Chapter 21 Girls of the True Blue by L. T. Meade
THE PICNIC
At breakfast next morning the children were in high spirits.
Augusta had awakened without any headache or any pricks of conscience. “Let Uncle Peter come now,” she said to herself; “I won’t be afraid of him.”
It happened to be a lovely morning, and the windows of the pretty breakfast-room were wide open. The gardener was mowing the grass on the tennis-lawn; the roses and other climbing flowers peeped in at the lattice-window, and sweet summer scents filled the room.
“Poor, poor darling mother,” exclaimed Kitty as she seated herself at the breakfast-tray; “how awfully fagged she must be! I do hope she will soon come back.”
“We ought not to wish her to come back too soon,” said Nora, who always happened to say just the right thing; “for if Mrs. Rashleigh is very sad mother can comfort her.”
“Do see what you are doing!” cried Augusta at that moment. “You have overfilled the teapot, and the tea is running out on the tray.”
Kitty laughed gleefully, and soon rectified her mistake, and the meal progressed, accompanied by gay remarks of all sorts.
“Uncle Peter ought to be here by eleven o’clock,” said Nora. “The train arrives at Fairlight at half-past ten; he is sure to come by it.”
“What are we to do to-day?” asked Augusta. “Have we any plans, girls? I think we might”——
“Oh! I know what you are going to say,” exclaimed Nora. “You want to go to see those tiresome Aspray girls. But we can’t do anything until Uncle Peter arrives. He will direct us, and we will do exactly what he wishes.”
“Tiresome man!” muttered Augusta under her breath. Aloud she said: “Pass me that brown scone, Nancy. And for goodness’ sake, child, don’t open your eyes so wide whenever I speak to you!”
“I tell you what it is,” said Nora—“I have lacked courage to say it for some days, but I will say it now—I do wish you would not scold Nancy whenever you speak to her.”
“I don’t; I know I don’t,” said Augusta.—”Do I scold you whenever I speak to you, Nancy, mignon?”
“I don’t mind,” said Nancy; and before anything else could be said the servant entered, bearing a note and also a telegram on a salver. She handed the telegram to Nora, and the note to Augusta.
“The messenger is waiting, miss,” said the girl, speaking to Nora.
“What can it mean?” cried Nora; while Kitty craned her neck forward to watch her sister as she read.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Nora; “how very provoking! It is from Uncle Pete. He says he cannot arrive before dinner-time.—There is no answer, thank you, Ellen.”
Ellen left the room, and Augusta now turned her attention to her note. She tore it open, and the next moment she exclaimed in great excitement:
“Oh, I say, this is jolly! Here is a line from Flora Aspray. They want us to join them all for a big picnic. They are going to Fairlight Towers—you know, that charming old ruin that we have always wanted to see. They are starting at eleven o’clock, and they ask us to meet them at the crossroads. They say they will have carriages enough to take us all, and we shall be back soon after dusk. Isn’t it quite too heavenly? Of course we will go—eh, Nora?—eh, Kitty?”
“I wish Uncle Peter were here,” said Kitty; “he would tell us whether it were right or wrong.”
“What folly! If Aunt Jessie were at home she would certainly allow us to go. Anyhow, I intend to go, whether you are silly or not.”
“I am sure it is not right, and I am sure mother would not like it,” said Kitty again. “May I look at Flora’s letter, please, Gussie?”
Augusta handed the letter across to her cousin.
“There is no mention of Mrs. Aspray. Flora seems to have asked us quite from herself,” said Kitty. “What do you say, Nora? What do you say, Nancy?”
“I don’t want to go at all. To be frank with you, Gussie, I don’t care for those girls,” said Nora.
“Well, you do like to spoil one’s pleasure whenever you can. I suppose there is nothing for it but for Nancy and me to go alone.”
“Must I go with you?” cried Nancy.
“Yes—certainly,” replied Augusta.
“She sha’n’t go unless she wishes to,” here interposed Kitty. “Why do you bully her? I think you are very unkind.”
“And I think you are all perfectly hateful!” said Augusta, who was red with passion. “Well,” she added, “have it your own way. I shall go by myself; I do not intend to miss the fun.”
She marched out of the room as she spoke, and the three other girls glanced at one another.
“Perhaps I had better go with her,” said Nancy. “What do you think, Kitty? It doesn’t matter so much for me, you know; I am not your real sister. I mean that Aunt Jessie would be more particular about you and what you did than about what I do.”
“You may go, of course, if you like,” said Kitty; “but you shall not go if you do not like. Gussie shall not make your life a burden to you.”
“I think I’ll go,” said Nancy. She rose very slowly and left the room.
“What a darling little thing she is!” said Kitty; “always so self-denying and so anxious to please others. Now, I know she is merely doing this to please Gussie; and why Gussie should be humoured at every turn is more than I can understand. Nancy would have enjoyed a long, quiet, happy day with us; and why should she make herself perfectly miserable?”
“Augusta has a power over her which I can never understand,” replied Nora. “She does very wrong indeed to accept the Asprays’ invitation; but perhaps it is as well, since she insists on going, that Nancy should go with her. She won’t be quite so daring and so unladylike if Nancy is by.”
“Oh dear!” cried Kitty, “do you really think our cousin Augusta unladylike?”
“When she does underhand things I do,” replied Nora. “But there, Kit! don’t let us worry any more. We have a lot to do, and on this day of all days we must not be idle, with dear Uncle Peter coming in the evening.”
“Do you know,” exclaimed Kitty, “that I cannot find the key of the chiffonier where the orderly-book is kept. Mother put it into my hand just when she was going, and I can’t imagine where I placed it. Let us go up and search mother’s room. It will never do for the key to be lost just when Uncle Peter arrives.”
The girls ran upstairs and began to search in their mother’s room, but nowhere, high or low, could they find the missing key. They questioned the servants, and begged them to have a good search for it, and presently, absorbed by other matters, forgot the circumstance.
Meanwhile Augusta was putting on her gayest and most becoming costume.
When Nancy put her sad little face round the door and said “I am going with you, Gussie,” just for a moment Augusta’s conscience did give her a sharp prick.
“You are good-natured,” she said, “and I won’t forget it. Put on something nice. Wear your pretty white dress and your white hat. You look so nice all in pure white!”
Nancy nodded and went off to her room.
“She is a good-natured little soul,” thought Augusta. “It will be much nicer for me to go with her than alone. If by any chance anything is said, she must naturally take her share of the blame. What a blessing that tiresome captain put off his visit till to-night! I only wish, for my part, he would put it off altogether. Now, do I look best in pink or blue? Pink, I think. Pale pink suits almost any one. My white hat with the blush-roses will look sweet with this frock. I don’t want those handsome girls to outshine me. Now I fancy I’ll do. I shall be quite as smart as they are, and that is all I am going to trouble my head about.”
At a quarter to eleven Augusta and Nancy left Fairleigh, and walked down the dusty road until they came to the cross-roads where they were to wait for the Asprays’ picnic party.
Punctual almost to the moment, a wagonette, a pony-carriage, and a phaeton appeared in sight. The gaily dressed party shouted welcomes to the two girls; and Mrs. Aspray, an exceedingly stout woman with a timid face and a good-natured expression, bent forward and held out her hand to welcome Augusta and Nancy.
“Why, I thought there were four of you,” she said. “Florrie said four.—Didn’t you, Flo? You mentioned four girls; I am certain of it.”
“Yes, mother,” replied Flora; “but you can see for yourself that there are only two waiting for us at the cross-roads.”
“I am so sorry,” here interrupted Augusta, speaking in her most ladylike, company, and grownup manner, “but my cousins, Kitty and Nora, are both suffering from bad colds, otherwise they would have been delighted to come.”
Nancy’s face first grew red and then white when Augusta told this falsehood. She was about to say something, but receiving a sharp nudge on her elbow from the irrepressible Augusta, she held her peace.
Room was made for the two girls in the wagonette, and the party proceeded gaily on their way. The day was a perfect one—neither too hot nor too windy; the great heat of the summer’s sun was tempered by refreshing breezes. The destination of the party was an old castle which hung over the sea at the edge of a great promontory. The castle was one of the show-places of the neighbourhood, and picnic parties there were very common.
The custodian was very pleased to receive the Asprays and their friends, and he told Mrs. Aspray that they could all have dinner in the great stone hall where once upon a time, many ages ago, the monks of the order of Ethelbert used to feed.
Augusta was in wild spirits, and Nancy tried hard to enjoy herself. There were one or two quiet, gentle sort of girls who attached themselves to her, and they walked about, examining the old place and trying to piece together its past history.
Augusta meanwhile scarcely left Flora’s side. She liked her even better than Constance. Flora was so gay, so hearty in her manner—so daring, too. She was absolutely astonished when Augusta told her that she, in her own sheltered life, had to conform to rules and to obey conditions.
“But you are too old,” said Flora. “Why, you are seventeen, are you not?”
“No,” answered Augusta; “I am only just sixteen.”
“As if that mattered! Why, in America we often marry as young as sixteen, and we certainly do exactly what we like. Oh! I am so anxious to introduce you to a great friend of ours—Mr. Archer. I did so hope he would be here to-day! He is an American, and such fun! He will put you up to a wrinkle or two. We heard from him this morning, and he will arrive to-morrow. I know you would admire him; and what is more to the point, I am certain he would like you. You are exactly the sort of English girl to take his fancy.”
Augusta blushed when Flora talked about Mr. Archer and the extreme likelihood of his taking a fancy to her.
“I don’t suppose he would for a minute. And I don’t know—this is quite between ourselves—that I shall see much more of any of you.” she answered.
“What do you mean by that? Don’t you like us?” asked Flora bluntly.
“Need you ask?” replied Augusta. “I cannot express to you what a blessing it is to me having people like you close to us; but the Richmonds have very funny ideas, and the fact is, as my aunt has not called on your mother—— Oh, you understand, don’t you?”
“But your aunt is away. How can she call on mother? She would, naturally, if she were at home.”
“Yes—yes; I know.”
“And being away,” continued Flora, “the necessary formalities cannot be gone through. Surely we can all have fun together. There is Constance.—Constance, I want to say a word to you.”
Constance danced up to her sister.
“Here is Miss Duncan,” continued Flora, “hinting to me that she won’t be able to see much of us in future. Don’t you think that would be a vast pity, Connie? And with David Archer coming, too!”
Constance laughed.
“You will like him immensely if you see him,” she said, staring full at Augusta.
Once more the colour rushed into her guest’s face.
“Well,” said Augusta, “I must do my best. You may be sure I should like to come. I have said so to your sister already. But there is a Captain Richmond coming this evening—I call him Uncle Peter, although he is not my real uncle—and he is awfully particular, and may prevent me.”
“Captain Richmond!” cried both the girls.
“Is he young, and is he nice?” questioned Flora.
“Yes; I expect you would think him both young and good-looking. As to his being nice, I expect he is that too, only he might not fulfil your ideas.”
“I should like to see him,” said Flora. “Now, I tell you what, Gussie (oh! you must let me call you Gussie—‘Miss Duncan’ is far too stiff), you must manage—quite by accident, you know—to meet us to-morrow, or next day, with your dear, particular Captain Richmond; then you will be forced, you know, to introduce us, and we will introduce you to David Archer.”
“All right. I will see what I can do,” answered Augusta.
A shout from another member of the party caused the three girls to look up.
Mr. Aspray, a very stout man with a pale face, was calling to them to hurry down and help to make tea, and no further private conversation was possible. But as the carriages drew up at the crossroads for the two girls to alight, Flora whispered in Augusta’s ear:
“Don’t forget, Gussie. Constance and I will be walking in the Fairleigh woods to-morrow. Now, be as clever as you look, and do what we want.”