Chapter 12 Red Rose and Tiger Lily by L. T. Meade
THE LAND OF PERHAPS
There are some people who always get their way in life. They are by no means the best people, nor the most amiable, nor the most thoughtful. Sometimes, and not a very rare sometimes either, the poor, thoughtful people go to the wall, when the thoughtless and impulsive and careless come triumphantly out of their difficulties.
There never was a girl who got into a greater number of scrapes than Annie Forest; but neither was there ever a girl who managed to right herself more quickly. She knew the art of twisting other people round her little finger. Having performed this feat to perfection on Mrs. Martin, alias Patty, alias nursey, she went happily to bed, knowing that all would be right for the present, and never giving a thought to the evil but still distant hour when she must return her mother's ring to Mrs. Willis.
Annie rose in good time in the morning, and took upon herself the preparing of Mrs. Martin's breakfast. She lit a fire in the old lady's sitting-room, and toasted her bread with her own fair hands, and made the tea for her to drink.
Mrs. Martin started on her journey to Nortonbury with many fervent blessings from Annie, who then returned in a high state of content to her own room.
The parcel of cambric arrived in due time, and Annie cut out the first of the three frocks that morning.
In order to keep their secret quite to themselves, Nora and Annie decided to keep the door of the library locked while they were at work. This arrangement was delightful to Nora, but it irritated Molly not a little. When she came to see her sister, to be greeted by a locked door—and to hear Annie's clear voice singing out from within, "Oh, we're so busy, you darling of a Molly asthore. Don't disturb us for the present, there's a love," and when this remark was followed by silvery laughter from Nora—poor Molly felt herself decidedly out in the cold.
Jealousy was for the first time fiercely stirred in her gentle breast and she shed some tears in secret over the change in Nora, who had hitherto clung to her and loved her better than anyone else in the world.
But what will not a rather frivolous little heart do for the sake of a pretty dress?
Nora in her own way was as thoughtless as Annie, and it never occurred to either of them as even possible that Molly should be pained by the fact of the locked door.
A fortnight passed away. The pink dress and the white were both finished and the blue was rapidly approaching completion, when one day the whole party at the Grange were considerably electrified and their attention turned into a completely new quarter by a letter which arrived for Hester from Sir John Thornton.
After writing on various subjects, he concluded his lengthy epistle as follows:—
"I shall not be home for another week. For some reasons I am sorry for this delay; but when I explain matters to you, my dear Hester, on the occasion of my return, you will, I am sure, agree with me that my absence from home is, under the circumstances, allowable. In the meantime, I have not forgotten that Nan's birthday is on the 15th of August, and that that date is only a week distant. If in any way possible, I shall return either on the fifteenth or the evening of the day before; but, meanwhile, I give you carte blanche to celebrate the auspicious event in any manner you like. You need spare no expense to make the day as truly festive to yourself and your young friends as you possibly can. I enclose in this letter a blank cheque to which I have affixed my signature. You may fill it in for any sum within reason, and then if you take it to the bank at Nortonbury it will be cashed for you. Buy Nan a handsome present from me, and please choose presents for Annie Forest and all the Lorrimer children. I am sorry to hear bad rumours with regard to the Squire, and that there is a possibility of the Towers being soon in the market; but I trust these rumours are either grossly exaggerated or without any foundation. I am sorry, also, to hear that Nora Lorrimer has met with an accident, but am glad that you are taking care of her, as I know by experience that no one could have a kinder nurse than my good little Hetty. Get every possible thing you can want, my love, for Nan's birthday. Make it a festival to be long remembered by you all. Set your wits to work to make the day a really brilliant one, and expect your loving father, if not to share in the whole of the festivity, at least to be present at a portion of it.
"Now good-bye, my dear Hester; give my love to Nan, and remember me kindly to your young friend, Miss Forest.—Believe me, your affectionate father,
"John Thornton."
Hester received this letter at breakfast time. She read it through gravely—not once, but twice. Annie's gay voice, her peals of merry laughter, and her gay and irresistibly funny speeches were diverting the attention of Molly, and to a certain extent of Nan; but Nan knew the handwriting on the envelope. She was also well aware of the fact that the birthday, when she would have the glorious privilege of counting nine years as her own, was close at hand. When Hester, therefore, folded up the letter, she called to her from the other end of the table.
"Toss it over, Hetty," she said. "I know it's from the Dad; let us hear what he says."
"Yes, it is from father," replied Hester in a grave voice.
"May not I read what he says?"
"The beginning part is business."
"Well, I'll skip the business; you can point out where the fun begins. What are you looking so mysterious and solemn about? Why may not I read the letter?"
Nan looked almost cross; Hester was disturbed. She showed this by slipping the letter into her pocket. This fact aroused Annie's curiosity, who looked at her with sparkling eyes full of mischief.
"You are a cross-patch," exclaimed Nan in her most spoilt tone. "I never knew such a thing. Is not a father's letter meant for one child as well as for another?"
"No, Nan, dear, not on this occasion," said Hester in a firm tone. "Now, try not to be silly; finish your breakfast, and I will speak to you afterwards."
Nan pouted.
"When is Sir John coming back, Hester?" inquired Molly.
"In about a week," replied Hester.
"A week," shouted Nan suddenly recovering her good humour. "Hurrah! my birthday will be in a week. My dear, good girls all of you, I am getting elderly as fast as possible. I'll be nine in a week; isn't that scrumptious? Did Dad say anything about my birthday in that mysterious letter, Hetty?"
"He is coming home for your birthday," replied Hester.
"Good, kind, considerate old gentleman," responded Nan in her most flippant voice. "Did he say anything more about that great and auspicious event, Hetty?"
"He said a great deal more about it; in fact, the largest part of his letter was about it; but I'm not going to talk it over now. I propose that we all go to Nora's room after breakfast and discuss the letter. There is a good deal to discuss, and it is very exciting," continued Hester, a flush of brilliant colour coming into her cheeks.
The news that there was a good deal to discuss of an exciting character restored even Nan's good humour. Breakfast was hurried over, and Annie Forest and Nan rushed off to Nora's room to prepare her for the fact that she was soon expected to hold a levée, and that the subject under discussion was likely to be of a very rousing character.
Molly lingered behind in the breakfast-room; she looked anxiously at Hester, who avoided her eyes. Hester did not wish to say anything to make Molly unhappy, and she knew that her father's allusion to the possible sale of the Towers would fill the poor little girl's heart with the most acute misery.
Making a great effort, therefore, to fight down a nameless apprehension on her own account, for what important business could be keeping Sir John so long away from home, she said in a cheerful voice—
"Now, Molly, we're not going to croak, nor spend the day imagining all kinds of unpleasant things. Father has written me a long letter, and there are some things in it which I don't quite like; but I am not going to talk them over at present. All the end of the letter is taken up with Nan's birthday, and that is the matter we have to discuss just now. Come along now to the library, and let's get it over."
Nora was still lying flat on her back; but all pain had long left her, and she was practically quite well.
The subject of the letter was therefore discussed with intense animation by the five eager girls.
Unlimited money, any amount of presents, and carte blanche how to spend the birthday in the most agreeable way was surely enough to turn the brains of most people.
Many and wild were the plans which Nan proposed.
They would start for a picnic at six in the morning. They would order ices from Nortonbury to arrive by special messenger at some impossible place at an unearthly hour. They would have bonfires on the top of every hill within a reasonable distance. Although it was not Christmas time, they would end up with the largest Christmas tree ever seen, and it should stand in the centre of the lawn, and every poor child for miles round should be invited to see it and to share the wonderful presents which should hang from every branch and twig.
Nan's cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright while she made these suggestions; but, after all, it was Annie's proposal in the end which carried the day.
"Let's have the picnic by all means," she said; "and let all who will go to it. If Nan wishes to be charitable, and to think of others rather than herself, let her do so; and let all the school children be taken in waggons and waggonettes to Friar's Wood or any other beautiful place in the neighbourhood, and let Nan herself give them presents before they go home. All that, of course, will be very delightful; although, of course, neither Nora nor I can be present."
"What do you mean by your not being present?" asked Molly, her brown eyes growing dark with anger. "I suppose if anyone is to stay with Nora, it ought to be me."
"No, it oughtn't," said Nora. "I wish for Annie; she's more fun."
"And I can't do without you, Molly, darling," interrupted Hester. "You always are my right hand when anything important is going on; and then you know all the school children by name, which, frankly, I do not."
"Well, now, do hear me out," said Annie; "I have not half done. What I say is this, that as Sir John Thornton is so generous, and as he wishes everyone in the house to be happy on the day of Nan's birthday, I think something should be done to make it up to Nora and me. Now, why shouldn't we have a real glorious time in the evening? You have a billiard-room in this house, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Can't we have a ball there?"
"What are we to do with the table?" said Hester.
"Oh," exclaimed Nora, her eyes sparkling, "we have such a heavenly ball-room at the Towers; a great enormous room, never used and full of rubbish, which can easily be turned out."
"Is there a gallery to that room?" interrupted Annie.
"Yes, at one end."
"Then the whole thing is complete," continued Annie. "We'll have a children's fancy ball in the evening, and Nora shall look on from the gallery. Nora shall be, in a sort of way, princess of the ceremonies. We'll make her up the sweetest dress, and everyone shall come up and talk to her; and if presents are to be given away at the end, she shall give them. What do you say, girls? Could anything be more perfectly lovely than a children's fancy ball in the old ball-room at the Towers? Oh, I hope it will be a moonlight night, and the whole place will look like fairyland!"
This suggestion was so daring and brilliant that it carried Nora away on a storm of enthusiasm immediately. Nan clapped her hands and screamed with glee; and even the more sober Hester and Molly could find no objections to raise. The ball-room was certainly at the Towers; it contained a gallery where the musicians could be, and where, if necessary, Nora might rest; it contained what seemed to the children like unlimited space, and if to unlimited space unlimited money could be added, what brilliant results must be produced!
"If I consent to this," said Hester—"and I think my consent is essential—it must be on condition that not a single Lorrimer is put to even a shilling's worth of expense. The ball must be Nan's ball; the Lorrimers will most kindly give her a room to hold it in, all the rest will be our affair. Do you clearly understand, Molly? Do you, Nora?"
"Oh, I understand fast enough," said Nora quickly.
"Yes, I understand," replied Molly in a graver tone.
"Do you agree?"
"Yes," answered Molly.
"Well, your consent being obtained," continued Hester, "I will go with you to the Towers this morning, Molly, and look at the ball-room, and see Mrs. Lorrimer on the subject."
"The worst of it is," continued Annie, "that we have such a very short time to prepare—only one week to make all our fancy dresses and to see to all the other arrangements!"
"Fancy dresses!" exclaimed Nora from her sofa. "What am I to wear?"
"You are to be dressed as Queen of the Fairies. You shall lie on a bed of rose-leaves, and have gossamer, cloudy sort of drapery all around you. Never fear, Nora, you will look lovely—leave it to me."
Nora's eyes sparkled.
"Annie, you're a darling!" she exclaimed, with enthusiasm.
"And what character am I to be, Annie?" cried Nan, pouting her full lips. "I'm not jealous, and I don't mind Nora being Queen of the Fairies; but please remember that it's my party, and I am really the queen of the day."
"So you are, you sweet!" exclaimed Annie. "Don't think for a moment that I'll forget you; but you must really give me a little time to think the characters over. Suppose I consider everything carefully and jot down a few ideas, and suppose we discuss them to-night; and then to-morrow we can go to Nortonbury to buy the materials for the dresses."
"But we can't possibly make our own dresses," exclaimed Hester.
"Oh, yes, we can; they'll be twice as original. If you can get in a couple of good workwomen to help us, the dresses can easily be made at home," exclaimed Annie, her eyes sparkling.
"Hester!" cried Molly, suddenly springing to her feet, "if we are to go to the Towers this morning, don't you think we had better start?"
Hester stood up.
"The day is such a delightful one," she said, "that I think we will just walk across the fields. I'll run up to my room and fetch my hat and gloves, and bring yours down at the same time, Molly."
Five minutes later the two girls had set off. It was now holiday time at the Towers, and almost immediately on their arrival they were greeted by a whole bevy of children, who rushed up the avenue in a state of breathless excitement.
"What do you think, Molly?" exclaimed Kitty, stammering almost in her eagerness. "Oh, you'll never guess, for it is so uncommon and unexpected—father and mother both went to London this morning?"
"Both—to London?" exclaimed Molly, stepping back a pace or two, while a look of surprise, and even consternation, spread itself over her round, fair face.
"Dear me, yes!" exclaimed Nell.
"And they were awfully jolly about it," exclaimed Boris; "and mother has promised to bring me a rabbit."
"And me a dove," screamed Kitty.
"And perhaps I'm to have a shaggy pony all to myself," exclaimed Nell; "but it's only perhaps. It's perhaps, too, with you, Boris, and you, Kitty; you oughtn't to forget that."
"Oh, bother perhapses!" exclaimed Kitty. "I know I'm to have my rabbit; he's to have lop-ears and long fur, and he's to be snow-white, if possible. I described him fully to mother last night when she came to tuck me up. I kept pulling my eyes open to stay awake for the purpose."
"And I told mother that I wished for a ring-dove," said Boris. "I want a ring-dove awfully, for there's an empty cage in the attic that will just fit it. Oh, I do hope, I do hope, that it will come!"
He looked almost sad as he spoke and glanced at Nell, who was not looking at him.
"Nell, come here," exclaimed Molly suddenly. "Hester, you can explain to Boris and Kitty what you have come about, and they can take you round and show you the ball-room. Come along, Nell, I want to talk to you."
Molly put her arm round Nell and drew her down a side walk.
"Now, Nell," she said, "you must explain all this to me. Why has mother gone to London? I am not so much surprised about father; father does go sometimes, but mother. Why has she gone? Answer me, Nell; tell me what you know."
"I don't know anything," said Nell. "Father was out all day yesterday, and mother looked very sad. She didn't cry or anything of that sort, of course; but she looked sad, and then father came home about tea-time quite jolly and in high spirits, and he said something to mother and they went into the study together; and then father shouted to Jane Macalister to come to them, and Jane went; and presently we were told that father and mother were to go to London this morning, and that they'd be away perhaps a week, perhaps ten days. Jane told us that, and then mother came into the room and she said the same thing, and she looked kind of pretence-merry you know, and said that perhaps she'd bring us back things. It was then Kitty asked for the rabbit, and Boris for the dove, and Guy wanted Star-Land and Harry some new carpenter's tools, and mother promised everything with a perhaps tacked on; but I don't think anyone noticed the perhaps except me, and all the time she kept smiling with her lips, but her eyes were so sad."
"And you asked for a pony, Nell?"
Nell coloured crimson.
"No, I didn't," she replied; "but mother turned to me and put her arm round me and said, 'If the others get their things you shall have the wish of your heart, a shaggy pony.'"
"And what did you say to that, Nell?"
"I whispered back to her that I didn't want her to spend her money; and then she kissed me very hard."
"And did father promise things?"
"He said that the house should be refurnished, and that we should go to the sea, and he would buy new horses and a lovely carriage for mother. Father was lively; I never saw him so gay."
"And they went off this morning?"
"Yes, very early; I wasn't even dressed, but I jumped out of bed and ran to the window and saw them driving away."
"And that's all you know, Nell?" exclaimed Molly.
"Yes, that's all I know."
"Now, tell me what you think."
"What I think?" replied Nell. "I—" she hesitated. "No, I'd rather not."
"You must, Nell, you must. Remember I'm your own cosy old Moll; remember I understand you, and I'm the eldest girl and mother's right hand. There's something that you think very, very hard, Nell, and you have wise thoughts, though you are so young. Tell me what they are; tell me at once."
Molly knelt on the grass as she spoke and put her arms round Nell, who leant up against her and laid her head on her shoulder.
"Now, Nell, speak."
Nell rubbed her cheek against Molly's, as if she found great comfort in the contact.
"I think that mother is unhappy," she said, "and that, that we won't get the presents."
"Come along and let's find Jane Macalister," exclaimed Molly suddenly. She caught Nell's hand and rushed with her towards the house.
When Jane was not teaching, she was, generally, cooking, or mending clothes, or putting the store-room in order. Jane never wasted a moment of her time, and she was extremely fond of taking up all the loose threads of work which other people had dropped. When the girls, therefore, now found themselves in the great central hall, and Nell's clear, high voice shouted for Jane, the single word, "store-room," seemed to echo back to them from somewhere in the clouds.
The store-room, where the largest supply of preserves and dried goods was kept, was high up in the old tower—higher up even than the schoolroom.
"You stay downstairs, Nell," exclaimed Molly; "I wish to see Jane alone." She reached the spiral stairs, which she began to mount quickly. By-and-by with panting breath she arrived at the store-room. The door was open, but there was no Jane.
"Where are you, Jane Macalister?" called Molly.
"Linen press," called Jane from still higher up.
Molly mounted once more. Jane, with an old pillow-case pinned round her head and a huge apron on, was on her knees sorting feathers.
"What are you doing?" exclaimed Molly.
"Don't speak to me for a moment, Molly; I'm in a perfect rage," exclaimed Jane. "There stand out of the draught, child, or you'll get all this fluff into your hair. I have just discovered that the feathers put into these last pillows were not properly cured, so I've been obliged to take them all out, and I'm sprinkling them with lime. Faugh, what a mess the place is in. This is what comes of taking in an incompetent kitchen-maid like Susan Hicks. She did not half do the work of sorting and curing these feathers. Now, what is it you want, Molly? You can see for yourself that I'm up to my eyes in work."
"I can," said Molly. "Well, I'll wait for a moment."
"You'll wait for a moment!" screamed Jane. "I tell you I shan't have done for hours. There are at least a dozen pillows to be unpicked and their contents well sorted, and sprinkled with lime. I brought up a sandwich in my pocket, and don't mean to come downstairs until the job is done, and well done, too. Nothing frets me like half-finished work, and these pillows would get on my brain at night if I didn't see to them."
Molly slowly crossed the linen-press room, and stood by the window.
"There, child," exclaimed Jane, "you're exactly in my light. If you have anything to say, say it and have done with it. By the way, how is Nora? I hope they're not spoiling her at the Grange."
"Nora is getting on nicely, thank you."
"It was a lucky chance for her," continued Jane, "that she happened to be near the Grange when she got hurt. Hester Thornton is sure to give her every comfort. Molly, you're exactly in my light."
Molly moved to one side of the window.
Jane Macalister went on vigorously with her work, the fluff from the feathers rose in the air, the smell of the lime was pungent.
"Faugh," continued Jane; "here's a lump for you. Susan Hicks, you'd better keep out of my way for the present. 'Pon my word! look at this quill, why I could make a pen with it; disgraceful, perfectly disgraceful. Molly, I wish you wouldn't fidget. What in the world do you want to say to me?"
"I want to ask you this," said Molly. "Why has mother gone to London?"
Jane bent low over her work, some fluff got into her nose and made her sneeze.
"Look here, Molly," she exclaimed; "your mother went to London with your father because she wished to, I suppose."
"Yes, but why did she wish it?"
"That I am not prepared to tell you, my dear."
Molly stamped her foot.
"I wish you'd look at me, Jane," she said, "and leave off fiddling with those horrid, detestable feathers. When—when one is quite wretched, what do feathers matter? I have come home to find father and mother gone."
"And me over the feathers," interrupted Jane. "Well, I suppose people want pillows, whether they're happy or miserable. I never knew before, at least, that they didn't."
"Jane," said Molly, "you're hiding something from me."
Jane Macalister suddenly rose to her feet. She came up to Molly and took her hand. "I didn't know you'd come over this morning, my love," she said. "I have been told certain things, and what I'm told in confidence cart-ropes won't drag from me. Your father and mother have gone to London because there is a hope, just a hope, that terrible trouble may be averted. It's all uncertainty, and it's all suspense at present, Molly; and those who are cowards will bear it badly, and those who are brave will bear it well. That's all I can tell you, my love; and now let me get back to the feathers, or I won't have them done by night."