Chapter 13 A Bevy of Girls by L. T. Meade
A Surprise Visit
The girls soon settled down into the old routine of home life. They got accustomed to their pretty room, which truth to tell they kept in anything but perfect order. They were accustomed to the fact that Mrs Aldworth was a greater invalid than before, but was also well looked after, and was so guarded by Marcia and Nurse Davenant that nobody dared to neglect her. The shadow of that awful night receded farther end farther into the back recesses of their brains; they still had the Carters to love and worship; and Nesta still adored her friend Flossie Griffiths.
A week went by—a fortnight. The weather was intensely hot. Had it been possible, the doctor would have ordered Mrs Aldworth to the seaside; but although her strength returned up to a certain point, she did not seem to go beyond it.
It was one day during the first week in August, one of those extremely hot days when it is an effort even to move, that Mrs Aldworth lay panting on her balcony. The trees in the garden were already assuming a brown tint; the flowers were drooping under the sultry heat of the sun; there was a hot quiver in the air when one looked right in front of one. The bees flew in and out of the window; butterflies chased each other over the garden. There was a stillness and yet a heaviness in the air which seemed to betoken a storm not far off.
It was just then that there came a ring at the front door, and Nesta in a great state of excitement entered her mother’s room.
“Marcia,” she said, “may I speak to you for a minute?”
Marcia, who was doing some light needlework in the neighbourhood of the invalid’s sofa, said:
“Come in, Nesta, and tell me what it is all about.”
“But I want to see you by yourself,” said Nesta.
“My darling,” said Mrs Aldworth, “why these constant secrets? Why shouldn’t your mothery know?”
“Oh, it’s Clara Carter—she’s downstairs. She wants to talk to you. Oh, and here’s a telegram for you.” Nesta thrust a little yellow envelope into her sister’s hand. Marcia opened it.
“It’s from Angela,” she said. “She’s coming to see me in a few minutes. What does Clara want?”
“Just to speak to you. Won’t you come down?”
“Can you spare me, dear?” said Marcia, turning to the invalid.
“Yes, of course, Marcia. Go, my dear, and don’t hurry back. I feel inclined to ask Miss Angela St. Just to come and see me this morning. You have told me so much about her that I should like to see her; she must be a very nice girl.”
“She is, very nice and very beautiful. She is one of God’s angels. Her name is one of the most appropriate things about her,” said Marcia.
“Do you think she would care to come up to see me?”
“She would be delighted, if you are strong enough.”
“Yes,” said Nurse Davenant, “Mrs Aldworth is doing finely to-day. Now, Miss Nesta, if you don’t wish to sit down, please leave the room, for your mother cannot be fatigued by your moving about in that restless fashion.”
Nesta decided that she would leave the room.
“I’ll go and get some flowers for mothery,” she said, glancing at the different flower glasses, and the next minute, making her escape, she overtook Marcia, who was halfway downstairs.
“What is it, Nesta, what are you so excited about?”
“It’s because Clay is coming to ask you something most important I do hope you won’t say no. They’re all most keenly anxious. Molly and Ethel don’t want it, but I do. I promised Penelope when I was there, that I’d do my utmost, but the others are against it.”
“Whatever can it be?” said Marcia.
“Well, you see, the Carters are most anxious to know the St. Justs, Angela in particular, and Clara is coming here. Oh, don’t go so fast, Marcia, I must tell you. Clara is coming here on purpose, for she guessed that Angela would be coming to see you to-day.”
“You mean Miss St. Just,” said Marcia steadily.
“Why mayn’t I call her Angela as well as you?”
“Simply because, Nesta, you don’t know her.”
“Well, Miss St. Just, whatever you like to call her.”
“And how could Miss Carter possibly know that my friend was coming to see me to-day?”
“Because she knew from her father that Sir Edward had to come to Newcastle for an important meeting, and she guessed somehow, that Miss Angela—I must call her that—would come also, and she is just coming on purpose that you may introduce her. She doesn’t want to say so, but she wants to talk to you until Miss St. Just arrives, and you mustn’t gainsay her. You won’t—will you? It’s the greatest fun in the world—it means a great deal to me.”
“Now, Nesta, what can it mean?”
“I won’t tell you. You can’t turn her away—you can’t be so rude. There she is, sitting by the window. She’s a dear old thing.”
Nesta did not accompany Marcia into the drawing room. Marcia went forward and shook hands with Clara, who was looking as such a girl must look when she is particularly anxious to make an impression. Clara, in her cotton frock, with her wild, somewhat untidy mop of hair, was at least natural at Court Prospect; but Clara, with that same hair confined in every direction by invisible nets, with her showy hat, and her dress altogether out of taste, her hands forced into gloves a size too small for her, was by no means a very pleasing object to contemplate. She could not boast of good looks, and she had no style to recommend her. She was natural with the younger Aldworths, but Marcia rather frightened her. She came forward, however, and spoke enthusiastically.
“It is good of you, Miss Aldworth, to give me some of your valuable time. I assure you I’m as proud as possible. I said to Mabel this morning, and to Annie, that I would come to see you. Father was driving into Newcastle to attend that meeting of the Agriculturists. Of course father, as you may know, is on the Board.” Marcia made no reply.
“He is on the Board, and will be made Chairman at the next election of officers. It is a most important matter, isn’t it, Miss Aldworth? You are interested in the welfare of the farmers, are you not?”
“I regret to say that I don’t know anything about them,” said Marcia. “I have lived a great deal out of England,” she continued, “and since I came home I have been much occupied.”
“Oh, yes,” said Clara with enthusiasm, “we all know how noble you have been—you saved the life of the poor dear girls’ mamma, didn’t you?”
“No, it was God who did that.”
“Oh, thank you so much for reproving me. I didn’t mean in that way. But for you, for your finding her just when you did, she might have died. It was very awful, wasn’t it? I did so pity Molly and Ethel. You see, they had invited us to tea, and they gave us, poor girls, a very nice meal; we all quite enjoyed it, and Molly looked so pretty in her blue dress. I think Molly is quite pretty, don’t you?”
No reply from Marcia.
“You know she went up to her mother because Nesta—naughty Nesta, had run away. Nesta is very naughty, isn’t she?”
Marcia very faintly smiled.
“May I draw down this blind?” she said. “The sun is getting into your eyes.”
“Thank you, how kind of you—how considerate. Well, as I was saying, a servant came out and spoke to Molly, and said that her mother wanted her. Molly went in, and she came back in a few minutes and seemed quite jolly and happy. She thought that her mother was going to sleep. But it wasn’t a real sleep, was it? Do tell me the truth. I have always been so anxious to know. You see, when the girls came to us, they were in such a dreadful state of grief, that we did not dare to question them, and we have never dared to question them from that day to this. But I should like to know the truth. Was it a natural sleep?”
“I am sorry, very sorry,” replied Marcia, “that I cannot enlighten you. That dreadful time is over, and thank God, Mrs Aldworth’s life has been spared.”
Clara coloured; she felt the reproof in Marcia’s tone. “I know you think me a very silly, curious girl,” she said; “but I really do want to be nice and good and to improve myself. Now you, Miss Aldworth—”
Marcia fidgeted. She rose, and opened the window.
“The day is very hot,” she said.
“Indeed it is. We are all going to the seaside on Saturday. I suppose you couldn’t spare one of the girls—Ethel, or Molly, or Nesta?”
“I fear not. I wish we could, for their sakes. Our hope is that Mrs Aldworth may be better, and then we may be able to take her to the seaside.”
There came a ring at the front door. Marcia coloured brightly. She felt her cheeks growing hot and then cold. Clara was watching her face.
“I think that is the ring of a friend of mine,” she said, “and if you—”
Before she could finish her sentence the door was flung open and Susan announced Miss St. Just. Enter a tall girl in white, with a white muslin hat to match, and a face the like of which Clara had never seen before. The room seemed transfigured. Marcia herself sank into insignificance beside Angela.
Angela came up quickly and kissed her friend.
“You are surprised, Marcia? I want to take you back with me just for the day. If we are quick we can catch the next train.”
“Won’t you introduce me?” said Clara’s voice, somewhat high-strained and mincing, at that moment.
“Oh, I beg your pardon. Angela, this is Miss Carter, Miss Clara Carter.”
Angela turned. There was no false pride about her.
“You live at Court Prospect?” she said, “our old place. How do you do? I hope you like it.”
“Very much indeed,” said Clara, stammering in her eagerness. “It is a lovely place. We have, I think—and we’d be proud to show it to you—improved the place immensely.”
“Improved it?” said Angela. “The cedar avenue, and the beech avenue, and the old Elizabethan garden?”
“We have altered the garden a good deal—I hope you don’t mind. You know, it was very confined and old-fashioned, with its prim box hedges, and those quaint things that looked like animals cut out in box at each corner.”
“And the sundial—you haven’t destroyed that, have you!”
“If you mean that queer stone in the centre—well, yes, we have turned the whole garden into a tennis lawn. It is so delightful. If you could only come and see it.”
“Some day, perhaps. Thank you very much.” Angela turned again, to Marcia.
“Do run up and put on your things. I know you can be spared quite well. I want a whole day in the woods. We can catch the next train to Hurst Castle, and my little pony trap is waiting. Be quick, Marcia, be quick.”
Marcia flew from the room. Now indeed was Clara’s chance.
“I hope you’re not hurt, Miss St. Just,” she began. “If I’d known even for a single moment that you valued those things—”
“Thank you,” said Angela, “I value their memory. Of course the place is no longer ours, and you have the right to do as you like with your own.”
“Then you think we did wrong? You, who know so much better.”
“I will try not to think so; but don’t ask me about Court Prospect. Let us forget that you live there.”
“Then you won’t come to see us? We are so anxious to know you.”
“How kind of you,” said Angela sweetly. “What a hot day this is; don’t you find it so?”
“Well, yes; but at Court Prospect it is much cooler.”
“Of course; you are more in the country.”
Angela wondered when Marcia would be ready.
“We are going to the seaside,” continued Clara. “Of course, we cannot stand this great heat. I want to take one of the Aldworth girls with me; but Marcia—I mean Miss Aldworth, your friend—doesn’t seem to approve of it.”
“They couldn’t leave home very well just now. The one who ought to go is Marcia herself.”
“Indeed, yes. How sweet of you to confide in me. Don’t you think she is looking very pale?”
“She has suffered a good deal. I am most anxious that she should have a fortnight or so at Hurst Castle.”
“What a rapturous idea,” thought Clara. “If only I could bring it about. What wouldn’t I give to spend some days at Hurst Castle! If only that girl would get me to help her.”
“But why won’t she go?” said Clara. “It seems quite easy. Mrs Aldworth has three daughters of her own, and there is the nurse. I think she could.”
“I quite agree with you,” said Angela, and just then Marcia came into the room.
“I am ready,” she said. “I am ever so sorry, Miss Carter, it does seem rude, but we shall miss our train.”
“Marcia, Miss Carter and I have been having quite an interesting conversation about you. We both think you need a change, and Miss Carter thinks with me that your mother could be left with her own girls and the nurse.”
The colour came into Marcia’s cheeks.
“We can talk of that in the train,” she said. “Good-bye, Miss Carter. Shall I call Nesta to you?”
“No, thank you, I must be going now. I am so glad to have seen you. Miss St. Just. It is a very great honour to make your acquaintance. I trust some day you will be induced to come to see us in our home. We should be so glad to get your opinion with regard to further improvements which we are anxious to make. You will come, won’t you, come day? It would be such a very great pleasure.”
Angela gave a dubious promise, and the next minute the girls were hurrying down the street.
“What a detestable creature!” said Marcia.
“Oh, no, she belongs to a type,” said Angela. “But I don’t want to think of the awful things they have done at Court Prospect. They think they have improved my garden—my dear, dear garden.”