The Shuttle & The Making of a Marchioness. Frances Hodgson Burnett

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ don’t know of any reason for my being particularly fond of her,” she said. “It’s easy enough for a rich woman to be goodnatured. It doesn’t cost her enough to constitute a claim.”

      Osborn helped himself to a stiff whiskey and soda. They went back to The Kennel Farm the next day, and though it was his habit to consume a large number of “pegs” daily, the habit increased until there were not many hours in the day when he was normally sure of what he was doing.

      The German baths to which Lady Walderhurst had gone were nearer to Palstrey than any one knew. They were only at a few hours’ distance by rail.

      When, after a day spent in a quiet London lodging, Mrs. Cupp returned to her mistress with the information that she had been to the house in Mortimer Street and found that the widow who had bought the lease and furniture was worn out with ill-luck and the uncertainty of lodgers, and only longed for release which was not ruin, Emily cried a little for joy.

      “Oh, how I should like to be there!” she said. “It was such a dear house. No one would ever dream of my being in it. And I need have no one but you and Jane. I should be so safe and quiet. Tell her you have a friend who will take it, as it is, for a year, and pay her anything.”

      “I won’t tell her quite that, my lady,” Mrs. Cupp made sagacious answer. “I’ll make her an offer in ready money down, and no questions asked by either of us. People in her position sometimes gets a sudden let that pays them better than lodgers. All classes has their troubles, and sometimes a decent house is wanted for a few months, where money can be paid. I’ll make her an offer.”

      The outcome of which was that the widowed householder walked out of her domicile the next morning with a heavier purse and a lighter mind than she had known for many months. The same night, ingenuously oblivious of having been called upon to fill the role of a lady in genteel “trouble,” good and decorous Emily Walderhurst arrived under the cover of discreet darkness in a cab, and when she found herself in the “best bedroom,” which had once been so far beyond her means, she cried a little for joy again, because the four dull walls, the mahogany dressing-table, and ugly frilled pincushions looked so unmelodramatically normal and safe.

      “It seems so homelike,” she said; adding courageously, “it is a very comfortable place, really.”

      “We can make it much more cheerful, my lady,” Jane said, with grateful appreciation. “And the relief makes it like Paradise.” She was leaving the room and stopped at the door. “There’s not a person, black or white, can get across the door-mat, past mother and me, until his lordship comes,” she allowed herself the privilege of adding.

      Emily felt a little nervous when she pictured to herself Lord Walderhurst crossing the door-mat of a house in Mortimer Street in search of his Marchioness. She had not yet had time to tell him the story of the episode of the glass of milk and Hester Osborn’s sudden outburst. Every moment had been given to carefully managed arrangement for the journey which was to seem so natural. Hester’s cleverness had suggested every step and had supported her throughout. But for Hester she was afraid she might have betrayed herself. There had been no time for writing. But when James received her letter (of late she had more than once thought of him as “James”), he would know the one thing that was important. And she had asked him to come to her. She had apologised for suggesting any alteration of his plans, but she had really asked him to come to her.

      “I think he will come,” she said to herself. “I do think he will. I shall be so glad. Perhaps I have not been sensible, perhaps I have not done the best thing, but if I keep myself safe until he comes back, that really seems what is most important.”

      Two or three days in the familiar rooms, attended only by the two friendly creatures she knew so well, seemed to restore the balance of life for her. Existence became comfortable and prosaic again. The best bedroom and the room in which she spent her days were made quite cheerful through Jane’s enterprise and memories of the appointments of Palstrey. Jane brought her tea in the morning, Mrs. Cupp presided over the kitchen. The agreeable doctor, whose reputation they had heard so much of, came and went, leaving his patient feeling that she might establish a friendship. He looked so clever and so kind.

      She began to smile her childlike smile again. Mrs. Cupp and Jane told each other in private that if she had not been a married lady, they would have felt that she was Miss Fox-Seton again. She looked so like herself, with her fresh colour and her nice, cheerful eyes. And yet to think of the changes there had been, and what they had gone through!

      People in London know nothing—or everything—of their neighbours. The people who lived in Mortimer Street were of the hardworked lodging-house keeping class, and had too many anxieties connected with butcher’s bills, rent, and taxes, to be able to give much time to their neighbours. The life in the house which had changed hands had nothing noticeable about it. It looked from the outside as it had always looked. The doorsteps were kept clean, milk was taken in twice a day, and local tradesmen’s carts left things in the ordinary manner. A doctor occasionally called to see someone, and the only person who had inquired about the patient (she was a friendly creature, who met Mrs. Cupp at the grocer’s, and exchanged a few neighbourly words) was told that ladies who lived in furnished apartments, and had nothing to do, seemed to find an interest in seeing a doctor about things working-women had no time to bother about. Mrs. Cupp’s view seemed to be that doctor’s visits and medicine bottles furnished entertainment. Mrs. Jameson had “as good a colour and as good an appetite as you or me,” but she was one who “thought she caught cold easy,” and she was “afraid of fresh air.”

      Dr. Warren’s interest in the Extraordinary Case increased at each visit he made. He did not see the ruby ring again. When he had left the house after his first call, Mrs. Cupp had called Lady Walderhurst’s attention to the fact that the ring was on her hand, and could not be considered compatible with even a first floor front in Mortimer Street. Emily had been frightened and had removed it.

      “But the thing that upsets me when I hand him in,” Jane said to her mother anxiously in private, “is the way she can’t help looking. You know what I mean, mother,—her nice, free, good look. And we never could talk to her about it. We should have to let her know that it’s more than likely he thinks she’s just what she isn’t. It makes me mad to think of it. But as it had to be, if she only looked a little awkward, or not such a lady, or a bit uppish and fretful, she would seem so much more real. And then there’s another thing. You know she always did carry her head well, even when she was nothing but poor Miss Fox-Seton tramping about shopping with muddy feet. And now, having been a marchioness till she’s got used to it, and knowing that she is one, gives her an innocent, stately look sometimes. It’s a thing she doesn’t know of herself, but I do declare that sometimes as she’s sat there talking just as sweet as could be, I’ve felt as if I ought to say, ‘Oh! if you please, my lady, if you could look not quite so much as if you’d got on a tiara.’”

      “Ah!” and Mrs. Cupp shook her head, “but that’s what her Maker did for her. She was born just what she looks, and she looks just what she was born,—a respectable female.”

      Whereby Dr. Warren continued to feel himself baffled.

      “She only goes out for exercise after dark, Mary,” he said. “Also in the course of conversation I have discovered that she believes every word of the Bible literally, and would be alarmed if one could not accept the Athanasian Creed. She is rather wounded and puzzled by the curses it contains, but she feels sure that it would be wrong to question anything in the Church Service. Her extraordinariness is wholly her incompatibleness.”

      Gradually they had established the friendship Emily had thought possible. Once or twice Dr. Warren took tea with her. Her unabashed and accustomed readiness СКАЧАТЬ