Chapter 20 Girls of the True Blue by L. T. Meade
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.