Book II Chapter 8 The Little School-Mothers by L. T. Meade
Mr Durrant Visits Brown House
Mr Durrant arrived at the Brown House on Sunday afternoon. It was a day when few visitors were expected. Mr Starling, having gone to church in the morning, invariably spent the afternoon lying back in a cosy corner of the green-house, smoking and reading a Sunday newspaper. He was by no means an irreligious man, but he liked his ease on Sunday, being under the supposition that he worked extremely hard during the week days. Mrs Starling spent Sunday afternoon lying down and imagining herself a little worse than usual. Miss Felicia sat in the drawing-room, and Violet and Rose played on the lawn.
They were quite good little children and never made any unruly noise—that is, except when Robina was at home. Robina brought a disturbing element into their young lives: but now that she was gone, and Bo-peep was gone, the entire Starling family had settled down into their ordinary habits.
The day was an intensely hot one, and when Mr Durrant appeared on the scene, he stood still for a minute to wipe the moisture from his brow.
“Hallo, little ’un!” he said to Rose who, not at all shy, toddled up to him.
“What’s ’oo want, g’ate big man?” was her inquiry.
“I want your father, or your mother, or your aunt,” was Malcolm Durrant’s reply. “I want some one who can tell me something. Now I know you can’t, because you’re too small.”
“There’s my auntie in the drawing-room,” said Violet at that moment. Violet by no means wished Rose to monopolise the stranger. “She’ll say ‘Don’t’ if you has mud on your boots: but you hasn’t, they is quite clean.”
“Only dusty,” said Rose. “Let’s dust ’em.”
She knelt down as she spoke, and, taking the skirt of her little white frock, began to remove the dust from the stranger’s boots.
“Don’t, Rose! Rose, how dare you!” called a shrill voice from the drawing-room, and Miss Felicia made her appearance through the open window. “How do you do, sir,” she said. “I must apologise for my niece. Really, Rose, your conduct is disgraceful. Go away at once to the nursery and get your frock changed; what a dreadful mess you are in!”
“Poor little one!” said Malcolm Durrant. “She but did what her sex did before her for the Saviour of all the world. Forgive her, madam.”
He spoke in a very courteous tone, and, raising his hat, exhibited a noble brow and features which at once puzzled Miss Felicia and caused her heart to beat. “Won’t you come indoors, sir?” she said.
“And don’t ‘don’t’ him, please auntie!” said Violet.
But Miss Felicia, agitated, she knew not why, did not even hear her. She conducted the stranger into the little drawing-room.
“Sit down, sir,” she said. “And now, may I ask your name. You have, of course, come to see my brother-in-law on business. I can call him in a moment; but first, would you not like something to drink?”
“Very much, indeed,” said the stranger. “The fact is, I was never in such a thirsty place in the whole course of my life. A cup of tea or—or lemonade or—or—water—in fact, anything except spirits.”
“Dear sir, I am glad you are a teetotaller.”
“Dear madam, I drink wine in moderation; but that is neither here nor there. I should not like it at the present moment. You want to know my name? Malcolm Durrant. Your niece—for surely you are Miss Felicia Jennings—is at present honouring me by residing under my roof.”
“So you are the great traveller,” said Miss Felicia. She felt herself turning quite pale. “Sir,” she said, in a low reverent tone, “I honour you. It is a great, great privilege to have you under this roof. I will presently tell my brother-in-law and my sister of your arrival. My poor sister is a sad invalid; but to see you—I have not the slightest doubt—she will make an effort to come downstairs.”
“And I earnestly beg,” said Durrant, “she will do nothing of the kind. My business can be confided to you, madam. You can acquaint your sister and your brother-in-law with my desires, and they can either accept or refuse. But first of all—your hospitality was very much to the fore, dear madam, a minute ago; and I am terribly thirsty.”
Never did Miss Felicia Jennings in the whole course of her life feel happier than now. She tripped eagerly from the room, knocking against a chair as she did so. In a few minutes, she conveyed in her own fair hands a large glass of cool lemonade to her guest. He drank it off to the last drop, put down the empty glass, and told Miss Felicia in the most courteous language that she was a good Samaritan.
“Ah! my dear sir,” was her reply. “Who would not be a good Samaritan to you?”
Durrant settled himself comfortably in his easy chair.
“You have a nice little place here,” he said, “and a pretty out-look. How many sweet and peaceful homes there are in England!—and those two dear little maids to welcome me on the lawn. I only wish that they belonged to my party of young people who are at present enjoying life at Sunshine Lodge.”
“They are too young to leave home at present,” said Miss Felicia; “although I doubt not that being in your presence would do them a great deal of good. May I ask, my dear sir, how that precious little animal, Bo-peep, is progressing?”
“Bo-peep is, I believe, in admirable health, and so is Robina. You have not asked yet after the welfare of your niece.”
“Robina is a strong child: she never ails anything,” replied Miss Felicia.
“I am glad to be able to inform you that she remains in her normal, health,” answered Durrant. “And now for the purpose of this visit. I have, as you know, a little son.”
“I have heard of him; a child after your own heart—in fact, your Benjamin.”
“My little son; my only child,” said Durrant. “He is young—not yet quite six years old. I do not care to send children of such a tender age to school. I have many schemes for his future while I, alas! am forced to part from him, and my final desire is to leave him in his present home with a trustworthy lady whom I know, and who was my late dear wife’s relation—and with one young girl to be his constant companion. The girl I particularly wish to be with Ralph during my absence is, madam, your niece, Robina Starling.”
“Indeed!” said Miss Felicia. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, ‘Don’t,’ but the word did not come.
“You look surprised,” said the traveller.
“Well,” said Miss Felicia, “I know you admire Robina, or you would not have given her that pony in such an extraordinary and munificent way. But surely, she is a little—a little rough—if I may so express it.”
“Hers is an upright character: she is upright, honest, truthful. My boy cares for her, and she cares for him: he cannot be under better influence. In short, if her father and mother consent, I want to make them an offer with regard to their child, Robina.”
“And what is that offer, Mr Durrant?”
“I want to take her from her present school, making arrangements with Mrs Burton, so that Mr Starling may be put to no expense by her transfer. I want to give her all the possible advantages of a good education. These can partly be supplied by Mrs Temple, who is a very polished and accomplished lady, and partly by masters and mistresses who visit Eastbourne weekly from London. Eventually, if she so desires it, I would pay all her expenses at Girton or Newnham.”
“It is a great chance for Robina: to be honest with you,” continued Miss Felicia, “we sent her from home because she was a little noisy, and upset her poor dear mother, who is a sad invalid; but she is a good girl on the whole.”
“I find her an excellent girl: I like her very much.”
“Well, sir,” said Miss Felicia; “I thank you for what you have told me. I will now go and acquaint my brother-in-law with the fact that he is deeply honoured by your visit to our humble roof.”
“Don’t put it in that way, I beg of you, madam. Try, please, and remember that when I am at home I may be just an ordinary individual, and in no sense wish to be lionised. You will oblige me by bearing this fact in mind.”
“I will endeavour to do so,” said Miss Felicia. She left the room, nodding many times to herself.
“Now he is under our roof—I have looked at him: I have heard his voice. I wonder if he will write his name in my birthday book. I should so prize it. I have not had one real celebrity to write in my book yet. Malcolm Durrant! How that great name would stand out amongst the inferior signatures of the people in our small neighbourhood. Oh, what a chance for Robina! Of course she will go. And her expenses lifted from her father’s head. He will grab at it. I can’t imagine myself what such a great man as Malcolm Durrant finds in the child. Still, these great people are very odd now and then in their preferences. I must go to wake Edward. Dear, dear! what a lot of sleep that man does require!”
She burst open the green-house door.
“Edward; how you are snoring! Do rouse yourself. Who do you think is in the drawing-room?”
“Dear me, Felicia! How can I tell,” replied Edward Starling, rubbing his eyes and looking at his sister-in-law in a dazed way. “You know perfectly well that I don’t see visitors on Sunday. It is my one day of rest after a week of toil.”
“A week of toil, indeed! Why, you do nothing. But rouse yourself now, if you don’t want your child to lose her golden chance in life. There is no less a person waiting for you in the drawing-room than the great traveller, Malcolm Durrant!”
Now the fame of this very great person had penetrated even to Edward Starling’s ears, and he roused himself at the news, fixing his eyes in some amazement on his sister-in-law.
“You must be dreaming,” he said. “It is quite impossible that Durrant should come here.”
“But he has come here! It is about Robina; he wants to settle her in life, to do everything for her. You had best go and clinch the bargain. What he sees in her is more than I can tell. If I had my way, and could speak honestly to the poor dear man, I would say ‘Don’t’ fast enough. But there—these geniuses always take strange fancies—do let me pull your collar down, Edward, and smooth that long lock of your front hair. It looks so queer half hanging down your back. Now then, you look better. Go in: make yourself agreeable. I will follow in a few minutes just to see that you don’t make a fool of yourself.”