Kitabı oku: «The Third Miss St Quentin», sayfa 12
Chapter Thirteen
Ermine Misses the Fun
A mist seemed suddenly to roll away from Sir Philip’s brain.
“Miss Ella,” he repeated, with a sort of gasp; “you don’t mean to say – you can’t be little Ella St Quentin?”
“Why not?” Ella retorted, sharply still – the “little” was unfortunate. “I am Ella St Quentin and I have never pretended to be any one else; but at my age people are not spoken of as if they were three or four years old.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Philip.
“And,” she went on, “I don’t understand why you should speak of me in that way at all. I don’t know who you are.”
But Philip did not at once reply – his thoughts for the moment were pursuing another train. “I can’t make out,” he said, speaking more to himself than to her, “why they all mystified us. They must have known we were dancing together – Madelene, Ermine, certainly, and my grandmother must have – was it with her you came to the Belvoirs’?” he exclaimed suddenly. “Was that the reason of Granny’s strange freak?”
In her turn, Ella’s face looked first astonished, then illumined.
“Are you speaking of Lady Cheynes, my godmother?” she said. “Then are you Sir Philip Cheynes? Oh, how fearfully stupid of me not to know! But,” and her bewilderment took the same direction as his, “why did none of them introduce us properly? Of course I never thought of you being here; I understood till yesterday that you were up in the north somewhere. I did not hear your surname at all, and I was not sure if you were ‘Sir Philip,’ though I remembered that much. If I had thought of it – it is not such a very common name – but I just never thought of you, of my godmother’s grandson, at all.”
“I see,” Philip replied; “and they all lent themselves to the – ‘mystification,’ that is plain. I confess I don’t see much point in it.”
He spoke stiffly, but he was not resenting it on her– indeed he had no reason to do so, but when people are vexed they are not always reasonable – so Ella remained gracious. Suddenly his eyes fell on her quaint figure – she had forgotten all about her personal travesty by this time – and a half dubious, half quizzical smile lighted up his face as if in spite of himself.
“It seems mystifications all round,” he said. “It is, to say the least, an extraordinary coincidence that I should light upon you like this, all perfectly got up in the Aschen-puttel style.”
“You are very,” – “impertinent” was on the tip of Ella’s tongue, but she suppressed it. “I daresay he has heard of all my iniquities from Madelene. I am not going to have him endorse her opinion of me,” she thought, and a very charming smile stole over her face, as, colouring again a little, she replied gently, “You are right. It is very queer that we should have met again like this,” and she went on to explain Hetty’s domestic tribulations.
“It was most kind of you,” said Philip warmly. “But,” as at that moment the little girl and her father joined them, “don’t you think you had better return to your own character now? It is very cold, too. Rose, you mustn’t let Hetty keep house alone in this style, my good fellow,” he went on to the gardener; “the child might have fallen into the fire and been badly burnt.”
It had never happened before, and never should again, the man assured him civilly. He had not known of his wife’s absence; she had, so Hetty had been charged to explain, been tempted to take advantage of the unexpected chance of getting her boy to the doctor’s; and by the invariable rule of contrary, Rose himself had been detained at work much later than usual. While the gardener was thus explaining matters, Ella had run in to the lodge, and a moment later reappeared in hat and jacket, minus the apron and the smuts.
“Good-bye, Hetty,” she said, and “good-bye Sir Philip Cheynes,” she added, turning to him. “I am going a little further, towards the outer gate.”
Philip looked at her.
“Will you not take your constitutional in another direction?” he said quietly. “There is – I have something to say to you, which I may not find another opportunity for.”
Ella looked surprised and a little startled. His tone was solemn. Was he going after all to make out that she deserved lecturing for her innocent deception? But her expression changed to relief when he went on, Rose and Hetty having by this time retired —
“It is not exactly something to say; it is rather something to give you. If you don’t mind walking beside me while I lead my horse, I will explain. A – a piece of property of yours has come into my possession. I had no expectation of course of seeing you here, but I have the – article in my pocket, because, to tell the truth, I was going to show it to my cousins and consult them about it. I thought it probable they had noticed the shoes ‘Miss Wyndham’ wore the other evening if they were the peculiar-looking ones in question, and that they would be able to tell me where to find her.”
Ella had had hard work to keep down her impatience during this long explanation, and when he came to the word “shoe” her eyes danced with delight.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, “if you have found my slipper I can’t thank you enough. You don’t know how miserable I have been about it,” and she went on to tell how her anxiety to hear if it had been found had brought her to the lodge that morning. “It must be mine,” she went on; “it is too impossible that such a queer accident should have happened to any one else the same evening. But please let me see it, that I may be quite sure.”
Philip drew a little parcel out of his pocket and held it out to Ella, who eagerly unwrapped it. Yes – there it lay – the dainty little old-world slipper, with infinite pathos about its mellow satin and quaint buckle to any one who knew its history.
Ella looked inclined to kiss it.
“Oh, how pleased I am,” she said. “Do tell me where you found it and all about it – and how odd it was that you should have noticed the slippers I had on and known it was mine.”
Sir Philip looked at her quizzically.
“I must take your word for it, I suppose, that it is yours,” he said. “By rights, you know, you should try it on, at least after Madelene and Ermine have done so.”
“What nonsense,” Ella exclaimed. “You are not in earnest?”
It was not till some time afterwards that she understood what he had meant.
“I can show you the fellow to it, if you like,” she added.
“Well – perhaps that would do as well,” he agreed, looking much amused.
“And as for trying it on, that wouldn’t convince you,” she said after a moment’s reflection, “for they’re too big for me. They weren’t made for me – ”
“Scarcely, unless – you are even more of a fairy personage than I have suspected. The slippers must be thirty years old at least. If you were grown-up thirty years ago, you look young for your age,” he said.
Ella laughed.
“Yes, I see,” she answered. “But, by the by, I wonder you never saw them before. They belonged to your sis – no, she couldn’t have been your sister – what was she to you, then, Clarice Cheynes?” and she glanced up in his face with a little frown of perplexity on her own.
A light broke over Philip’s.
“They were hers!” he exclaimed, “and poor granny disinterred them for you to dance in!”
“I am her godchild,” Ella replied, rearing her head a little as she spoke.
“Of course. I only meant, what I am sure you think too, that it was very good of her. People are sometimes more selfish about feelings of that kind than about anything else. No – I never saw the slippers before, but I know that granny has a room where she treasures up all the little possessions of my aunt – who never was my aunt – Clarice.”
“Did she die before you were born then?” asked Ella.
“Yes – she died the year my father and mother were married, and I was not their eldest child,” said Sir Philip, “though all the others died as babies.”
They were near the house by this time. Ella looked up dubiously.
“Perhaps you will get on your horse again now,” she said, “and ride up to the door. My sisters are expecting you, I know – perhaps you will tell them of having met me, and found out who I was.”
“Will you not tell them yourself?” he said.
“No, I am going round the other way, behind the house. I have no longer any interest in watching for the groom,” Ella replied, “and I would rather you told my sisters, please.” She hesitated a little – “They, Madelene, might be a little annoyed, at – at my having been at the lodge, and all that.”
Philip looked surprised.
“I don’t think that is at all the sort of thing to vex Maddie,” he said. “Indeed it is rather in Ermine’s own line, I should say.”
But Ella still looked doubtful, and hurried off, half smiling, but with a gesture that implied her preference for not making one at the forthcoming interview.
Philip mounted and rode up, en règle, to the door, where, in answer to his inquiries, he was told that Miss St Quentin was at home and in the library.
There, sure enough, he found his elder cousin. She started up as he came in.
“Oh, Philip, that’s right,” she exclaimed. “We were just hoping you would come before luncheon. It is so nice to have you at home again,” she added affectionately.
“It is nice to be home again,” he replied, as he went up to the fire and stood warming his hands at the blaze. Then there fell a little silence.
“Madelene,” said Sir Philip at last, “you haven’t yet introduced me to you sister Ella.”
“No,” Miss St Quentin replied, “there has not yet been any opportunity for my doing so,” she was beginning, when she suddenly and unaccountably stopped. “If you will ring, Philip,” she said, “I will send to tell both Ermine and Ella to come.”
But Philip did not move towards the bell.
“I don’t want them to come just yet,” he said. “I want to talk to you a little first. And besides, Ella is out.”
“Ella out,” repeated Madelene, looking up and changing colour slightly. Her manner seemed rather constrained and nervous. “How do you know?” her glance at him said.
Philip smiled.
“Yes,” he said, “I know what you are looking so ‘funny’ about, Maddie, as we used to say when we were children. You cannot sham the very least bit in the world; you never could, you know. Yes – I have met Ella, and the mystification is at an end. But by Jove what it ever began for, I cannot imagine. Will you not enlighten me?”
Miss St Quentin grew more and more uneasy.
“No,” she said, “I can’t. It – it was a freak of Ermine’s, and Aunt Anna took it up and joined in it, so I could not oppose it, though to tell you the truth I never liked it. Of course at the beginning it was altogether accidental; we had no idea – Ermie and I, I mean – of Aunt Anna’s getting papa to let Ella go to the ball – we had done our utmost to persuade him, but he wouldn’t. And then your being there was unexpected – and they made a muddle of Ella’s name: all that came about of itself.”
“Yes,” said Philip. “I see. But I see, too, how cleverly you all – no, not so much you, Maddie – joined to keep up the mistake, though upon my word I can’t see any point in it. I cannot find fault with my grandmother, but I shall have it out with Ermine.”
Madelene looked distressed; she saw that Philip was on the point of being angry.
“It is my clumsiness,” she said. “If you had seen Ermine first it would have been all right. She would have made you see it differently – but don’t be vexed about it, Philip. I do beg you not to be. I do so want to have no more worries in which Ella is concerned. I am so tired of misunderstandings and all that kind of bother.”
Philip took her up at once.
“Have you had many bothers, poor Maddie?” he said. “Is she – is Ella not – not nice and gentle with you?”
Madelene felt as if she could have bitten her tongue off for having spoken so ill-advisedly.
“No, of course I didn’t mean to say anything against Ella,” she replied quickly. “You shouldn’t take one up so, Philip. It makes me think Ermine was right.”
“Right in what? Maddie, I am tired of all these half-speeches and cross-purposes. And I foresee I shall very likely have a quarrel with Ermine if you won’t speak out. What was she right in, and why did she want me to make your young sister’s acquaintance without knowing who she was.”
“She thought – as it had happened so – it was not our doing at first, remember – she thought you would like Ella better, judge her for herself as it were, if you met her as a stranger. Ermie has fancied you were a little prepossessed against Ella, and, I think,” Miss St Quentin went on, consideringly, “I think, perhaps she blames herself a little for its being so. You remember – that day when Ella first arrived – Ermine had been really hardly fair about her.”
Philip sat listening.
“Well?” he said, after waiting as if for his cousin to continue.
“That’s all,” said Madelene. “It really is, Philip. I can’t tell you any more of what Ermine thinks or doesn’t think, and as it is, I didn’t want to tell you this. You might have treated it, I do think, as a simple little piece of fun. But now that I have said so much, I trust you to make no to-do about it.”
“I shall have it out with granny,” remarked Philip; “but that’s our own affair, hers and mine.” But he said no more about quarrelling with Ermine.
After a while he looked up and related to Madelene how he and Ella had met. A variety of expressions crossed Madelene’s face as he spoke.
“I wish you had not met her for the first time – ”
“But it wasn’t the first time,” Philip interrupted.
“Well – you know what I mean – the first time at home, in that extraordinary guise. She must have looked comical,” said Madelene, laughing however. “She is very impulsive.”
“Impressionable, I should say,” said Philip. “And very warm-hearted. I like to see that sort of impulsiveness,” he added heartily, watching Madelene’s face rather closely the while.
Again a slightly uneasy look stole over it.
“Yes,” she said, “it was kind, thoroughly kind of her to help poor Hetty.”
But even in this cordial praise there was a suggestion of reserve which did not escape Philip.
“Cross-purposes. They’re all at cross-purposes,” he thought, “and I’m afraid Maddie’s in a mood for a good long ride on her hobby-horse at present. Madelene,” he said suddenly after some moments silence, “you’ve had a letter from Bernard lately. I know you have, for he wrote to me by the same mail.”
“In that case I need not give you any news, as you will have heard it all direct,” Miss St Quentin replied dryly.
“Come now, Maddie, I know what that means. You don’t want to talk about him. Is there no change then – do you see no prospect of any?”
“None at all,” Madelene replied, in a voice which she strove to make as expressionless as possible.
“It’s rather hard upon Omar, I must say,” said Philip; and if his object were to rouse his cousin, he succeeded.
“Did I ever say it wasn’t hard on him?” she exclaimed. “Is it my fault? Have I left undone anything to make him give it up?”
“I don’t say you have. I don’t say that in that way you are to blame,” said Philip quietly; “always allowing that the obstacles are as insuperable as you make out.”
“They are more so – worse and worse,” said Madelene, with a rather wintry smile.
“Then you will forbid his coming home, as he can now, I suppose?”
“I have no right to do so, but if he does, I – ”
The rest of her sentence was left to the imagination, for at that moment the door opened, and Ermine, followed by Ella, made her appearance.
Ermine gave no one time to feel awkward.
“It is too bad of you, Philip, and of you, Ella, too,” she said laughing, “to have balked me of my fun. It would have been too lovely to see you both looking so astonished.”
“I am not very fond of looking ridiculous for the amusement of my friends, though I would do a good deal to oblige you, Ermine,” said Sir Philip dryly.
Ella’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction. She would not like Sir Philip Cheynes to speak to her in that tone, she said to herself. But Ermine did not seem to mind in the least.
“I can stand your withering speeches, my dear boy,” she said coolly. “It was great fun all the same, and Aunt Anna enjoyed it as much as I did. You can have it out with her, if you like, when you go home.”
“I intend to do so,” he replied.
Ella stood glancing from one to the other with a rather comical look of perplexity on her pretty face. They seemed on very free and easy terms, these sisters of hers with their cousin. Somehow she had not quite realised it, and it surprised her a little. She had never seen anything quite of the same kind before. It was not flirtation, and yet – she was not by any means sure but that the brother and sisterly love covered some deeper and tenderer feeling, and she watched and listened with peculiar curiosity. Madelene, she observed, looked up with some anxiety when she heard the bandying of words between Ermine and her cousin.
“Philip,” she said half reproachfully in a low voice – he was standing near her – “you promised me?”
Sir Philip turned, with the smile which was one of his charms.
“Don’t be afraid, Maddie,” he said almost tenderly, it seemed to Ella. “Ermine, my dear, we must not even play at quarrelling; it troubles dear old Mad.”
“Shall we kiss and be friends then – eh, Phil?” said Ermine saucily; and when Sir Philip began something about taking her at her word, and she ensconced herself defiantly behind her elder sister’s chair, Madelene laughed with hearty pleasure, her whole face lighted up with satisfaction at seeing that there was no real danger of misunderstanding between the two.
“I have it,” said Ella to herself. “It isn’t Ermine herself so much. It is Madelene who wants Philip for her; that explains the keeping me out of his way when I first came, and all the rest of is. I wonder if my godmother wishes it too? Yet the trick the other night can hardly have been on that account. I don’t see any object in it. I suppose it was just a freak of Ermine’s, and that Madelene and my godmother too gave in to her. Ermine is so spoilt.”
But she was interrupted in these wise and profound cogitations. Ermine suddenly gave an exclamation.
“Oh dear,” she said. “I am forgetting to give you this note from Mrs Belvoir. I met James with it as I was crossing the hall.”
“A note only – no parcel,” said Madelene in a tone of disappointment. “I am so sorry, Ella,” she went on after running her eyes down the two or three hurried lines which the envelope contained. “I am so sorry. Mrs Belvoir knows nothing of the – of your lost property. I am so sorry for you, dear.”
A pleasant light spread over her cousin’s face as he caught the last words. They seemed to assure him of Madelene’s kindliness and sympathy. Ella too was touched by them.
“About the shoe, you mean,” she said. “Oh, Madelene, I was just going to tell you. I am not surprised or disappointed for,” – here she glanced at Philip – “won’t you tell them how it was?” she went on, half shyly; “I don’t think I heard quite exactly how or when you happened to find it.”
“You found it! Phil found it! oh, how lovely!” cried Ermine. “Have you got it in your pocket, Philip, or were you afraid of sitting down upon it and smashing it?”
Philip frowned a little.
“Out with it,” said Ermine, “then – what should you do then? – we’ll have to skip the herald part of the business. Go down on your knees – isn’t that it? – and present it first to Maddie and then to me. Of course we can’t get it on, and then you summon – ”
Philip began to look distinctly annoyed; Ella, notwithstanding her usual quickness, seemed merely bewildered.
“I have not got it,” said Sir Philip; “of course I returned it at once to its rightful owner.”
“I have got it,” said Ella. “It is up stairs with its fellow. Sir Philip gave it to me when we met. Would you mind telling where you found it?”
“It was just outside the hall door at the Manor,” the young man replied. “I was standing there not long after my last dance with – with Miss Wyndham,” he added with a little smile, “and saw it lying – the buckle gleaming in the moonlight.”
“Like glass” interrupted Ermine; “dear me, you are quite poetical, Philip. It must have been that time you went to catch some friends of yours whom you wanted to say good-night to before they left.”
“Yes,” said Philip, simply, “it was.”
And Ella fixed her brown eyes on him as he spoke.
