Kitabı oku: «Girls of the True Blue», sayfa 10

CHAPTER XX. – THE ORDERLY-BOOK

The children returned to the house only just in time to dress for late dinner, for while in the country Mrs. Richmond had the four young people to dine with her. As they walked up through the shrubbery the one topic of conversation was the guests who had just picnicked with them.

“I don’t believe mother will like it,” said Nora. “We ought not to have done it without asking her permission. It was your fault, Augusta; you should not have done it.”

“Nonsense!” said Augusta. “I could not help myself. Americans are not so frightfully formal and stuck-up as we English. For my part, I think the Asprays are the most charming girls? Nancy, don’t you agree with me?”

“I don’t know anything about them,” replied Nancy.

“Well, dear, you can know all about them if you like,” said Augusta in a very marked tone.

Kitty opened her eyes in bewilderment. What did Augusta mean? Nancy was colouring again painfully. As they reached the house the first thing they saw was a pile of travelling-cases in the hall.

“Uncle Peter must have come,” cried Kitty. “Now everything will be all right. How glad I am!” But the next moment she saw her mother, whose face was very grave and disturbed.

“My darlings,” she said, “since you went out I have had a telegram from my special friend in the north, Mrs. Rashleigh. She has just lost her only son, and is in the most terrible grief. She has begged me to go to her. I shall have to go up to town to-night, and shall go down to Yorkshire to-morrow. I am terribly sorry to leave you four to your own devices, particularly as Miss Roy is away. But fortunately Uncle Peter arrives in the morning, and I have no doubt that you will all be as good as possible under your uncle’s care.”

“Isn’t Uncle Peter coming to-night?” said Nancy, speaking very slowly, and with great anxiety in her tone.

“Oh, you thought so because his luggage has arrived!” said Mrs. Richmond. “No. I have had a wire from him. He has sent his luggage on, but is staying with an old friend at Tiverton till the morning.”

“Oh mother, how we shall miss you!” here exclaimed Kitty.

“And I you, my darlings; but I am so shocked at my dear friend’s trouble that I cannot really stay away from her. Now, my own two little girls, will you come upstairs and help mother to finish her packing?”

Kitty and Nora both quickly complied. Their mother’s room was in a great state of confusion. Her maid was strapping boxes and writing labels, and looking very much put out. Mrs. Richmond tied on her bonnet; then she turned to the girls.

“You will find the orderly-book,” she said, “in the chiffonier in the drawing-room; here is the key. I have just entered your marks for to-day. When Uncle Peter comes, give him the book. He will be responsible for it and for you until I come back. Now I hear the wheels of the carriage on the gravel. I must be off.”

“Oh mother! one word first,” said Nora.

“It must be a very brief word, then, Nora, or I shall miss my train” —

“We met the Asprays on the beach, mother.”

“The Asprays, dear? I don’t understand.”

“If you please, mum,” said the parlour-maid at this moment, “Harris says that unless you come at once you won’t catch your train.”

“I am quite ready,” said Mrs. Richmond. “Come, Merton, you cannot waste any more time over the packages. – Darlings, the Asprays, whoever they are, must keep. Good-bye, my pets – good-bye.”

In two minutes more the carriage was bowling down the avenue, Mrs. Richmond was gone, and the four girls looked at each other.

“It is most provoking,” said Nora. “She never told us anything about the Asprays. What are we to do?”

“To do!” said Augusta. “To take all the fun we can out of them. What else could we do?”

“All the same, I don’t think they are a bit the sort of girls that mother would like,” said Kitty. “But there! it doesn’t matter, for when Uncle Peter comes he will know what we ought or ought not to do.”

The rest of the evening passed somewhat sadly. Not only Kitty and Nora, but Nancy, too, missed the gentle presence of kind Mrs. Richmond. Augusta’s mind, too, was full of many things, and she was as silent as her cousins. Nancy was the first to suggest an early retirement to bed, and the others quickly followed her example.

Fairleigh was a large, rambling, old-fashioned house. It had belonged to the Richmonds for many generations, and had been added to and altered from time to time. The bedrooms were numerous but small. Augusta had been given a very tiny room leading out of Mrs. Richmond’s larger bedroom. Kitty, Nora, and Nancy had also bedrooms apiece, but their rooms were in the opposite wing of the house.

Augusta was tired and her head ached. The day through which she had just lived had been anything but to her taste. It is true there had been a certain amount of excitement, which had carried her through the long hours. But her mind was ill at ease. That bad mark in the orderly-book came between her and her rest. To receive a bad mark for conduct in Captain Richmond’s orderly-book would, she knew, be all but fatal for her chance of the Royal Cross. He was anxious and particular with regard to physical training and intellectual training, but first of all came conduct – conduct straight and conduct honourable. Augusta admired him very much, but at the same time she was afraid of him; for the Captain had a look in those blue eyes of his which caused her own to drop. She had an uncomfortable sensation when she saw him looking at her that he was reading right down into her heart. When he saw the bad-conduct mark he would not rest until he found out all particulars with regard to it. Mrs. Richmond, if she had given it at all, had given it for cruelty – for cruelty to Nancy, who was a special favourite of the Captain’s. But had Mrs. Richmond given that mark? That was the question which tormented Augusta and kept her from sleep. She got into bed, it is true, but instead of dropping off, as was her usual custom, into happy and healthy slumber, she tossed from side to side, thinking and thinking of Captain Richmond, and the bad mark. He would arrive in the morning, and would naturally inquire how his battalion was progressing – how his soldiers were conducting themselves. He would be very jolly, very agreeable, and a great acquisition, but at the same time he would come on Augusta at that moment of her career as a sort of Nemesis. “Notwithstanding all his agreeableness,” she said to herself, “I do wish he would not come just now. He is certain to make a fuss, too, about the Asprays; and from what Flora and Constance tell me, we are likely to have a splendid time with them – that is, I shall have a splendid time. Brilliant, handsome, gay sort of girls like Constance and Flora are not likely to meet with my painfully old-fashioned cousins’ approval. And as to Nancy, of course, she doesn’t count. But I should enjoy their society, and if Uncle Peter were not coming I should have it. Oh! I know they won’t suit him. Dear, dear! what a nuisance and worry everything is!”

At this juncture in her thoughts Augusta dropped into an uneasy doze, but she awakened in an hour or two to see the moonlight streaming into her room, and to find herself more awake than ever.

“I wonder if Aunt Jessie has given me that bad mark,” she thought. “I do wish I could see for myself. It is quite possible that in the hurry of her departure she forgot to make the entry. What a rare bit of luck it would be if such were the case! – for she is certain to forget all about it when she returns. I wish I could see the book; it would be such a tremendous rest to my mind?”

The more Augusta thought over this suddenly conceived idea, the more she longed to put it into execution. Sleep would not again visit her. It was dull beyond words to lie awake all night. Now that Mrs. Richmond was away, she was in a part of the house quite away from the rest of the family. If she got up no one would hear her. She would get up. She would go downstairs and examine the orderly-book, and find out the truth for herself.

She jumped out of bed, put on her dressing-gown and slippers, and going very softly up the three steps which communicated with Mrs. Richmond’s room, opened the door and went in. This room was also bright with moonlight. Augusta crossed the room and opened the door which led on to the landing, and a moment later found herself in the drawing-room. She knew where Mrs. Richmond kept the orderly-book. There was a very pretty old Sheraton chiffonier in one corner of the room, which contained many old-world drawers and queer hiding-places. Its legs were thin and spindly. It was a frail piece of furniture, but very good to look at. Mrs. Richmond was charmed with it, and as it was a recent acquisition she made use of it to keep her letter-paper and writing materials, and many other things, besides the orderly-book. But Augusta had quite forgotten that the drawer in which this book was always kept was locked, and she tugged and tugged now with a feeling of great irritation. To go so far and risk so much and to meet failure after all was anything but to her mind. She could be at times almost reckless in her desire to carry out her own wishes. She entered the dining-room now, opened a drawer in the sideboard, and taking out a stout knife, she returned to the Sheraton chiffonier. The chiffonier was old, and the locks not of the strongest. A little manipulation with the knife caused the hasp to go back, and without seriously injuring the piece of furniture, Augusta managed to open the drawer.

While upstairs she had not dared to strike a match, but in the drawing-room she was too far away to run any risk of being overheard. Accordingly she lit a couple of candles, and taking the heavy book, she laid it on Mrs. Richmond’s desk. Never before had she been permitted to see the entries made in the orderly-book, and she was deeply interested now. In particular the pages devoted to “Augusta Duncan” claimed her attention. After all she need not have been nervous, for Augusta had done well – very well – and, oh, wonder of wonders, delight of delights! there were so far no bad marks set against her name. On the contrary, the words “Good – good – good” appeared as she turned page after page.

“What a blessing!” she said to herself. “Aunt Jessie did forget; and now I can face the whole world with an easy mind.”

She was about to shut the book when it occurred to her to see what sort of marks the other girls had got. Captain Richmond had so arranged his orderly-book that day by day each girl had a page devoted to herself. These pages might be filled up or left blank according to the wishes and inclination of the person who entered the daily record. But for Kitty, for Nora, for Augusta, and for Nancy there was for each day a complete and separate page. Upon that page stood the record of the young life which had been lived during that special day. Now, the day which had just gone by was the 24th of August. Augusta amused herself reading the different remarks with regard to her cousins. Both Nora and Kitty had scored high. Their industry was considerable; they had risen early; they were neat in their persons and with regard to their rooms. Finally, the conduct of each girl was excellent. Yes, that was the word.

Augusta turned back to the page which recorded her own life on this special day. She too had “excellent” put against her conduct. She had not noticed this before.

“It is too funny!” she thought. “Nancy must have been very persuasive although she knew it not. Aunt Jessie has never spoken of my conduct before as excellent. Dear, dear! I could hug the dear old aunty were she here. Why, she could not have said better of Nancy herself. She was evidently in a hurry, for she has not filled up the page. But my conduct is excellent. I declare it is a huge joke. Well, this sets my mind absolutely at rest. I will just glance at Nancy’s page. If Aunt Jessie considered my conduct excellent to-day, what will she have to say with regard to the little favourite?”

Augusta turned the leaves of the book, and soon arrived at Nancy’s page. It looked strangely empty. There were no remarks about early rising, nor intelligence, nor order, nor neatness. There were only blanks there, and under the heading “Conduct” Augusta read, “Bad conduct—guilty of cruelty.”

She nearly fell back as she read the words. The colour rushed in a crimson tide to her face, and just for an instant she felt strangely giddy. Then she shut the book, and putting it back into the chiffonier, stole softly and quietly upstairs to bed. She knew, of course, exactly what had happened. Aunt Jessie in her hurry had made an extraordinary and inexplicable mistake. She had written Nancy’s record on Augusta’s page.

“Well, I never!” said Augusta to herself. She quite panted in her excitement and flurry. When she first lay down in bed she was cold and trembling, and her impulse was to explain the matter to every one and clear Nancy.

But, alas! to do this required some nobility of nature, and Augusta was not noble enough. To expose herself, to show herself in her true light in the eyes of Captain Richmond, was more than she could stand; and she had not been half-an-hour in bed before she began to congratulate herself on her lucky – most lucky – escape.

“They will never, never know that I know,” she said to herself. “I have but to remain quiet and allow things to run their course. No chance of the Royal Cross for you, little Miss Nancy; but there are great chances of my obtaining the longed-for prize. I am in luck. I declare I am quite sleepy, the relief is so great.”

She turned on her side, and a moment later was sleeping as innocently as a baby.

CHAPTER XXI. – THE PICNIC

At breakfast next morning the children were in high spirits.

Augusta had awakened without any headache or any pricks of conscience. “Let Uncle Peter come now,” she said to herself; “I won’t be afraid of him.”

It happened to be a lovely morning, and the windows of the pretty breakfast-room were wide open. The gardener was mowing the grass on the tennis-lawn; the roses and other climbing flowers peeped in at the lattice-window, and sweet summer scents filled the room.

“Poor, poor darling mother,” exclaimed Kitty as she seated herself at the breakfast-tray; “how awfully fagged she must be! I do hope she will soon come back.”

“We ought not to wish her to come back too soon,” said Nora, who always happened to say just the right thing; “for if Mrs. Rashleigh is very sad mother can comfort her.”

“Do see what you are doing!” cried Augusta at that moment. “You have overfilled the teapot, and the tea is running out on the tray.”

Kitty laughed gleefully, and soon rectified her mistake, and the meal progressed, accompanied by gay remarks of all sorts.

“Uncle Peter ought to be here by eleven o’clock,” said Nora. “The train arrives at Fairlight at half-past ten; he is sure to come by it.”

“What are we to do to-day?” asked Augusta. “Have we any plans, girls? I think we might” —

“Oh! I know what you are going to say,” exclaimed Nora. “You want to go to see those tiresome Aspray girls. But we can’t do anything until Uncle Peter arrives. He will direct us, and we will do exactly what he wishes.”

“Tiresome man!” muttered Augusta under her breath. Aloud she said: “Pass me that brown scone, Nancy. And for goodness’ sake, child, don’t open your eyes so wide whenever I speak to you!”

“I tell you what it is,” said Nora – “I have lacked courage to say it for some days, but I will say it now – I do wish you would not scold Nancy whenever you speak to her.”

“I don’t; I know I don’t,” said Augusta. – ”Do I scold you whenever I speak to you, Nancy, mignon?”

“I don’t mind,” said Nancy; and before anything else could be said the servant entered, bearing a note and also a telegram on a salver. She handed the telegram to Nora, and the note to Augusta.

“The messenger is waiting, miss,” said the girl, speaking to Nora.

“What can it mean?” cried Nora; while Kitty craned her neck forward to watch her sister as she read.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Nora; “how very provoking! It is from Uncle Pete. He says he cannot arrive before dinner-time. – There is no answer, thank you, Ellen.”

Ellen left the room, and Augusta now turned her attention to her note. She tore it open, and the next moment she exclaimed in great excitement:

“Oh, I say, this is jolly! Here is a line from Flora Aspray. They want us to join them all for a big picnic. They are going to Fairlight Towers – you know, that charming old ruin that we have always wanted to see. They are starting at eleven o’clock, and they ask us to meet them at the crossroads. They say they will have carriages enough to take us all, and we shall be back soon after dusk. Isn’t it quite too heavenly? Of course we will go – eh, Nora? – eh, Kitty?”

“I wish Uncle Peter were here,” said Kitty; “he would tell us whether it were right or wrong.”

“What folly! If Aunt Jessie were at home she would certainly allow us to go. Anyhow, I intend to go, whether you are silly or not.”

“I am sure it is not right, and I am sure mother would not like it,” said Kitty again. “May I look at Flora’s letter, please, Gussie?”

Augusta handed the letter across to her cousin.

“There is no mention of Mrs. Aspray. Flora seems to have asked us quite from herself,” said Kitty. “What do you say, Nora? What do you say, Nancy?”

“I don’t want to go at all. To be frank with you, Gussie, I don’t care for those girls,” said Nora.

“Well, you do like to spoil one’s pleasure whenever you can. I suppose there is nothing for it but for Nancy and me to go alone.”

“Must I go with you?” cried Nancy.

“Yes – certainly,” replied Augusta.

“She sha’n’t go unless she wishes to,” here interposed Kitty. “Why do you bully her? I think you are very unkind.”

“And I think you are all perfectly hateful!” said Augusta, who was red with passion. “Well,” she added, “have it your own way. I shall go by myself; I do not intend to miss the fun.”

She marched out of the room as she spoke, and the three other girls glanced at one another.

“Perhaps I had better go with her,” said Nancy. “What do you think, Kitty? It doesn’t matter so much for me, you know; I am not your real sister. I mean that Aunt Jessie would be more particular about you and what you did than about what I do.”

“You may go, of course, if you like,” said Kitty; “but you shall not go if you do not like. Gussie shall not make your life a burden to you.”

“I think I’ll go,” said Nancy. She rose very slowly and left the room.

“What a darling little thing she is!” said Kitty; “always so self-denying and so anxious to please others. Now, I know she is merely doing this to please Gussie; and why Gussie should be humoured at every turn is more than I can understand. Nancy would have enjoyed a long, quiet, happy day with us; and why should she make herself perfectly miserable?”

“Augusta has a power over her which I can never understand,” replied Nora. “She does very wrong indeed to accept the Asprays’ invitation; but perhaps it is as well, since she insists on going, that Nancy should go with her. She won’t be quite so daring and so unladylike if Nancy is by.”

“Oh dear!” cried Kitty, “do you really think our cousin Augusta unladylike?”

“When she does underhand things I do,” replied Nora. “But there, Kit! don’t let us worry any more. We have a lot to do, and on this day of all days we must not be idle, with dear Uncle Peter coming in the evening.”

“Do you know,” exclaimed Kitty, “that I cannot find the key of the chiffonier where the orderly-book is kept. Mother put it into my hand just when she was going, and I can’t imagine where I placed it. Let us go up and search mother’s room. It will never do for the key to be lost just when Uncle Peter arrives.”

The girls ran upstairs and began to search in their mother’s room, but nowhere, high or low, could they find the missing key. They questioned the servants, and begged them to have a good search for it, and presently, absorbed by other matters, forgot the circumstance.

Meanwhile Augusta was putting on her gayest and most becoming costume.

When Nancy put her sad little face round the door and said “I am going with you, Gussie,” just for a moment Augusta’s conscience did give her a sharp prick.

“You are good-natured,” she said, “and I won’t forget it. Put on something nice. Wear your pretty white dress and your white hat. You look so nice all in pure white!”

Nancy nodded and went off to her room.

“She is a good-natured little soul,” thought Augusta. “It will be much nicer for me to go with her than alone. If by any chance anything is said, she must naturally take her share of the blame. What a blessing that tiresome captain put off his visit till to-night! I only wish, for my part, he would put it off altogether. Now, do I look best in pink or blue? Pink, I think. Pale pink suits almost any one. My white hat with the blush-roses will look sweet with this frock. I don’t want those handsome girls to outshine me. Now I fancy I’ll do. I shall be quite as smart as they are, and that is all I am going to trouble my head about.”

At a quarter to eleven Augusta and Nancy left Fairleigh, and walked down the dusty road until they came to the cross-roads where they were to wait for the Asprays’ picnic party.

Punctual almost to the moment, a wagonette, a pony-carriage, and a phaeton appeared in sight. The gaily dressed party shouted welcomes to the two girls; and Mrs. Aspray, an exceedingly stout woman with a timid face and a good-natured expression, bent forward and held out her hand to welcome Augusta and Nancy.

“Why, I thought there were four of you,” she said. “Florrie said four. – Didn’t you, Flo? You mentioned four girls; I am certain of it.”

“Yes, mother,” replied Flora; “but you can see for yourself that there are only two waiting for us at the cross-roads.”

“I am so sorry,” here interrupted Augusta, speaking in her most ladylike, company, and grownup manner, “but my cousins, Kitty and Nora, are both suffering from bad colds, otherwise they would have been delighted to come.”

Nancy’s face first grew red and then white when Augusta told this falsehood. She was about to say something, but receiving a sharp nudge on her elbow from the irrepressible Augusta, she held her peace.

Room was made for the two girls in the wagonette, and the party proceeded gaily on their way. The day was a perfect one – neither too hot nor too windy; the great heat of the summer’s sun was tempered by refreshing breezes. The destination of the party was an old castle which hung over the sea at the edge of a great promontory. The castle was one of the show-places of the neighbourhood, and picnic parties there were very common.

The custodian was very pleased to receive the Asprays and their friends, and he told Mrs. Aspray that they could all have dinner in the great stone hall where once upon a time, many ages ago, the monks of the order of Ethelbert used to feed.

Augusta was in wild spirits, and Nancy tried hard to enjoy herself. There were one or two quiet, gentle sort of girls who attached themselves to her, and they walked about, examining the old place and trying to piece together its past history.

Augusta meanwhile scarcely left Flora’s side. She liked her even better than Constance. Flora was so gay, so hearty in her manner – so daring, too. She was absolutely astonished when Augusta told her that she, in her own sheltered life, had to conform to rules and to obey conditions.

“But you are too old,” said Flora. “Why, you are seventeen, are you not?”

“No,” answered Augusta; “I am only just sixteen.”

“As if that mattered! Why, in America we often marry as young as sixteen, and we certainly do exactly what we like. Oh! I am so anxious to introduce you to a great friend of ours – Mr. Archer. I did so hope he would be here to-day! He is an American, and such fun! He will put you up to a wrinkle or two. We heard from him this morning, and he will arrive to-morrow. I know you would admire him; and what is more to the point, I am certain he would like you. You are exactly the sort of English girl to take his fancy.”

Augusta blushed when Flora talked about Mr. Archer and the extreme likelihood of his taking a fancy to her.

“I don’t suppose he would for a minute. And I don’t know – this is quite between ourselves – that I shall see much more of any of you.” she answered.

“What do you mean by that? Don’t you like us?” asked Flora bluntly.

“Need you ask?” replied Augusta. “I cannot express to you what a blessing it is to me having people like you close to us; but the Richmonds have very funny ideas, and the fact is, as my aunt has not called on your mother – Oh, you understand, don’t you?”

“But your aunt is away. How can she call on mother? She would, naturally, if she were at home.”

“Yes – yes; I know.”

“And being away,” continued Flora, “the necessary formalities cannot be gone through. Surely we can all have fun together. There is Constance. – Constance, I want to say a word to you.”

Constance danced up to her sister.

“Here is Miss Duncan,” continued Flora, “hinting to me that she won’t be able to see much of us in future. Don’t you think that would be a vast pity, Connie? And with David Archer coming, too!”

Constance laughed.

“You will like him immensely if you see him,” she said, staring full at Augusta.

Once more the colour rushed into her guest’s face.

“Well,” said Augusta, “I must do my best. You may be sure I should like to come. I have said so to your sister already. But there is a Captain Richmond coming this evening – I call him Uncle Peter, although he is not my real uncle – and he is awfully particular, and may prevent me.”

“Captain Richmond!” cried both the girls.

“Is he young, and is he nice?” questioned Flora.

“Yes; I expect you would think him both young and good-looking. As to his being nice, I expect he is that too, only he might not fulfil your ideas.”

“I should like to see him,” said Flora. “Now, I tell you what, Gussie (oh! you must let me call you Gussie – ‘Miss Duncan’ is far too stiff), you must manage – quite by accident, you know – to meet us to-morrow, or next day, with your dear, particular Captain Richmond; then you will be forced, you know, to introduce us, and we will introduce you to David Archer.”

“All right. I will see what I can do,” answered Augusta.

A shout from another member of the party caused the three girls to look up.

Mr. Aspray, a very stout man with a pale face, was calling to them to hurry down and help to make tea, and no further private conversation was possible. But as the carriages drew up at the crossroads for the two girls to alight, Flora whispered in Augusta’s ear:

“Don’t forget, Gussie. Constance and I will be walking in the Fairleigh woods to-morrow. Now, be as clever as you look, and do what we want.”