Beechcroft at Rockstone

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> Beechcroft at Rockstone

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'Why not? What do you mean?'

Kalliope was very unwilling to speak, but at last it came.

'How can I do this to please your aunt, who thinks better of me than
I deserve, when---Oh! excuse me---I know it is all your kindness---but
when I am allowing you to deceive her---almost, I mean---'

'Deceive! I never spoke an untrue word to my aunt in my life,' said
Gillian, in proud anger; 'but if you think so, Miss White, I had
better have no more to do with it.'

'I feel,' said Kalliope, with tears in her eyes, 'as if it might be
better so, unless Miss Mohun knew all about it.'

'Well, if you think so, and like to upset all your brother's hopes---'

'It would be a terrible grief to him, I know, and I don't undervalue
your kindness, indeed I don't; but I cannot be happy about it while
Miss Mohun does not know. I don't understand why you do not tell
her.'

'Because I know there would be a worry and a fuss. Either she would
say we must wait for letters from mamma, or else that Alexis must
come to Beechcroft, and all the comfort would be over, and it would
be gossiped about all over the place. Can't you trust me, when I
tell you I have written it all to my own father and mother, and
surely I know my own family best?'

Kalliope looked half convinced, but she persisted---

'I suppose you do; only please, till there is a letter from Lady
Merrifield, I had rather not go into this Society.'

'But, Kally, you don't consider. What am I to say to my aunt? What
will she think of you?'

'I can't help that! I cannot do this while she could feel I was
conniving at what she might not like. Indeed, I cannot. I beg your
pardon, but it goes against me. When shall you be able to hear from
Lady Merrifield?'

'I wrote three weeks ago. I suppose I shall hear about half-way
through December, and you know they could telegraph if they wanted to
stop it, so I think you might be satisfied.'

Still Kalliope could not be persuaded, and finally, as a sort of
compromise, Gillian decided on saying that she would think about it
and give her answer at Christmas; to which she gave a reluctant
assent, with one more protest that if there were no objection to the
lessons, she could not see why Miss Mohun should not know of them.

Peace was barely restored before voices were heard, and in came
Fergus, bringing Alexis with him. They had met on the beach road in
front of the works, and Fergus, being as usual full of questions
about a crane that was swinging blocks of stone into a vessel close
to the little pier, his aunt had allowed him to stay to see the work
finished, after which Alexis would take him to join his sister.

So it came about that they all walked home together very cheerfully,
though Gillian was still much vexed under the surface at Kalliope's
old-maidish particularity.

However, the aunts were not as annoyed at the delay as she expected.
Miss Mohun said she would look out some papers that would be
convincing and persuasive, and that it might be as well not to enrol
Miss White too immediately before the Christmas festivities, but to
wait till the books were begun next year. Plans began to prevail for
the Christmas diversions and entertainments, but the young
Merrifields expected to have nothing to do with these, as they were
to meet the rest of the family at their eldest uncle's house at
Beechcroft; all except Harry, who was to be ordained in the Advent
Ember week, and at once begin work with his cousin David Merrifield
in the Black Country. Their aunts would not go with them, as
Beechcroft breezes, though her native air, were too cold for Adeline
in the winter, and Jane could leave neither her, nor her various
occupations, and the festivities of all Rockstone.

It is not easy to say which Gillian most looked forward to: Mysie's
presence, or the absence of the supervision which she imagined
herself to suffer from, because she had set herself to shirk it. She
knew she should feel more free. But behold! a sudden change,
produced by one morning's letters.

'It is a beastly shame!'

'Oh, Fergus! That's not a thing to say,' cried Valetta.

'I don't care! It is a beastly shame not to go to Beechcroft, and be
poked up here all the holidays.'

'But you can't when Primrose has got the whooping-cough.'

'Bother the whooping-cough.'

'And welcome; but you would find it bother you, I believe.'

'I shouldn't catch it. I want Wilfred, and to ride the pony, and see
the sluice that Uncle Maurice made.'

'You couldn't if you had the cough.'

'Then I should stay there instead of coming back to school! I say it
is horrid, and beastly, and abominable, and---'

'Come, come, Fergus,' here put in Gillian, 'that is very wrong.'

'You don't hear Gill and me fly out in that way,' added Valetta,
'though we are so sorry about Mysie and Fly.'

'Oh, you are girls, and don't know what is worth doing. I _will_ say
it is beast---'

'Now don't, Fergus; it is very rude and ungrateful to the aunts.
None of us like having to stay here and lose our holiday; but it is
very improper to say so in their own house, and I thought you were so
fond of Aunt Jane.'

'Aunt Jane knows a thing or two, but she isn't Wilfred.'

'And Wilfred is always teasing you.'

'Fergus is quite right,' said Miss Mohun, who had been taking off her
galoshes in the vestibule while this colloquy was ending in the
dining-room; 'it is much better to be bullied by a brother than made
much of by an aunt, and you know I am very sorry for you all under
the infliction.'

'Oh, Aunt Jane, we know you are very kind, and---' began Gillian.

'Never mind, my dear; I know you are making the best of us, and I am
very much obliged to you for standing up for us. It is a great
disappointment, but I was going to give Fergus a note that I think
will console him.'

And out of an envelope which she had just taken from the letter-box
she handed him a note, which he pulled open and then burst out,
'Cousin David! Hurrah! Scrumptious!' commencing a war-dance at the
same moment.

'What is it? Has David asked you?' demanded both his sisters at the
same moment.

'Hurrah! Yes, it is from him. "My dear Fergus, I hope"---hurrah---
"Harry, mm---mm---mm---brothers, 20th mm---mm. Your affectionate cousin,
David Merrifield."'

'Let me read it to you,' volunteered Gillian.

'Wouldn't you like it?'

'How can you be so silly, Ferg? You can't read it yourself. You
don't know whether he really asks you.'

Fergus made a face, and bolted upstairs to gloat, and perhaps peruse
the letter, while Valetta rushed after him, whether to be teased or
permitted to assist might be doubtful.

'He really does ask him,' said Aunt Jane. 'Your cousin David, I
mean. He says that he and Harry can put up all the three boys
between them, and that they will be very useful in the Christmas
festivities of Coalham.'

'It is very kind of him,' said Gillian in a depressed tone.

'Fergus will be very happy.'

'I only hope he will not be bent on finding a coal mine in the garden
when he comes back,' said Aunt Jane, smiling; 'but it is rather
dreary for you, my dear. I had been hoping to have Jasper here for
at least a few days. Could he not come and fetch Fergus?'

Gillian's eyes sparkled at the notion; but they fell at once, for
Jasper would be detained by examinations until so late that he would
only just be able to reach Coalham before Christmas Day. Harry was
to be ordained in a fortnight's time to work under his cousin, Mr.
David Merrifield, and his young brothers were to meet him immediately
after.

'I wish I could go too,' sighed Gillian, as a hungry yearning for
Jasper or for Mysie took possession of her.

'I wish you could,' said Miss Mohun sympathetically; 'but I am afraid
you must resign yourself to helping us instead.'

'Oh, Aunt Jane, I did not mean to grumble. It can't be helped, and
you are very kind.'

'Oh, dear!' said poor Miss Jane afterwards in private to her sister,
'how I hate being told I am very kind! It just means, "You are a not
quite intolerable jailor and despot," with fairly good intentions.'

'I am sure you are kindness itself, dear Jenny,' responded Miss
Adeline. 'I am glad they own it! But it is very inconvenient and
unlucky that that unjustifiable mother should have sent her child to
the party to carry the whooping-cough to poor little Primrose, and
Mysie, and Phyllis.'

'All at one fell swoop! As for Primrose, the worthy Halfpenny is
quite enough for her, and Lily is well out of it; but Fly is a little
shrimp, overdone all round, and I don't like the notion of it for
her.'

'And Rotherwood is so wrapped up in her. Poor dear fellow, I hope
all will go well with her.'

'There is no reason it should not. Delicate children often have it
the most lightly. But I am sorry for Gillian, though, if she would
let us, I think we could make her happy.'

Gillian meantime, after her first fit of sick longing for her brother
and sister, and sense of disappointment, was finding some consolation
in the reflection that had Jasper discovered her instructions to
Alexis White, he would certainly have 'made no end of a row about
it,' and have laughed to scorn the bare notion of her teaching Greek
to a counting-house clerk! But then Jasper was wont to grumble and
chafe at all employments---especially beneficent ones---that interfered
with devotion to his lordly self, and on the whole, perhaps he was
safer out of the way, as he might have set on the aunts to put a stop
to her proceedings. Of Mysie's sympathy she was sure, yet she would
have her scruples about the aunts, and she was a sturdy person, hard
to answer---poor Mysie, whooping away helplessly in the schoolroom at
Rotherwood! Gillian felt herself heroically good-humoured and
resigned. Moreover, here was the Indian letter so long looked for,
likely by its date to be an answer to the information as to Alexis
White's studies. Behold, it did not appear to touch on the subject
at all! It was all about preparations for the double wedding,
written in scraps by different hands, at different times, evidently
snatched from many avocations and much interruption. Of mamma there
was really least of all; but squeezed into a corner, scarcely
legible, Gillian read, 'As to lessons, if At. J. approves.' It was
evidently an afterthought; and Gillian _could_, and chose to refer it
to a certain inquiry about learning the violin, which had never been
answered---for the confusion that reigned at Columbo was plainly
unfavourable to attending to minute details in home letters.

The longest portions of the despatch were papa's, since he was still
unable to move about. He wrote:---'Our two "young men" think it
probable you will have invitations from their kith and kin. If this
comes to pass, you had better accept them, though you will not like
to break up the Christmas party at Beechcroft Court.'

There being no Christmas party at Beechcroft Court, Gillian, in spite
of her distaste to new people, was not altogether sorry to receive a
couple of notes by the same post, the first enclosed in the second,
both forwarded from thence.

'VALE LESTON PRIORY,
'9th December.

'MY DEAR MISS MERRIFIELD---We are very anxious to make acquaintance
with my brother Bernard's new belongings, since we cannot greet our
new sister Phyllis ourselves. We always have a family gathering at
Christmas between this house and the Vicarage, and we much hope that
you and your brother will join it. Could you not meet my sister,
Mrs. Grinstead, in London, and travel down with her on the 23rd? I
am sending this note to her, as I think she has some such proposal to
make.---Yours very sincerely,
'WILMET U. HAREWOOD.'

The other letter was thus---

'BROMPTON, 10th December.

'MY DEAR GILLIAN---It is more natural to call you thus, as you are
becoming a sort of relation---very unwillingly, I dare say---for "in
this storm I too have lost a brother." However, we will make the
best of it, and please don't hate us more than you can help. Since
your own home is dispersed for the present, it seems less outrageous
to ask you to spend a Christmas Day among new people, and I hope we
may make you feel at home with us, and that you will enjoy our
beautiful church at Vale Leston. We are so many that we may be less
alarming if you take us by driblets, so perhaps it will be the best
way if you will come up to us on the 18th or 19th, and go down with
us on the 23rd. You will find no one with us but my nephew---almost
son---Gerald Underwood, and my niece, Anna Vanderkist, who will be
delighted to make friends with your brother Jasper, who might perhaps
meet you here. You must tell me all about Phyllis, and what she
would like best for her Cingalese home.---Yours affectionately,

GERALDINE GRINSTEAD.

Thus then affairs shaped themselves. Gillian was to take Fergus to
London, where Jasper would meet them at the station, and put the
little boy into the train for Coalham, whither his brother Wilfred
had preceded him by a day or two.

Jasper and Gillian would then repair to Brompton for two or three
days before going down with Mr. and Mrs. Grinstead to Vale Leston,
and they were to take care to pay their respects to old Mrs.
Merrifield, who had become too infirm to spend Christmas at
Stokesley.

What was to happen later was uncertain, whether they were to go to
Stokesley, or whether Jasper would join his brothers at Coalham, or
come down to Rockstone with his sister for the rest of the holidays.
Valetta must remain there, and it did not seem greatly to distress
her; and whereas nothing had been said about children, she was better
satisfied to stay within reach of Kitty and mamma, and the Christmas-
trees that began to dawn on the horizon, than to be carried into an
unknown region of 'grown-ups.'

While Gillian was not only delighted at the prospect of meeting
Jasper, her own especial brother, but was heartily glad to make a
change, and defer the entire question of lessons, confessions, and
G.F.S. for six whole weeks. She might get a more definite answer
from her parents, or something might happen to make explanation to
her aunt either unnecessary or much more easy---and she was safe from
discovery. But examinations had yet to be passed.

CHAPTER X. AUT CAESAR AUT NIHIL

Examinations were the great autumn excitement. Gillian was going up
for the higher Cambridge, and Valetta's form was under preparation
for competition for a prize in languages. The great Mr. White, on
being asked to patronise the High School at its first start, four
years ago, had endowed it with prizes for each of the four forms for
the most proficient in two tongues.

As the preparation became more absorbing, brows were puckered and
looks were anxious, and the aunts were doubtful as to the effect upon
the girls' minds or bodies. It was too late, however, to withdraw
them, and Miss Mohun could only insist on air and exercise, and
permit no work after the seven-o'clock tea.

She was endeavouring to chase cobwebs from the brains of the students
by the humours of Mrs. Nickleby, when a message was brought that Miss
Leverett, the head-mistress of the High School, wished to speak to
her in the dining-room. This was no unusual occurrence, as Miss
Mohun was secretary to the managing committee of the High School.
But on the announcement Valetta began to fidget, and presently said
that she was tired and would go to bed. The most ordinary effect of
fatigue upon this young lady was to make her resemble the hero of the
nursery poem---

'I do not want to go to bed,
Sleepy little Harry said.'

Nevertheless, this willingness excited no suspicion, till Miss Mohun
came to the door to summon Valetta.

'Is there anything wrong!' exclaimed sister and niece together.

'Gone to bed! Oh! I'll tell you presently. Don't you come,
Gillian.'

She vanished again, leaving Gillian in no small alarm and vexation.

'I wonder what it can be,' mused Aunt Ada.

'I shall go and find out!' said Gillian, jumping up, as she heard a
door shut upstairs.

'No, don't,' said Aunt Ada, 'you had much better not interfere.'

'It is my business to see after my own sister,' returned Gillian
haughtily.

'I see what you mean, my dear,' said her aunt, stretching out her
hand, kindly; 'but I do not think you can do any good. If she is in
a scrape, you have nothing to do with the High School management, and
for you to burst in would only annoy Miss Leverett and confuse the
affair. Oh, I know your impulse of defence, dear Gillian; but the
time has not come yet, and you can't have any reasonable doubt that
Jane will be just, nor that your mother would wish that you should be
quiet about it.'

'But suppose there is some horrid accusation against her!' said
Gillian hotly.

'But, dear child, if you don't know anything about it, how can you
defend her?'

'I ought to know!'

'So you will in time; but the more people there are present, the more
confusion there is, and the greater difficulty in getting at the
rights of anything.''

More by her caressing tone of sympathy than by actual arguments,
Adeline did succeed in keeping Gillian in the drawing-room, though
not in pacifying her, till doors were heard again, and something so
like Valetta crying as she went upstairs, that Gillian was neither to
have nor to hold, and made a dash out of the room, only to find her
aunt and the head-mistress exchanging last words in the hall, and as
she was going to brush past them, Aunt Jane caught her hand, and
said---

'Wait a moment, Gillian; I want to speak to you.'

There was no getting away, but she was very indignant. She tugged at
her aunt's hand more than perhaps she knew, and there was something
of a flouncing as she flung into the drawing-room and demanded---

'Well, what have you been doing to poor little Val?'

'We have done nothing,' said Miss Mohun quietly. 'Miss Leverett
wanted to ask her some questions. Sit down, Gillian. You had
better hear what I have to say before going to her. Well, it appears
that there has been some amount of cribbing in the third form.'

'I'm sure Val never would,' broke out Gillian. And her aunt
answered---

'So was I; but---'

'Oh---'

'My dear, do hush,' pleaded Adeline. 'You must let yourself listen.'

Gillian gave a desperate twist, but let her aunt smooth her hand.

'All the class---almost---seem to have done it in some telegraphic way,
hard to understand,' proceeded Aunt Jane. 'There must have been some
stupidity on the part of the class-mistress, Miss Mellon, or it could
not have gone on; but there has of late been a strong suspicion of
cribbing in Caesar in Valetta's class. They had got rather
behindhand, and have been working up somewhat too hard and fast to
get through the portion for examination. Some of them translated too
well--used terms for the idioms that were neither literal, nor could
have been forged by their small brains; so there was an examination,
and Georgie Purvis was detected reading off from the marks on the
margin of her notebook.'

'But what has that to do with Val?'

'Georgie, being had up to Miss Leverett, made the sort of confession
that implicates everybody.'

'Then why believe her?' muttered Gillian. But her aunt went on---

'She said that four or five of them did it, from the notes that
Valetta Merrifield brought to school.'

'Never!' interjected Gillian.

'She said,' continued Miss Mohun, 'it was first that they saw her
helping Maura White, and they thought that was not fair, and insisted
on her doing the same for them.'

'It can't be true! Oh, don't believe it!' cried the sister.

'I grieve to remind you that I showed you in the drawer in the
dining-room chiffonier a translation of that very book of Caesar that
your mother and I made years ago, when she was crazy upon
Vercingetorix.'

'But was that reason enough for laying it upon poor Val?'

'She owned it.'

There was a silence, and then Gillian said---

'She must have been frightened, and not known what she was saying.'

'She was frightened, but she was very straightforward, and told
without any shuffling. She saw the old copy-books when I was showing
you those other remnants of our old times, and one day it seems she
was in a great puzzle over her lessons, and could get no help or
advice, because none of us had come in. I suppose you were with
Lilian, and she thought she might just look at the passage. She
found Maura in the same difficulty, and helped her; and then Georgie
Purvis and Nelly Black found them out, and threatened to tell unless
she showed them her notes; but the copying whole phrases was only
done quite of late in the general over-hurry.'

'She must have been bullied into it,' cried Gillian. 'I shall go and
see about her.'

Aunt Ada made a gesture as of deprecation; but Aunt Jane let her go
without remonstrance, merely saying as the door closed---

'Poor child! Esprit de famille!'

'Will it not be very bad for Valetta to be petted and pitied?'

'I don't know. At any rate, we cannot separate them at night, so it
is only beginning it a little sooner; and whatever I say only
exasperates Gillian the more. Poor little Val, she had not a formed
character enough to be turned loose into a High School without Mysie
to keep her in order.'

'Or Gillian.'

'I am not so sure of Gillian. There's something amiss, though I
can't make out whether it is merely that I rub her down the wrong
way. I wonder whether this holiday time will do us good or harm!
At any rate, I know how Lily felt about Dolores.'

'It must have been that class-mistress's fault.'

'To a great degree; but Miss Leverett has just discovered that her
cleverness does not compensate for a general lack of sense and
discipline. Poor little Val---perhaps it is her turning-point!'

Gillian, rushing up in a boiling state of indignation against
everybody, felt the family shame most acutely of all; and though, as
a Merrifield, she defended her sister below stairs, on the other hand
she was much more personally shocked and angered at the disgrace than
were her aunts, and far less willing to perceive any excuse for the
culprit.

There was certainly no petting or pitying in her tone as she stood
over the little iron bed, where the victim was hiding her head on her
pillow.

'Oh, Valetta, how could you do such a thing? The Merrifields have
never been so disgraced before!'

'Oh, don't, Gill! Aunt Jane and Miss Leverett were---not so angry---
when I said---I was sorry.'

'But what will papa and mamma say?'

'Must they---must they hear?'

'You would not think of deceiving them, I hope.'

'Not deceiving, only not telling.'

'That comes to much the same.'

'You can't say anything, Gill, for you are always down at Kal's
office, and nobody knows.'

This gave Gillian a great shock, but she rallied, and said with
dignity, 'Do you think I do not write to mamma everything I do?'

It sufficed for the immediate purpose of annihilating Valetta, who
had just been begging off from letting mamma hear of her proceedings;
but it left Gillian very uneasy as to how much the child might know
or tell, and this made her proceed less violently, and more
persuasively, 'Whatever I do, I write to mamma; and besides, it is
different with a little thing like you, and your school work. Come,
tell me how you got into this scrape.'

'Oh, Gill, it was so hard! All about those tiresome Gauls, and there
were bits when the nominative case would go and hide itself, and
those nasty tenses one doesn't know how to look out, and I knew I was
making nonsense, and you were out of the way, and there was nobody to
help; and I knew mamma's own book was there---the very part too---
because Aunt Jane had shown it to us, so I did not think there was
any harm in letting her help me out of the muddle.'

'Ah! that was the beginning.'

'If you had been in, I would not have done it. You know Aunt Jane
said there was no harm in giving a clue, and this was mamma.'

'But that was not all.'

'Well, then, there was Maura first, as much puzzled, and her brother
is so busy he hasn't as much time for her as he used to have, and it
does signify to her, for perhaps if she does not pass, Mr. White may
not let her go on at the High School, and that would be too dreadful,
for you know you said I was to do all I could for Maura. So I marked
down things for her and she copied them off, and then Georgie and
Nelly found it out, and, oh! they were dreadful! I never knew it was
wrong till they went at me. And they were horrid to Maura, and said
she was a Greek and I a Maltese, and so we were both false, and
cheaty, and sly, and they should tell Miss Leverett unless I would
help them.'

'Oh! Valetta, why didn't you tell me?'

'I never get to speak to you, said Val. 'I did think I would that
first time, and ask you what to do, but then you came in late, and
when I began something, you said you had your Greek to do, and told
me to hold my tongue.'

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