colour, and it always made her look remarkably pretty. In her heart of hearts, I really do think she was taken with the idea of Hampton Court. The ladies who lived in those suites of apartments were more or less aristocratic, they were at least all well connected, and she and they might have much in common. It was, in her opinion, rather a distinction than otherwise to live there, but I would have none of it.
"How old are you, mother?" I asked.
"Forty-three," she answered.
"Forty-three," I repeated. "Why, you are quite young, just in the prime of middle-age. What do you mean by sitting with your hands before you for the rest of your life? You are forty-three, and I am twenty-one. Do you think for a single moment that able-bodied women, like ourselves, are to do nothing in the future; for if I did go to the Duchess my post would be merely a sinecure, and you at Hampton Court would vegetate, nothing more. Mother, you will come with me, and help me? We will disregard society; if society is ashamed of us, let it be ashamed, but we must find out, and I have a scheme to propose."
"You are so full of schemes, Westenra, you quite carry me away."
Dear mother looked bewildered, but at the same time proud of me. I think she saw gleaming in my eyes, which I know were bright and dark like my father's, some of that spirit which had carried him with a forlorn hope into the thickest of the fight, and which enabled him to win the Victoria Cross. There are a great many Victoria Crosses to be secured in this world, and girls can get and wear some of them.
"Now," I said, "we need not give up this house until the autumn. The landlord will then take it off our hands, and we shall move into our Bloomsbury mansion, but as I did not quite succeed to-day in knowing exactly how we stood with our friends, I propose that next week we should give an 'At Home,' a very simple one, mother, nothing but tea and sweet cakes, and a few sandwiches, no ices, nothing expensive."
"My dear Westenra, just now, in the height of the season, would any one come?"
"Yes, they will come, I will write to all the friends I know, and they will come out of curiosity. We will invite them for this day fortnight. I don't know any special one of our friends who has an 'At Home' on the third Friday in the month. But let me get our 'At Home' book and see."
I looked it out, and after carefully examining the long list of our acquaintances, proclaimed that I thought the third Friday in the month was a tolerably free day.
"We will ask them to come at three," I said, "a little early in the afternoon, so that those who do want to go on to friends afterwards, will have plenty of time."
"But why should they come, Westenra; why this great expense and trouble, just when we are parting with them all, for if I go to Hampton Court, or the country, or to that awful boarding-house of yours, my poor child, my days in society are at an end."
"In one sense they are, mother, nevertheless, I mean to test our friends. People are very democratic in these days, and there is no saying, but that I may be more the fashion than ever; but I don't want to be the fashion, I want to get help in the task which is before me. Now, do hear me out."
Mother folded her hands in her lap. Her lips were quivering to speak, but I held her in control as it were. I stood before her making the most of my slender height, and spoke with emphasis.
"We will ask all our friends. Paul will wait on them, and Morris shall let them in, and everything will be done in the old style, for we have just the same materials we ever had to give a proper and fashionable 'At Home,' but when they are all assembled, instead of a recitation, or music, I will jump up and stand in the middle of the room, and briefly say what we mean to do. I will challenge our friends to leave us, or to stick to us."
"Westenra, are you mad? I can never, never consent to this."
"It is the very best plan, and far less troublesome than going round to everybody, and they will be slightly prepared, for the dear Duchess will have mentioned something of what I said this morning to her friends, and I know she will come. She won't mind visiting us here just once again, and Jasmine will come, and – and many other people, and we will put the thing to the test. Yes, mother, this day fortnight they shall come, and I will write the invitations to-night, and to-morrow you and I will go to Bloomsbury and look for a suitable house, for by the time they come, mother, the house will have been taken, and I hope the agreement made out, and the landlord will have been consulted, and he will make the improvements I suggest and will require. It is a big thing, mother, a great big venture for two lone women like ourselves, but we will succeed, darling, we must succeed."
"You are a rock of strength, West," she answered, half proudly, half sadly, "you are just like your father."
That night I sent out the invitations. They were ordinary notes of invitation, for on second thoughts I resolved not to prepare our many acquaintances beforehand. "Mrs. Wickham at home on such a day," nothing more.
I posted the letters and slept like a top that night, and in the morning awoke with the tingling sensation which generally comes over me when I have a great deal to do, and when there is an important and very interesting matter at stake. I used to feel like that at times when I was at school. On the day when I won the big scholarship, and was made a sort of queen of by the other girls, I had the sensation very strongly, and I felt like it also when a terrible illness which mother had a few years ago came to a crisis, and her precious life lay in the balance. Here was another crisis in my career, almost the most important which had come to me yet, and I felt the old verve and the old strong determination to conquer fate. Fate at present was against me, but surely I was a match for it: I was young, strong, clever, and I had a certain entrée into society which might or might not help me. If society turned its back on me, I could assuredly do without it. If, on the other hand, it smiled on me, success was assured in advance.
I ran downstairs to breakfast in the best of spirits. I had put on my very prettiest white dress, and a white hat trimmed with soft silk and feathers.
"Why, Westenra, dressed already?" said mother.
"Yes, and you must dress too quickly, Mummy. Oh, there is Paul. Paul, we shall want the victoria at ten o'clock."
Paul seemed accustomed to this order now. He smiled and vanished. None of our servants knew that their tenure with us was ended, that within a very short time mother and I would know the soft things of life no more. We were dragging out our last delicious days in the Land of Luxury; we were soon to enter the Land of Hard Living, the Land of Endeavour, the Land of Struggle. Might it not be a better, a more bracing life than our present one? At least it would be a more interesting life, of that I made sure, even before I plunged into its depths.
Mother ate her breakfast quite with appetite, and soon afterwards we were driving in the direction of Bloomsbury.
Jenkins, who had lived with us for years, and who had as a matter of course imbibed some of the aristocratic notions of our neighbourhood, almost turned up his nose when we told him to stop at the house of a well-known agent in Bloomsbury. He could not, like the Duchess of Wilmot, confess that he did not know where Bloomsbury was, but he evidently considered that something strange and by no means comme il faut had occurred.
Presently we reached our destination, it was only half-past ten.
"Won't you get out, mother?" I asked as I sprang to the pavement.
"Is it necessary, dear child?" replied mother.
"I think it is," I answered; "you ought to appear in this matter, I am too young to receive the respect which I really merit, but with you to help me – oh, you will do exactly what I tell you, won't you?"
"My dear girl!"
"Yes, Mummy, you will, you will."
I took her hand, and gave it a firm grip, and we went into the house-agent's together.
CHAPTER IV
THE VERDICT
The first thing I noticed when I entered the large room where Messrs Macalister & Co. carried on their business, was a young man, tall and very well set up, who stood with his back to us. He was talking earnestly to one of Macalister's clerks, and there was something about his figure which caused me to look at him attentively. His hair was of a light shade of brown, and was closely cropped to his well-shaped head, and his shoulders were very broad and square. He was dressed well, and had altogether that man-of-the-world, well bred sort of look, which is impossible to acquire by any amount of outward veneer. The man who stood with his back to us, and did not even glance round as we came into the agent's office, was beyond doubt a gentleman. I felt curiously anxious to see his face, for I was certain it must be a pleasant one, but in this particular fate did not favour me. I heard him say to the clerk in a hurried tone —
"I will come back again presently," and then he disappeared by another door, and I heard him walking rapidly away. Mother had doubtless not noticed the man at all. She was seated near a table, and when the clerk in question came up to her, seemed indisposed to speak. I gave her a silent nudge.
"We want – ahem," said my mother – she cleared her throat, "we are anxious to look at some houses."
"Fourteen to fifteen bedrooms in each," I interrupted.
"Fourteen to fifteen bedrooms," repeated mother. "How many sitting rooms, Westenra?"
"Four, five, or six," was my answer.
"Oh, you require a mansion," said the agent. "Where do you propose to look for your house, madam?"
He addressed mother with great respect. Mother again glanced at me.
"We thought somewhere north," she said; "or north-west," she added.
"W.C.," I interrupted; "Bloomsbury, we wish to settle in Bloomsbury."
"Perhaps, Westenra," said my mother, "you had better describe the house. My daughter takes a great interest in houses," she added in an apologetic tone to the clerk. The face of the clerk presented a blank appearance, he showed neither elation nor the reverse at having a young lady to deal with instead of an old lady. He began to trot out his different houses, to explain their advantages, their aristocratic positions.
"Aristocratic houses in Bloomsbury – aristocratic!" said mother, and there was a tone of almost scorn in her voice.
"I assure you it is the case, madam. Russell Square is becoming quite the fashion again, and so is" – he paused – "Would Tavistock Square suit you?" he said, glancing at me.
"I do not know," I answered. "I seem to be better acquainted with the names of Russell Square or Bloomsbury Square. After all, if we can get a large enough house it does not greatly matter, provided it is in Bloomsbury. We wish to see several houses, for we cannot decide without a large choice."
"You would not be induced, ladies, to think of a flat?" queried the agent.
Mother glanced at me; there was almost an appeal in her eyes. If I could only be induced to allow her to live in a tiny, tiny flat – she and I alone on our one hundred and fifty a year – but my eyes were bright with determination, and I said firmly —
"We wish to look at houses, we do not want a flat."
Accordingly, after a little more argument, we were supplied with orders to view, and returning to the carriage I gave brief directions to Jenkins.
During the rest of the morning we had a busy time. We went from one house to another. Most were large; some had handsome halls and wide staircases, and double doors, and other relics of past grandeur, but all were gloomy and dirty, and mother became more and more depressed, and more and more hopeless, as she entered each one in turn.
"Really, Westenra," she said, "we cannot do it. No, my darling, it is hopeless. Think of the staff of servants we should require. Do look at these stairs, it is quite worth counting them. My dear child, such a life would kill me."
But I was young and buoyant, and did not feel the stairs, and my dreams seemed to become more rosy as obstacles appeared in view. I was determined to conquer, I had made up my mind to succeed.
"Whatever happens you shall not have a tiring time," I said affectionately to my dear mother, and then I asked one of the caretakers to give her a chair, and she sat in the great wide desolate drawing-room while I ran up and down stairs, and peeped into cupboards, and looked all over the house, and calculated, as fast as my ignorant brain would allow me, the amount of furniture which would be necessary to start the mansion I had in view.
For one reason or another most of the houses on the agent's list were absolutely impossible for our purpose, but at last we came to one which seemed to be the exact thing we required. It was a corner house in a square called Graham Square, and was not so old by fifty years as the houses surrounding it. In height also it was a storey lower, but being a corner house it had a double frontage, and was in consequence very large and roomy. There were quite six or seven sitting rooms, and I think there were up to twenty bedrooms in the house, and it had a most cheerful aspect, with balconies round the drawing-room windows, and balconies to the windows of the bedrooms on the first floor. I made up my mind on the spot that the inmates of these special rooms should pay extra for the privilege of such delightful balconies. And the windows of the house were large, and when it was all re-papered and re-painted according to my modern ideas, I knew that we could secure a great deal of light in the rooms; and then besides, one whole side faced south-east, and would scarcely ever be cold in winter, whereas in summer it would be possible to render it cool by sun-blinds and other contrivances. Yes, the house would do exactly.
I ran downstairs to mother, who had by this time given up climbing those many, many stairs, and told her that I had found the exact house for our purpose.
"Seventeen Graham Square is magnificent," I said. "My dearest, darling mother, in ten years time we shall be rich women if we can only secure this splendid house for our purpose."
"We do not even know the rent," said mother.
"Oh, the rent," I cried. "I forgot about that. I will look on the order to view."
I held it in my hand and glanced at it. Just for a moment my heart stood still, for the corner house commanded a rental of two hundred and eighty pounds a year. Not at all dear for so big a mansion, but with rates and taxes and all the other etceteras it certainly was a serious item for us to meet, and would be considered even by the most sanguine people as a most risky speculation.
"Never mind, never mind," I cried eagerly, "we will secure this house; I do not think we need look at any of the others."
I crumpled up the remaining orders. Mother stepped into the carriage, and Jenkins took us back to the agent's.
"You must speak this time, Westenra," said mother. "Remember it is your scheme, darling; I am not at all accustomed to this sort of business; it will be necessary for you to take the initiative."
"Very well, mother, I will; and suppose you stay in the carriage." I uttered these last words in a coaxing tone, for the tired look on her face almost frightened me, and I did not want her to take any of the worry of what I already called to myself "Westenra's grand scheme."
I entered the office, and the man who had attended to us in the morning came forward. I told him briefly that of the many houses which we had looked over, the only one which would suit our purpose was No. 17 Graham Square.
"Ah," he answered, "quite the handsomest house on our list. Do you want it for your own occupation, Miss – Miss – "
"Wickham," I said. "Yes, of course we want the house for ourselves – that is, mother would like to rent it."
"It is a high rent," said the man, "not of course high for such a fine mansion, but higher than the rest of the houses in the Square. It contains a great many rooms." He glanced at me as though he meant to say something impertinent, but, reading an expression of determination on my face, he refrained.
"How soon can we take possession of the house?" I asked. "It would of course be papered and painted for us?"
"If you take a lease, not otherwise," answered Macalister's clerk.
"I think we would take a lease," I replied. "What is the usual length?"
"Seven, fourteen, twenty-one years," he answered glibly; "but I do not think the landlords round here would grant a longer lease than fourteen years."
"Oh, that would be quite long enough," I answered emphatically. "We should like to arrange the matter as soon as possible, we are greatly pleased with the house. Of course the drains must be carefully tested, and the entire place would have to be re-decorated from cellar to attic."
"For a fourteen years' lease I doubt not this would be done," said the man, "but of course there are several matters to be gone into. You want the house for a private residence, do you not?"
"Yes, and no," I said faintly. There was a room just beyond where I was seated, and at that moment I heard a book fall heavily to the ground. It startled me. Was any one in there listening to what we were saying?
The clerk stepped forward and quietly closed the door.
"To be frank with you," I said, "we wish to secure 17 Graham Square in order to start a boarding-house there."
The man immediately laid down the large book in which he had been taking my orders.
"That will never do," he said. "We cannot allow business of any sort to be carried on in the house, it would destroy all the rest of the property. It is far too aristocratic for anything of the kind."
"But our house would be practically private," I said; "I mean," I continued, stammering and blushing, and feeling ready to sink through the floor, "that our guests would be extremely nice and well-behaved people."
"Oh, I have no doubt whatever of that," replied the clerk, "but there is a condition in every lease in that special Square, that money is not to be earned on the premises. I presume your guests would not come to you for nothing?"
"Certainly not," I replied. I felt myself turning cold and stiff. All the angry blood of my noble ancestors stirred in my veins. I said a few more words and left the shop.
"Well?" asked mother. She was looking dreary and terribly huddled up in the carriage. It was a warm day, but I think going through those empty houses had chilled her. "Well, Westenra, have you taken No. 17?"
"Alas! no," I answered in some heat; "would you believe it, mother, the agent says the landlord will not let us the house if we make money in it."
"If we make money in it? I do not understand," answered mother. Her blue eyes were fixed on my face in an anxious way.
"Why, mother, darling, don't you know we meant to fill the house with paying guests."
"Oh, I forgot," said mother. "Home, Jenkins, as fast as possible."
Jenkins whipped up the horses, and we trotted home. Mother looked distinctly relieved.
"So you have not taken the house?" she said.
"I cannot get it," I answered. "It is more than provoking. What are we to do? I had taken such a fancy to the place."
"It did seem, for that benighted place, fairly cheerful," said my mother, "but, Westenra, there is a Providence guiding our paths. Doubtless Providence does not intend you to wreck your young life attending to lodgers."
"But, mother dear, don't you understand that we must do something for our living? It is disappointing, but we shall get over it somehow."
During the rest of that day mother refused even to discuss the boarding-house scheme. She seemed to think that because we could not get 17 Graham Square, there was no other house available for our purpose.
The next day I went out without mother. I did not visit the same agent. After finding myself in Bloomsbury I repaired to a post-office, and, taking down the big Directory, secured the names of several agents in the neighbourhood. These I visited in turn. I had dressed myself very plainly; I had travelled to my destination by 'bus. I thought that I looked exactly what I felt – a very business-like young woman. Already the gulf was widening between my old and my new life. Already I was enjoying my freedom.
Once more I was supplied with a list of houses, and once again I trotted round to see them. Alack and alas! how ugly empty houses did look; how dilapidated and dirty were the walls without the pictures and bookcases! How dreary were those countless flights of stairs, those long narrow windows, those hopelessly narrow halls; and then, the neighbourhood of these so-called mansions was so sordid. Could we by any possible means brighten such dwellings? Could we make them fit to live in? I visited them all, and finally selected three of these. Two had a clause forbidding the letting out of apartments, but the third and least desirable of the houses was to be the absolute property of the tenant to do what he liked with.
"That mansion," said the obliging agent, "you can sublet to your heart's content, madam. It is a very fine house, only one hundred and eighty pounds a year. There are ten bedrooms and five sitting-rooms. You had better close with it at once."
But this I could not do. The outlook from this house was so hideous; the only way to it was through an ugly, not to say hideous, thoroughfare. I thought of my delicate, aristocratic mother here. I thought of the friends whom I used to know visiting us in 14 Cleveland Street, and felt my castle in the clouds tumbling about my ears. What was to be done!
"I cannot decide to-day," I said; "I will let you know."
"You will lose it, madam," said the agent.
"Nevertheless, I cannot decide so soon; I must consult my mother."
"Very well, madam," said the man, in a tone of disappointment.
I left his office and returned home.
For the next few days I scarcely spoke at all about my project. I was struggling to make up my mind to the life which lay before us if we took 14 Cleveland Street. The street itself was somewhat narrow; the opposite houses seemed to bow at their neighbours; the rooms, although many, were comparatively small; and last, but by no means least, the landlord would do very little in the way of decoration.
"We can let houses of this kind over and over again," said the agent, "I don't say that Mr. Mason won't have the ceilings whitened for you, but as to papering, no; the house don't require it. It was done up for the last tenant four years ago."
"And why has the last tenant left?" I asked.
"Owing to insolvency, madam," was the quick reply, and the man darted a keen glance into my face.
Insolvency! I knew what that meant. It was another word for ruin, for bankruptcy. In all probability, if we took that detestable house, we also would have to leave on account of insolvency, for what nice, cheerful, paying guests would care to live with us there? I shook my head. Surely there must be somewhere other houses to let.
During the next few days I spent all my time searching for houses. I got quite independent, and, I think, a little roughened. I was more brusque than usual in my manners. I became quite an adept at jumping in and out of omnibuses. I could get off omnibuses quite neatly when they were going at a fairly good pace, and the conductors, I am sure, blessed me in their hearts for my agile movements. Then the agents all round Bloomsbury began to know me. Finally, one of them said, on the event of my fourth visit —
"Had you not better try further afield, Miss? There are larger, brighter, and newer houses in the neighbourhood of Highbury, for instance."
"No," I said, "we must live in Bloomsbury." Then I noticed that the man examined me all over in quite a disagreeable fashion, and then he said slowly —
"14 Cleveland Street is still to be had, Miss, but of course you understand that the landlord will want the usual references."
"References!" I cried. "He shall certainly have them if he requires them." And then I wondered vaguely, with a queer sinking at my heart, to whom of all our grand friends I might apply who would vouch for us that we would not run away without paying the rent. Altogether, I felt most uncomfortable.
The days passed. No more likely houses appeared on the horizon, and at last the afternoon came when our friends were to visit us, when I, Westenra, was to break to these fashionable society people my wild project. But I had passed through a good deal of the hardening process lately, and was not at all alarmed when the important day dawned. This was to be our very last entertainment. After that we would step down.
Mother, exquisitely dressed in dove-coloured satin, waited for her guests in the drawing-room. I was in white. I had given up wearing white when I was going about in omnibuses, but I had several charming costumes for afternoon and evening wear still quite fresh, and I donned my prettiest dress now, and looked at my face in the glass with a certain amount of solicitude. I saw before me a very tall, slender girl; my eyes were grey. I had a creamy, pale complexion, and indifferently good features. There were some people who thought me pretty, but I never did think anything of my looks myself. I gave my own image a careless nod now, and ran briskly downstairs.
"You'll be very careful what you say to our guests, Westenra?" queried mother. "This whole scheme of yours is by no means to my liking. I feel certain that the dear Duchess and Lady Thesiger will feel that they have been brought here unfairly. It would have been far franker and better to tell them that something singularly unpleasant was about to occur."
"But, dearest mother, why should it be unpleasant? and it is the fashion of the day to have sensation at any cost. Our guests will always look back on this afternoon as a sort of red letter day. Just think for yourself how startled and how interested they will be. Whether they approve, or whether they disapprove, it will be immensely interesting and out of the common, mother. O mother! think of it!" I gripped her hand tightly, and she said —
"Don't squeeze me so hard, Westenra, I shall need all my pluck."
Well, the hour came and also the guests. They arrived in goodly numbers. There was the usual fashionable array of carriages outside our door. There were footmen in livery and coachmen, and stately and magnificently groomed horses, and the guests poured up the stairs and entered our drawing rooms, and the chatter-chatter and hum-hum of ordinary society conversation began. Everything went as smoothly as it always did, and all the time my mother chatted with that courtly grace which made her look quite in the same state of life as the Duchess of Wilmot. In fact the only person in the room who looked at all nervous was the said Duchess. She had a way of glancing from me to mother, as if she was not quite sure of either of us, and once as I passed her, she stretched out her hand and touched me on my sleeve.
"Eh, Westenra?" she said.
"Yes, your Grace," I replied.
"All that silliness, darling, that you talked to me the other day, is quite knocked on the head, is it not? Oh, I am so relieved."
"You must wait and find out," was my reply. "I have something to say to every one soon, and oh please, try not to be too shocked with me."
"You are an incorrigible girl," she replied, but she shook her head quite gaily at me. She evidently had not the slightest idea of what I was going to do.
As to my special friend Jasmine Thesiger, she was as usual surrounded by an admiring group of men and women, and gave me no particular thought. I looked from one to the other of all our guests: I did not think any more were likely to come. All those who had been specially invited had arrived. My moment had come. Just then, however, just before I rose from my seat to advance into the middle of the room, I noticed coming up the stairs a tall, broad-shouldered man. He was accompanied by a friend of ours, a Mr. Walters, a well-known artist. I had never seen this man before, and yet I fancied, in a sort of intangible way, that his figure was familiar. I just glanced at him for a moment, and I do not believe he came into the room. He stood a little behind Mr. Walters, who remained in the doorway. My hour had come. I glanced at mother. Poor darling, she turned very white. I think she was almost terrified, but as to myself I felt quite cheerful, and not in the least alarmed.
