Beechcroft at Rockstone

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

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'The other only spoke yesterday, having abstained from worrying his
General. He is Lord Francis Somerville, son to Lord Liddesdale, and
a captain in the Glen Lorn Highlanders, who have not above a couple
of years to stay in these parts. He was with the riding party when
Jasper fell, and was the first to lift him; indeed, he held him all
the time of waiting, for poor Claude trembled too much. He was an
immense help through the nursing, and they came to know and depend on
him as nothing else would have made them do; and they proved how
sincerely right-minded and good he is. There is some connection with
the Underwoods, though I have not quite fathomed it. There is no
fear about home consent, for it seems that he is given to outpourings
to his mother, and had heard that if he thought of Sir Jasper
Merrifield's daughter his parents would welcome her, knowing what Sir
J. is. There's for you! considering that we have next to nothing to
give the child, and Frank has not much fortune, but Alethea is
trained to the soldierly life, and they will be better off than
Jasper and I were.

'The worst of it is leaving them behind; and as neither of the
gentlemen can afford a journey home, we mean to have the double
wedding before Lent. As to outfit, the native tailors must be
chiefly trusted to, or the stores at Calcutta, and I must send out
the rest when I come home. Only please send by post my wedding veil
(Gillian knows where it is), together with another as like it as may
be. Any slight lace decorations to make us respectable which suggest
themselves to you and her might come; I can't recollect or mention
them now. I wish Reginald could come and tell you all, but the poor
fellow has to go home full pelt about those Irish. Jasper is writing
to William, and you must get business particulars from him, and let
Gillian and the little ones hear, for there is hardly any time to
write. Phyllis, being used to the idea, is very quiet and matter-of-
fact about it. She hoped, indeed, that I guessed nothing till I was
satisfied about papa, and had had time to rest. Alethea is in a much
more April condition, and I am glad Frank waited till I was here on
her account and on her father's. He is going on well, but must keep
still. He declares that being nursed by two pair of lovers is highly
amusing. However, such homes being found for two of the tribe is a
great relief to his mind. I suppose it is to one's rational mind,
though it is a terrible tug at one's heart-strings. You shall hear
again by the next mail. A brown creature waits to take this to be
posted.---
Your loving sister,
L. M.'

Gillian came down to dinner quite pale, and to Aunt Ada's kind 'Well,
Gillian?' she could only repeat, 'It is horrid.'

'It is hard to lose all the pretty double wedding,' said Aunt Ada.

'Gillian does not mean that,' hastily put in Miss Mohun.

'Oh no,' said Gillian; 'that would be worse than anything.'

'So you think,' said Aunt Jane; 'but believe those who have gone
through it all, my dear, when the wrench is over, one feels the
benefit.'

Gillian shook her head, and drank water. Her aunts went on talking,
for they thought it better that she should get accustomed to the
prospect; and, moreover, they were so much excited that they could
hardly have spoken of anything else. Aunt Jane wondered if Phyllis's
betrothed were a brother of Mr. Underwood of St. Matthew's,
Whittingtown, with whom she had corresponded about the consumptive
home; and Aunt Ada regretted the not having called on Lady Liddesdale
when she had spent some weeks at Rockstone, and consoled herself by
recollecting that Lord Rotherwood would know all about the family.
She had already looked it out in the Peerage, and discovered that
Lord Francis Cunningham Somerville was the only younger son, that his
age was twenty-nine, and that he had three sisters, all married, as
well as his elder brother, who had children enough to make it
improbable that Alethea would ever be Lady Liddesdale. She would
have shown Gillian the record, but received the ungracious answer,
'I hate swells.'

'Let her alone, Ada,' said Aunt Jane; 'it is a very sore business.
She will be better by and by.'

There ensued a little discussion how the veil at Silverfold was to be
hunted up, or if Gillian and her aunt must go to do so.

'Can you direct Miss Vincent?' asked Miss Mohun.

'No, I don't think I could; besides, I don't like to set any one to
poke and meddle in mamma's drawers.'

'And she could hardly judge what could be available,' added Miss Ada.

'Gillian must go to find it,' said Aunt Jane; 'and let me see, when
have I a day? Saturday is never free, and Monday--I could ask Mrs.
Hablot to take the cutting out, and then I could look up Lily's
Brussels---'

There she caught a sight of Gillian's face. Perhaps one cause of the
alienation the girl felt for her aunt was, that there was a certain
kindred likeness between them which enabled each to divine the
other's inquiring disposition, though it had different effects on the
elder and younger character. Jane Mohun suspected that she had on
her ferret look, and guessed that Gillian's disgusted air meant that
the idea of her turning over Lady Merrifield's drawers was almost as
distasteful as that of the governess's doing it.

'Suppose Gillian goes down on Monday with Fanny,' she said. 'She
could manage very well, I am sure.'

Gillian cleared up a little. There is much consolation in being of a
little importance, and she liked the notion of a day at home, a quiet
day, as she hoped in her present mood, of speaking to nobody. Her
aunt let her have her own way, and only sent a card to Macrae to
provide for meeting and for food, not even letting Miss Vincent know
that she was coming. That feeling of not being able to talk about it
or be congratulated would wear off, Aunt Jane said, if she was not
worried or argued with, in which case it might become perverse
affectation.

It certainly was not shared by the children. Sisters unseen for
three years could hardly be very prominent in their minds. Fergus
hoped that they would ride to the wedding upon elephants, and Valetta
thought it very hard to miss the being a bridesmaid, when Kitty
Varley had already enjoyed the honour. However, she soon began to
glorify herself on the beauty of Alethea's future title.

'What will Kitty Varley and all say?' was her cry.

'Nothing, unless they are snobs, as girls always are,' said Fergus.

'It is not a nice word,' said Miss Adeline.

'But there's nothing else that expresses it, Aunt Ada,' returned
Gillian.

'I agree to a certain degree,' said Miss Mohun; 'but still I am not
sure what it does express.'

'Just what girls of that sort are,' said Gillian. 'Mere worshippers
of any sort of handle to one's name.'

'Gillian, Gillian, you are not going in for levelling,' cried Aunt
Adeline.

'No,' said Gillian; 'but I call it snobbish to make more fuss about
Alethea's concern than Phyllis's---just because he calls himself
Lord--'

'That is to a certain degree true,' said Miss Mohun. 'The worth of
the individual man stands first of all, and nothing can be sillier or
in worse taste than to parade one's grand relations.'

'To parade, yes,' said Aunt Adeline; 'but there is no doubt that good
connections are a great advantage.'

'Assuredly,' said Miss Mohun. 'Good birth and an ancestry above
shame are really a blessing, though it has come to be the fashion to
sneer at them. I do not mean merely in the eyes of the world, though
it is something to have a name that answers for your relations being
respectable. But there are such things as hereditary qualities, and
thus testimony to the existence of a distinguished forefather is
worth having.'

'Lily's dear old Sir Maurice de Mohun to wit,' said Miss Adeline.
'You know she used to tease Florence by saying the Barons of
Beechcroft had a better pedigree than the Devereuxes.'

'I'd rather belong to the man who made himself,' said Gillian.

'Well done, Gill! But though your father won his own spurs, you
can't get rid of his respectable Merrifield ancestry wherewith he
started in life.'

'I don't want to. I had rather have them than horrid robber
Borderers, such as no doubt these Liddesdale people were.'

There was a little laughing at this; but Gillian was saying in her
own mind that it was a fine thing to be one's own Rodolf of Hapsburg,
and in that light she held Captain White, who, in her present state
of mind, she held to have been a superior being to all the
Somervilles---perhaps to all the Devereuxes who ever existed.

CHAPTER VII. AN EMPTY NEST

There had been no injunctions of secrecy, and though neither Miss
Mohun nor Gillian had publicly mentioned the subject, all Rockquay
who cared for the news knew by Sunday morning that Lady Merrifield's
two elder daughters were engaged.

Gillian, in the course of writing her letters, had become somewhat
familiarised with the idea, and really looked forward to talking it
over with Kalliope. Though that young person could hardly be termed
Alethea's best friend, it was certain that Alethea stood foremost
with her, and that her interest in the matter would be very loving.

Accordingly, Kalliope was at the place of meeting even before
Gillian, and anxiously she looked as she said---

'May I venture---may I ask if it is true?'

'True? Oh yes, Kally, I knew you would care.'

'Indeed, I well may. There is no expressing how much I owe to dear
Miss Alethea and Lady Merrifield, and it is such a delight to hear of
them.'

Accordingly, Gillian communicated the facts as she knew them, and
offered to give any message.

'Only my dear love and congratulations,' said Kalliope, with a little
sigh. 'I should like to have written, but---'

'But why don't you, then?'

'Oh no; she would be too much engaged to think of us, and it would
only worry her to be asked for her advice.'

'I think I know what it is about,' said Gillian.

'How? Oh, how do you know? Did Mr. Flight say anything?'

'Mr. Flight?' exclaimed Gillian. 'What has he to do with it?'

'It was foolish, perhaps; but I did hope he might have helped Alexis,
and now he seems only to care for his music.'

'Helped him! How?"

'Perhaps it was unreasonable, but Alexis has always been to good
schools. He was getting on beautifully at Leeds, and we thought he
would have gained a scholarship and gone on to be a clergyman. That
was what his mind has always been fixed upon. You cannot think how
good and devoted he is,' said Kalliope with a low trembling voice;
'and my father wished it very much too. But when the break-up came,
Mr. White made our not being too fine, as he said, to work, a sort of
condition of doing anything for us. Mr. Moore did tell him what
Alexis is, but I believe he thought it all nonsense, and there was
nothing to be done. Alexis--dear fellow---took it so nicely, said he
was thankful to be able to help mother, and if it was his duty and
God's will, it was sure to come right; and he has been plodding away
at the marble works ever since, quite patiently and resolutely, but
trying to keep up his studies in the evening, only now he has worked
through all his old school-books.'

'And does not Mr. Flight know that I will help him?'

'Well, Mr. Flight means to be kind, and sometimes seems to think much
of him; but it is all for his music, I am afraid. He is always
wanting new things to be learnt and practised, and those take up so
much time; and though he does lend us books, they are of no use for
study, though they only make the dear boy long and long the more to
get on.'

'Does not Mr. Flight know?'

'I am not sure. I think he does; but in his ardour for music he
seems to forget all about it. It does seem such a pity that all
Alexis's time should be wasted in this drudgery. If I could only be
sure of more extra work for my designs, I could set him free; and if
Sir Jasper were only at home, I am sure he would put the boy in the
way of earning his education. If it were only as a pupil teacher, he
would be glad, but then he says he ought not to throw all on me.'

'Oh, he must be very good!' exclaimed Gillian. 'I am sure papa will
help him! I wish I could. Oh!'---with a sudden recollection---'I
wonder what books he wants most. I am going to Silverfold to-morrow,
and there are lots of old school-books there of the boys', doing
nothing, that I know he might have.'

'Oh, Miss Gillian, how good of you! How delighted he would be!'

'Do you know what he wants most?'

'A Greek grammar and lexicon most of all,' was the ready answer. 'He
has been trying to find them at the second-hand shop ever so long,
but I am afraid there is no hope of a lexicon. They are so large and
expensive.'

'I think there is an old one of Jasper's, if he would not mind its
back being off, and lots of blots.'

'He would mind nothing. Oh, Miss Gillian, you can't think how happy
he will be.

'If there is anything else he wants very much, how could he let me
know?' mused Gillian. 'Oh, I see! What time are you at the works?'

'Alex is there at seven; I don't go till nine.'

'I am to be at the station at 8.40. Could you or Maura meet me there
and tell me?'

To this Kalliope agreed, for she said she could be sure of getting to
her post in time afterwards, and she seemed quite overjoyed. No one
could look at her without perceiving that Alexis was the prime
thought of her heart, and Gillian delighted her by repeating Aunt
Adeline's admiration of his profile, and the general opinion of his
singing.

'I am so sorry you have had to give it up,' she added.

'It can't be helped,' Kalliope said; 'and I really have no time.'

'But that's not all,' said Gillian, beginning to blush herself.

'0h! I hope there's no gossip or nonsense about _that_,' cried
Kalliope, her cheeks flaming.

'Only---'

'Not Maura? Naughty little girl, I did not think she knew anything.
Not that there is anything to tell,' said Kalliope, much distressed;
'but it is dreadful that there should be such talk.'

'I thought it was _that_ you meant when you said you wanted advice.'

'No one could advise me, I am afraid,' said the girl. 'If we could
only go away from this place! But that's impossible, and I dare say
the fancy will soon go off!'

'Then you don't care for him?'

'My dear Miss Gillian, when I have seen _gentlemen_!' said Kalliope,
in a tone that might have cured her admirer.

They had, however, talked longer than usual, and the notes of the
warning bell came up, just when Gillian had many more questions to
ask, and she had to run down the garden all in a glow with eagerness
and excitement, so that Aunt Ada asked if she had been standing in
the sea wind. Her affirmative was true enough, and yet she was
almost ashamed of it, as not the whole truth, and there was a
consciousness about her all the afternoon which made her soon regret
that conversation was chiefly absorbed by the younger one's
lamentations that they were not to accompany her to Silverfold, and
by their commissions. Fergus wanted a formidable amount of precious
tools, and inchoate machines, which Mrs. Halfpenny had regarded as
'mess,' and utterly refused to let his aunts be 'fashed' with; while
Valetta's orders were chiefly for the visiting all the creatures, so
as to bring an exact account of the health and spirits of Rigdum
Funnidos, etc., also for some favourite story-books which she wished
to lend to Kitty Varley and Maura White.

'For do you know, Gill, Maura has never had a new story-book since
mamma gave her Little Alice and her Sister, when she was seven years
old! Do bring her Stories They Tell Me, and On Angel's Wings.'

'But is not that Mysie's?'

'Oh yes, but I know Mysie would let her have it. Mysie always let
Maura have everything of hers, because the boys teased her.'

'I will bring it; but I think Mysie ought to be written to before it
is lent.'

'That is right, Gillian,' said Miss Mohun; 'it is always wiser to be
above-board when dealing with other people's things, even in
trifles.'

Why did this sound like a reproach, and as if it implied suspicion
that Gillian was not acting on that principle? She resented the
feeling. She knew she might do as she liked with the boys' old
books, for which they certainly had no affection, and which indeed
her mother had talked of offering to some of those charities which
have a miscellaneous appetite, and wonderful power of adaptation of
the disused. Besides, though no one could have the least objection
to their being bestowed on the Whites, the very fact of this being
her third secret meeting with Kalliope was beginning to occasion an
awkwardness in accounting for her knowledge of their needs. It was
obvious to ask why she had not mentioned the first meeting, and this
her pride would not endure. She had told her parents by letter.
What more could be desired?

Again, when she would not promise to see either Miss Vincent or the
Miss Hackets, because 'she did not want to have a fuss,' Aunt Jane
said she thought it a pity, with regard at least to the governess,
who might feel herself hurt at the neglect, 'and needless secrets are
always unadvisable.'

Gillian could hardly repress a wriggle, but her Aunt Ada laughed,
saying, 'Especially with you about, Jenny, for you always find them
out.'

At present, however, Miss Mohun certainly had no suspicion. Gillian
was very much afraid she would think proper to come to the station in
the morning; but she was far too busy, and Gillian started off in the
omnibus alone with Mrs. Mount in handsome black silk trim, to be
presented to Mr. Macrae, and much enjoying the trip, having been well
instructed by Fergus and Valetta in air that she was to see.

Kalliope was descried as the omnibus stopped, and in a few seconds
Gillian had shaken hands with her, received the note, and heard the
ardent thanks sent from Alexis, and which the tattered books---even if
they proved to be right---would scarcely deserve. He would come with
his sister to receive the parcel at the station on Gillian's return---
at 5.29, an offer which obviated any further difficulties as to
conveyance.

Mrs. Mount was intent upon the right moment to run the gauntlet for
the tickets; and had it been otherwise, would have seen nothing
remarkable in her charge being accosted by a nice-looking ladylike
girl. So on they rushed upon their way, Gillian's spirits rising in
a curious sense of liberty and holiday-making.

In due time they arrived, and were received by Macrae with the pony
carriage, while the trees of Silverfold looked exquisite in their
autumn red, gold, and brown.

But the dreariness of the deserted house, with no one on the steps
but Quiz, and all the furniture muffled in sheets, struck Gillian
more than she had expected, though the schoolroom had been wakened up
for her, a bright fire on the hearth, and the cockatoo highly
conversational, the cats so affectionate that it was difficult to
take a step without stumbling over one of them.

When the business had all been despatched, the wedding veil
disinterred, and the best Brussels and Honiton safely disposed in a
box, when an extremely dilapidated and much-inked collection of
school-books had been routed out of the backstairs cupboard (commonly
called Erebus) and duly packed, when a selection of lighter
literature had been made with a view both to Valetta and Lilian; when
Gillian had shown all she could to Mrs. Mount, visited all the
animals, gone round the garden, and made two beautiful posies of
autumn flowers, one for her little sister and the other for Kalliope,
discovered that Fergus's precious machine had been ruthlessly made
away with, but secured his tools,---she found eating partridge in
solitary grandeur rather dreary work, though she had all the bread-
sauce to herself, and cream to her apple tart, to say nothing of
Macrae, waiting upon her as if she had been a duchess, and conversing
in high exultation upon the marriages, only regretting that one
gentleman should be a civilian; he had always augured that all his
young ladies would be in the Service, and begging that he might be
made aware of the wedding-day, so as to have the bells rung.

To express her own feelings to the butler was not possible, and his
glee almost infected her. She was quite sorry when, having placed a
choice of pears and October peaches before her, he went off to
entertain Mrs. Mount; and after packing a substratum of the fruit in
the basket for the Whites, she began almost to repent of having
insisted on not returning to Rockstone till the four o'clock train,
feeling her solitary liberty oppressive; and finally she found
herself walking down the drive in search of Miss Vincent.

She had to confess to herself that her aunt was quite right, and that
the omission would have been a real unkindness, when she saw how worn
and tired the governess looked, and the brightness that flashed over
the pale face at sight of her. Mrs. Vincent had been much worse, and
though slightly better for the present was evidently in a critical
state, very exhausting to her daughter.

Good Miss Hacket at that moment came in to sit with her, and send the
daughter out for some air; and it was well that Gillian had had some
practice in telling her story not too disconsolately, for it was
received with all the delight that the mere notion of a marriage
seems to inspire, though Phyllis and Alethea had scarcely been seen
at Silverfold before they had gone to India with their father.

Miss Hacket had to be content with the names before she hastened up
to the patient; but Miss Vincent walked back through the paddock with
Gillian, talking over what was more personally interesting to the
governess, the success of her own pupils, scattered as they were, and
comparing notes upon Mysie's letters. One of these Miss Vincent had
just received by the second post, having been written to announce the
great news, and it continued in true Mysie fashion:---

'Cousin Rotherwood knows all about them, and says they will have a
famous set of belongings. He will take me to see some of them if we
go to London before mamma comes home. Bernard Underwood's sister is
married to Mr. Grinstead, the sculptor who did the statue of Mercy at
the Gate that Harry gave a photograph of to mamma, and she paints
pictures herself. I want to see them; but I do not know whether we
shall stay in London, for they do not think it agrees with Fly. I do
more lessons than she does now, and I have read through all Autour de
mon Jardin. I have a letter from Dolores too, and she thinks that
Aunt Phyllis and all are coming home to make a visit in England for
Uncle Harry to see his father, and she wishes very much that they
would bring her; but it is not to be talked about for fear they
should be hindered, and old Dr. May hear of it and be disappointed;
but you won't see any one to tell.'

'There, what have I done?' exclaimed Miss Vincent in dismay. 'But I
had only just got the letter, and had barely glanced through it.'

'Besides, who would have thought of Mysie having any secrets?' said
Gillian.

'After all, I suppose no harm is done; for you can't have any other
connection with these Mays.'

'Oh yes, there will be; for I believe a brother of this man of
Phyllis's married one of the Miss Mays, and I suppose we shall have
to get mixed up with the whole lot. How I do hate strangers! But
I'll take care, Miss Vincent, indeed I will. One is not bound to
tell one's aunts everything like one's mother.'

'No,' said Miss Vincent decidedly, 'especially when it is another
person's secret betrayed through inadvertence.' Perhaps she thought
Gillian looked dangerously gratified, for she added: 'However, you
know poor Dolores did not find secrecy answer.'

'Oh, there are secrets and secrets, and aunts and aunts!' said
Gillian. 'Dolores had no mother.'

'It makes a difference,' said Miss Vincent. 'I should never ask you
to conceal anything from Lady Merrifield. Besides, this is not a
matter of conduct, only a report.'

Gillian would not pursue the subject. Perhaps she was a little
disingenuous with her conscience, for she wanted to carry off the
impression that Miss Vincent had pronounced concealment from her
aunts to be justifiable; and she knew at the bottom of her heart that
her governess would condemn a habit of secret intimacy with any one
being carried on without the knowledge of her hostess and guardian
for the time being,---above all when it was only a matter, of waiting.

It is a fine thing for self-satisfaction to get an opinion without
telling the whole of the facts of the case, and Gillian went home in
high spirits, considerably encumbered with parcels, and surprising
Mrs. Mount by insisting that two separate packages should be made of
the books.

Kalliope and Alexis were both awaiting her at the station, their
gratitude unbounded, and finding useful vent by the latter fetching a
cab and handing in the goods.

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