Chapter 8 A Modern Tomboy by L. T. Meade
THE RECTORY
On the following Wednesday all the girls belonging to Mrs. Merriman's school, accompanied by Miss Archer, went to have tea with the Singletons. Even Rosamund was interested in this visit. She did not say much about it. She had been rather silent and, as Jane Denton said, "off color" for the last few days. She had forgotten to be wild or cantankerous. She had even ceased to notice Lucy; and as to her lessons, she had gone through the tasks assigned to her with sufficient promptitude and sufficient correctness to win fairly good remarks from the two governesses and from the different teachers who came to visit the little school. Of Irene Ashleigh she absolutely refused to speak. With regard to her adventure on Sunday she also kept a profound silence. No one, not even Jane Denton, could induce her to alter her mind with regard to this particular. Jane was anxious about her friend. Laura Everett said that she did not think Rosamund Cunliffe nearly as interesting as when she first met her. Phyllis Flower looked wise and mysterious, as she always did, and everything settled down to a monotonous and yet harmonious contentment at Sunnyside.
Nevertheless, Wednesday was thought a good deal about, and the girls of the entire school—for every single one was invited—headed by Lucy and accompanied by Miss Archer, started to walk to the Rectory.
Now, Rosamund's interest in this expedition was on no account to examine the "Leaves," as naughty Irene called the rector's daughters; but she wanted to watch Miss Carter, and if possible to get a word with her, and to induce her to tell her something more with regard to the wild and mischievous girl whom, nevertheless, she could not get for a moment out of her head.
When the young people arrived at the Rectory they found the rector's daughters waiting for them, not dressed in their quaint green dresses as on Sunday, but in simple white, with green ribbons, however, round their white straw hats. They looked particularly pretty and interesting, and Rosamund could not help feeling that under different circumstances she might have been glad to make friends with them. Maud, the eldest girl, had very straight, well-formed features. She was intensely fair, with large, clear blue eyes; and her hair, golden, with warm shades in it, hung below her waist. Her little mouth was small and rosy and very firm. She had a pretty cleft in her chin, a good carriage; and, in short, she was just the sort of girl to captivate other girls. Beyond doubt she had for some time acted as mother to her sisters; for Alice, the next in age, was about two years younger. Then came Bertha and Mary, pretty little girls of nine and ten years of age, and then Ivy and Jasmine.
They made an interesting group as they clustered round the girls from Sunnyside and bade them welcome, Maud taking the lead, and finally attaching herself to Rosamund; for she guessed, in some sort of instinctive way, that Rosamund had more character than the other school-girls, and would be more likely to interest her.
"Come and walk with me, won't you?" she said. "I want to introduce you to dear Miss Carter. She is longing to see you. She knows—we all know—about your wonderful escapade on Sunday."
Rosamund felt herself turning pale just for a moment: then the color flooded her cheeks.
"I would rather not speak about Sunday, if you don't mind," she said.
"Certainly I don't mind," replied Maud in a very quiet and lady-like way. "That is, if you would really rather not," she continued after a pause. "We know a great deal of Irene Ashleigh from Miss Carter, and we are all interested in her."
"I should have thought you would have hated her," said Rosamund suddenly.
"No—not exactly. She has a sort of fascination for us. Whenever we want dear Carter to make us thoroughly happy, or to give us a great treat, we get her to tell us about this wild, this formidable little Irene. She could not do it at first, poor thing! for, you know—but I can't speak of that to-day. Oh! here she is, coming down the path. Ah, Miss Carter," called Maud, "this is Rosamund"——
"Rosamund Cunliffe," said Rosamund.
"Rosamund Cunliffe, the girl who was so plucky and went on the lake with Irene Ashleigh on Sunday afternoon."
"You were very fortunate," said Miss Carter, speaking in a prim voice. "It was, I regret to say, otherwise with me. I could not command her, and she took me"——Miss Carter's lips trembled.
"Don't speak of it now, dear Cartery. It always upsets you, doesn't it? Let us talk of something else. You are very happy with us, aren't you, Cartery love?"
"Cartery love" expressed that she was, and Maud slipped her hand affectionately through her governess's arm.
Rosamund gave the latter lady a keen glance. She saw that she was naturally extremely kind, but also shy and wanting in courage.
"She could never master Irene," thought the girl. "Irene is going to be given to me. She shall be mine. I mean to help her. I mean, whatever happens, to save her. But I don't mind talking a wee little bit about her to 'Cartery love,' as that funny Maud calls her."
The rest of the girls came up in a group, and the next hour or two were spent wandering through the pleasant gardens, while laughter, jokes, and good-humored chatter of all sorts filled the air.
Then came tea. Now, the rector's teas were celebrated. They were, in fact, that old-fashioned institution, now, alas! so rapidly disappearing from our English life, known as "high tea." Eggs, boiled ham, chickens, stewed fruits, fresh ripe fruit of every sort and variety, graced the board. No dinner followed this meal; but sandwiches and lemonade generally concluded the happy day.
The girls knew that they were not expected back until bedtime, and gave themselves absolutely up to the pleasures of the time. The Rectory was a charming old house, being quite a hundred and fifty or two hundred years old; and the study, or schoolroom, as the girls called it, where they invariably partook of tea, was a low-roofed apartment running right across the eastern side of the house. It was, therefore, at this hour a delightfully cool room, and was rendered more so by the bowery shade of green trees.
Rosamund found herself sitting near Maud at the meal, and she suddenly turned to her and said, "I quite understand now why you wear green, and why some people call you the Leaves."
"One person, you mean," said Maud, coloring slightly.
Lucy gave Rosamund an angry glance, and even managed to kick her under the table. This kick was highly resented by that young person, who, as she said to herself, stiffened her neck on the spot and determined to show what mettle she was made of.
"I'm not going to be mastered by that horrid Lucy, come what may," she thought.
Although it was impossible to be absolutely rude to Maud, who was one of those charming girls, unaffected, affectionate, and natural, who must delight every one, yet Rosamund's real object was to have a talk with "Cartery love." Now, Cartery's hands were full at that moment, for she was absorbed pouring out coffee at the other end of the table, never thinking once of herself, attending to the wants of every one else. She was one of those retiring people who may come and go in a crowd without any one specially noticing them; but if a kind office is wanted to be done in the most unobtrusive and gentle way, then "Cartery love" was sure to be at the fore. On this occasion she did glance once or twice at Rosamund, and something which was not often seen in her eyes filled them for a moment—a look of mingled admiration and fear. Rosamund determined to bide her time.
"I have not come here to make friends with the stupid Leaves," she said to herself. "I have come here to talk to Miss Carter, and talk to her I will. The week is coming to a close, and I have to give my decision. How that decision will turn out depends as much on 'Cartery love' as on anybody else."
Tea, good as it was, came to an end at last, and the children went out into the grounds, some to play tennis, some croquet, and some to wander away, two and two, each talking, as girls will, of their hopes and fears and ambitions.
Rosamund, to whom Maud devoted herself, turned suddenly to that young person.
"I will confide in you," she said. "You are longing to play tennis, are you not?"
"Oh no, thank you, not at all," said Maud, who was one of the champion players of the neighborhood, and could never bear to be out of any game that was in progress.
"But I know you are. I can read through people pretty well," said Rosamund, speaking in a low tone. "Now, I want to have a little talk with Miss Carter. Won't you go and play, and forget all about me, and let me have a chat with Miss Carter?"
"With our darling Cartery? Why, certainly, you shall if you like. I see you want to get her to tell you about Irene. I doubt if she will. Do, please, be merciful. She is very nervous. When she came to us she was almost ill, and we had to take great, great care of her. Would you like, first of all, to know how she came to us?"
"I should very much."
Rosamund forgot at this juncture all about Maud's passionate love for tennis.
"Well, it was in this way. We had no governess; we used to go to a sort of school—not the Merrimans', for they had not started one at the time—and I used to teach the little children, and things were rather at sixes and sevens. Not that father ever minded, for he is the sort of man who just lets you do what you like, and I think that is why we have grown up nicer than most girls."
"Indeed, I didn't know it would have that effect," said Rosamund, trying to suppress the sarcastic note in her voice.
"Don't speak in that tone, please. I think we really are quite nice girls—I mean we never quarrel, and we are always chummy and affectionate, and we try to do our best. We are not a bit self-righteous or conceited, or anything of that sort; for, you see, when our dear mother was alive she taught us so beautifully. Her rule was such a very simple one. She never punished us; all she ever said was, 'Do it because it is right. You cannot quite understand why it is right while you are very young; but, nevertheless, do it because it is right and because you love me.' And when God took her, and we thought our hearts would break, we all sat in a conclave together, and we determined to follow our mother's rule, and to do the right because it was right and because we loved her. I cannot tell you what a terrible time we had; but we stuck to that resolve. Nevertheless, our education was a poor affair, although father never noticed it.
"One day I was out driving with father, and we saw a poor lady sitting by the roadside. She looked so forlorn, and her eyes were red with crying. We did not know her; but she knew us, for she stood up at once, and said to father, 'You are Mr. Singleton?'
"Then, of course, father remembered her, only I did not. She was one of the many governesses who had come to try to tame Irene Ashleigh. So father and I both got down from the gig, and she told us that she had left The Follies and was going back to London to try to get another situation. She said that she had sent on her trunks by a porter to the station, and she meant to walk, for Lady Jane was very, very angry with her. She could not go on. She broke down, poor dear! and very nearly fainted. She said she did feel very faint and bad, so we just got her into the gig—as, of course, any people who had any feelings would do—and we brought her straight back to the Rectory, and she has stayed with us ever since.
"For the first month she was not our governess at all; she was our sort of child, to be petted and loved and fussed over. We put her in the sunniest room, and when we found that her nerves were so terribly shaken that she could scarcely sleep alone, one of my sisters had a little bed made up in the room and slept with her at night. We fed her up, didn't we just? and petted her; and when we found she liked it we took to calling her 'Cartery love,' and she did not mind it a bit. Then she got better, and said she must seek another situation, and father said she should stay and teach us and look after things in the house a bit. So she stayed. She knows such a lot, and does teach us so beautifully, and she isn't half nor quarter as shy as she was; we all love her, and she loves us. I think if Irene were not so near she would be perfectly happy."
"Thank you for telling me so much," said Rosamund when Maud ceased speaking.
"I had to tell you, for I want you, if you talk to her, to be very careful, for she is still exceedingly nervous. And no wonder. What she lived through at The Follies was enough to destroy the nerves of any woman, even the stoutest-hearted in the world."
"Well, I should like to speak to her, and I will certainly not harm her," said Rosamund.
Maud left her for a little while, and in a few minutes Miss Carter was seen coming down the path with Maud hanging on her arm.
"Now, Cartery dear," she said, "you talk to Rosamund Cunliffe, who is a friend of mine, and I will go and have a good, romping game of tennis. Oh, I see they are just breaking up the present set, so I am just in time."
Off ran Maud. Miss Carter's light-blue eyes followed her with an expression of the deepest affection.
"You seem very fond of her," said Rosamund suddenly.
"I don't know what I should have done without her. She saved my life and my reason."
"I don't want to talk about what has evidently given you very great distress," said Rosamund after a time; "but I should like to tell you that I know."
"You know?" said Miss Carter, beginning to tremble, and turning very pale.
"Yes, for Irene told me."
"My dear, dear Miss Cunliffe, how had you the courage to go with her in that terrible boat? She actually took you into the current—that appalling current where one is so powerless—and you escaped!"
"Oh, yes," said Rosamund lightly. "It was a mere nothing. You see, I am stronger than she is. All she wants is management."
"I could never manage her," said Miss Carter. "I could tell you of other things she did."
"No, I don't want to hear unless you are going to tell me something nice about her. Every one seems to speak against that poor girl; but I am determined to be her friend."
"Are you really?" said Miss Carter, suddenly changing her tone and looking fixedly at Rosamund. "Then you must be about the noblest girl in the world."
These words were very gratifying to Rosamund, who did think herself rather good in taking up Irene's cause; although, of course, she was fascinated by the exceedingly naughty young person.
"Yes, indeed, you are splendid," said Miss Carter; "and I know there must be good in the child. Such courage, such animal spirits, such daring cannot be meant for nothing. The fact is, her mother cannot manage her. Her mother is too gentle, too like me."
"Dear Lady Jane! Miss Carter, when my mother was young she was her great friend, and she said that Lady Jane was rather naughty."
"Ah!" said Miss Carter, with a sigh, "she has left all that behind her a long time ago. The only time I found her hard and unsympathetic was when I told her that I could not stay any longer at The Follies. She begged and implored of me to stay; but, of course, you know the story. I was under a promise to go, and I could not let out that Irene had wrung it from me at the risk of my life. So I went, and she took no notice of me, although it seemed to me that a sort of despair filled her face. Anyhow, off I went, and I am a happy woman here. I don't know what is to be done with Irene."
How long were you with her?
"A month altogether; but that month seems like years. I was very glad to get the post, for I must tell you, Miss Cunliffe, that I am poor and dependent altogether on what I earn for my daily bread. I have an old mother at home; I help her to keep alive with some of my earnings; and Lady Jane offered a very big salary—over a hundred a year—and there was only one child to teach, and I thought it would be so delightful. She mentioned the charms of the country-house, and that she did not require a great deal of education; and she even spoke of the lake and the boat. Oh, I was so glad to come! for I am not certificated, you know, and cannot get the posts that other women can. Well, anyhow, I arrived, and for a month it was really a reign of terror."
Miss Carter began to tremble.
"You must not do that, really," said Rosamund. "You are not suited to it. But do tell me what you think a very strong-minded person would have made of Irene."
"Well, you see, the first and principal thing was not to fear her, and it was impossible not to fear her, for she was up to so many tricks; she was worse than the most mischievous school-boy who ever walked. She would suddenly come into the drawing-room in her gymnasium clothes, and turn somersaults up and down the room in the presence of Lady Jane's distinguished guests. Oh! I cannot tell you half she did—I dare not tell you. There was no trick she was not up to; but you will know for yourself if you really mean to have more to do with her."
"I certainly mean to have a great deal more to do with her, although at the present moment I am forbidden by Professor Merriman even to speak to her."
"I know the Merrimans have a very bad opinion of her," said Miss Carter.
"Yes, that is just it; but she is the daughter of my mother's dearest friend, and I am not going to give her up."
"Yet you are at school at Mr. Merriman's!"
"That is true."
Miss Carter looked in a puzzled way at Rosamund.
"I cannot reveal any more of my plans," said Rosamund, speaking in a rather lofty tone; "but now I want to know a few things about her. Is she stingy or generous?"
"Oh! absolutely and perfectly generous, and in her own way forgiving too; and I do not think she could tell a lie, for she has no fear in her, and I suppose it is fear that makes us tell lies. She has never feared any mortal. She has no respect for authority, not even her mother; and although she rushes at her sometimes and smothers her with kisses, she seems to have no real affection for her. If I could be sure that she was absolutely affectionate I think something could be done for her. Now, that is all I can tell you. You can scarcely believe how this subject distresses me and causes that terrible trembling to come on. I don't think, Miss Cunliffe, young as you are, and brave as you doubtless are, you ought to undertake the reform of that wild girl at your age. Allow me to say that you are sent to school by your parents for a definite purpose, and not to undertake the reform of Irene Ashleigh."
A frown came over Rosamund's face, and Miss Carter, glancing at her, saw that her words had caused displeasure.
"Forgive me," she said gently; "I don't really mean to be unkind. Indeed, I admire you, and admire your bravery beyond words. To be as brave as you are would be a noble gift, and if it were only my own heritage, how happy I should be!"
"I tell you what it is, Miss Carter," said Rosamund suddenly; "if ever I want your help, and if I can assure you that you can give it without personal danger to yourself, will you give it to me?"
"If I think it right I will truly do so."
"Then the day may come," said Rosamund; "there is no saying."
Just then Ivy's pretty voice was heard calling Miss Carter.
"She is my second youngest pupil, and such a darling child!" said Miss Carter, her eyes brightening. "Yes, dear," she continued as Ivy danced up to her; "what is it?"
"We want a game of Puss-in-the-corner, and the silliest and youngest among us are going to play."
Jumping up as she spoke, Miss Carter said she belonged to that group, and Rosamund turned somewhat disdainfully away.