by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER VIII
Lady Carrington and I went to St. Margaret's, Westminster, to see myfather married to Lady Helen Dalrymple. I had never witnessed a marriageceremony before, and thought it a very dull and dreary affair. My ideaswith regard to a bride had always been that she must be exceedinglyyoung and very beautiful, and now, when I saw Lady Helen, all droopingand fragile, and in my opinion quite old, not even her beautiful Honitonlace veil, nor her exquisite dress of some shimmering material, appealedto me in the very least. It was with difficulty I could keep the tearsout of my eyes by fixing them firmly on the back of my father's head. Inoticed again how bald he was getting, but then his shoulders were verybroad, and he did not stoop in the least, and he had a splendid manlysort of air. As I listened to the marriage service, I could not helpthinking of that other time, ages ago in his life, when he took my youngmother to wife, my mother who had died when I was a baby. He was youngthen, and so was the bride--oh, I had no sympathy with his secondmarriage!
Lady Carrington insisted on my wearing a white dress, and when theceremony was over, we all went to the Westminster hotel, where therewere light refreshments, and tea and coffee, and champagne, which Ihated, and would only take in the smallest sips. By and by, Lady Helenwent upstairs to change her dress. She came down again in a magnificent"creation"--for that was the word I heard the ladies around medescribing it by--and a huge picture hat on her head. She kissed me onceor twice at the very last moment, and told me to be a good child. Ihated kisses as much as I hated her, but father, dear father, made upfor everything. He caught me in his arms and squeezed me tightly to hisbreast, and said: "God for ever bless you, dear little woman!" and thenthey went away, and Lady Carrington and I gazed at each other.
"Now, my dear Heather," she said cheerfully, "we are going to motor backto my house in order to change our dresses, so as to be in time forCaptain Carbury when he brings his car round for us. You remember, dear,that we are going to Hampton Court to-day, and we haven't a minute tospare."
"Oh, not a minute," I replied, and I tried to feel cheered up andexcited.
After a time Captain Carbury made his appearance, and if I had no otherreason for wishing to behave bravely just then, I would not for theworld show cowardice before the man who had put me into his gallery ofheroines.
We motored down to Hampton Court, and the Captain proved himself to be avery merry guide, so much so that I found myself laughing in spite of mysorrow, and whenever I did so Lady Carrington gave me an approvingsmile.
"I have been telling Heather about you and Dorothy, Vernon," she said,after we had been all over the old palace, and found ourselves havingtea at one of the hotels which faced the river.
Captain Carbury gave me a quick glance, a little puzzled, a little sad,a sort of glance which amazed me at the time, and the meaning of which Iwas not to understand until afterwards.
"You must get to know Dorothy some day," he said. "I have her picturehere"--he tapped his watch-pocket--"I will show it you by and by."
As he said this, he looked full into my eyes, and I noticed more thanever the sad expression in his. I wondered at this, and then my thoughtswandered to Lady Dorothy Vinguard. What sort of a girl was she? Was shenice enough to marry the man who occupied a place in my gallery ofheroes?
I spent a fairly happy fortnight with Lady Carrington. She was kindnessitself to me, and she gave me a great deal of valuable advice. She tookme to see many interesting sights, and Captain Carbury came to the housealmost every day. One day he brought Lady Dorothy to see me. I wasseated in the inner drawing-room when a tall, very pale, slender girl,most beautifully dressed, entered the room. Her face was exactly likethat of a waxen doll; it had not a scrap of expression in it, neitherwas it in the very least disagreeable. My first impression when I lookedat her was that she wanted intelligence, but then I changed my mind, forher light-blue eyes were peculiarly watchful, and she kept looking andlooking at me, as though she would read me through. It was impossible totell whether Captain Carbury was devoted to her or not; she ordered himabout a good deal, and he obeyed her slightest behests. She kept all theconversation to herself, too, and neither he nor I could edge in aword. I never met anyone who talked so fast, and yet who seemed to saynothing at all. Each subject she began to speak about she changed foranother before we had begun even to think of what we meant to reply.Thus her conversation gave me at last a feeling of intense fatigue, andI wondered how a really clever and earnest-minded man like CaptainCarbury could endure the thought of spending his life with her.
He went out of the room after a time, and then she told me, with a greatyawn, that he was a perfect lover, and that she herself was intenselyhappy.
"You, of course, will fall in love and get engaged some day," she said."You are rather good-looking, in the old-world style; personally, Iadmire the up to date sort of beauty myself, and so, I know, doesVernon. He hates the people who are, as he expresses it, 'all fire andflash in the pan.' That is, I am sure, how he would describe you, if hetroubled himself to describe you at all."
"I don't think he would," I said, turning very red. I longed to tellthis haughty girl that I was in his gallery of heroines, but I feltinstinctively that such a piece of information would only make herjealous, and therefore I refrained.
By and by Captain Carbury returned, and they both went away. Shecertainly was very dainty. She was like a piece of exquisite china, and,as I said afterwards to Lady Carrington, when she wanted to get myopinion with regard to her:
"I felt almost afraid to look at her, for fear she should break."
Lady Carrington laughed at my description, and said she did not knowthat I was such a keen observer of character.
This was my very last day with my kindest of friends, for on the next Iwas to go to Lady Helen's house in Hanbury Square. I knew nothingwhatever with regard to this part of London, nor where the smartesthouses were, nor where the "classy people," as they called themselves,resided, but Lady Carrington informed me that Hanbury Square was in thevery heart of the fashionable world, and that Lady Helen's house was oneof the largest and handsomest in the whole square.
"But why is it called Lady Helen's house?" I asked. "Surely it is myfather's."
"Of course it is," she replied, and she looked a little grave, just asthough she were holding something back. How often I had seen that lookin her face--and how often, how very often, had it puzzled me, and howcompletely I had failed to understand it. I did love Lady Carrington;she was good to me, and when I bade her good-bye the next morning thetears filled my eyes.
"Now understand, Heather," she said, "that whenever you want me I am atyour service. A new life is opening before you, my child, but I shall,of course, be your friend, for your dead mother's sake, and for----"
"Yes, yes?" I cried. "Say the rest, say the rest!"
"And, little Heather, for the memory of what your father was."
"I don't understand you," I said; "you hint and hint things against myown darling father--oh! don't do it again! Speak out if you must, butdon't hint things ever again!"
"Think nothing of my words," said Lady Carrington; "forget that theywere uttered. Don't turn against me, little Heather; you may need myfriendship."
I was, indeed, to need that friendship, and right soon. But I feltalmost angry with Lady Carrington as I drove away.
Certainly the house in Hanbury Square was very smart; it had all beennewly got-up, in preparation for the bride. There was new paint outside,and new paint and beautiful wainscots and soft papers within, and therewere flower-boxes at every window, and the floors were covered withheavy-piled carpets, and there were knick-knacks and flowers and verycostly furniture greeting one at each turn. It was a big house, in shorta mansion, with front stairs and back stairs, and rooms innumerable. Avery lovely room had been set aside for me. It was called the"Forget-me-not" room, and was on the first floor. I had a bathroom, withhot and cold water laid on, quite to myself; I also had a dressing-room,with a wonderful toilet table and wash-hand sta
nd and appliances for thetoilet. And in my bedroom was a great wardrobe made of walnut wood, andthe beautiful little bed had lace-trimmed pillow-slips and sheets. UntilI entered this room I had never even imagined such luxury.
A very neat, quiet-looking girl, who told me her name was Morris, met meon the threshold of my room.
"I am your special maid, miss," she said. "Lady Helen said I was to doeverything in my power to help you."
"But you are not Anastasia," I replied.
The girl started back, and stared at me.
"Who is Anastasia, miss?" she asked, after a minute's pause.
"Oh," I answered, "Anastasia is my dear old nurse; she brought me homefrom India years and years ago, and afterwards I lost her. I want fatherto find her again for me, for I really wish her to be my maid."
"You will perhaps speak to my mistress, miss," replied Morris, in ademure voice.
"Why so?" I asked. "I shall speak to my father, Major Grayson."
The girl made no answer, but I noticed that a smile, a peculiar smile,lingered round her lips.
"Perhaps, miss," she said, after a pause, "I had best begin to unpackyour trunks, for her ladyship and the Major may be here by tea time,and, of course, you will like to be ready to meet them, and you'd wishme to arrange your hair, and help you on with your afternoon frockbefore they come."
I took some keys out of a little bag I wore at my side.
"Do as you please," I said.
I sat on a low chair and watched her. Then I said, suddenly:
"I am horribly sick of dress!"
"Oh, miss!" remarked Morris, raising her placid face to mine, for shewas on her knees by this time, unfastening my largest trunk, "I didthink that young ladies lived for their dress."
"Well, I am not one of those young ladies," was my reply. "I neverthought of dress until a few weeks ago. I used to put on the dress I wasto wear when I first got up in the morning, and I never thought of itagain until I took it off to go to bed."
"You must have lived in a very quiet way, miss."
"I lived in a sensible way," I replied.
"I should not like it for myself, miss."
"Perhaps not, perhaps you are vain--I can't bear vain people."
The girl coloured, and bent again over the trunk. I rested my elbows onmy knees, pressed my hands against my cheeks, and stared at her.
"I don't wish to offend you, Morris," I said; "I want us two to befriends."
"Thank you, miss."
"But I do wish to say," I continued, "that I consider it awfullyfrivolous to have to put on a special dress for morning, and anotherdress for afternoon, and yet another dress, just when tea comes in, andanother dress for dinner. Privately, I think it quite wicked, and I amsure you must agree with me."
"It is what's done in society, miss," answered the girl. "They all dolike that, those who move in the best society."
She began to unpack rapidly, and I watched her. I reflected withinmyself that I had left Hill View with no clothes except the ones I waswearing, and what were contained in my tiny trunks. Now I had severalbig trunks, and they were crammed, pressed full, with the newest andmost wonderful dresses; and besides the dresses there were mantles, andcoats, and opera cloaks, and all sorts of the most exquisite, the mostperfect underclothing in the world. Morris was a quick lady's maid; sheevidently understood her duties thoroughly well. She had soon unpackedmy trunks, and then she suggested that I should wear a dress of thepalest, most heavenly blue, in order to greet her ladyship and MajorGrayson. I said, "Is it necessary?" and she replied, "Certainly it is,"and after that I submitted to her manipulations. She helped me into mydress, arranged my hair in a simple and very becoming manner, and thenshe looked at me critically.
"Am I all right now?" I asked.
"Yes, miss, I think you will do beautifully."
I thanked her, and ran downstairs. There were three, or even fourdrawing-rooms to the house, each one opening into the other. I chose thesmallest drawing-room, ensconced myself in an easy-chair, and tried toimagine that I was about to enjoy everything; but my heart was beatinghorribly, and I came to the conclusion that every one of the fourdrawing-rooms was hideous. They were not the least like the receptionrooms at Lady Carrington's. There the furniture was rich, and yetsimple; there was no sense of overcrowding, the tables were not ladenwith knick-knacks, and there were comparatively few chairs and lounges,only just enough for people to use. The walls were undecorated, exceptby one or two pictures, the works of masters. There were not more thantwo pictures in each room, for Lady Carrington had assured me thatpictures were the richest ornaments of all, and I fully agreed with her.Now these rooms were totally different--the chairs, the tables, thesofas, the lounges, the grand piano, the little piano, the harpsichord,the spinning-wheel, the pianola, gave one a sense of downrightoppression. The walls were laden with pictures of every sort anddescription--some of them I did not admire in the very least; and therewas old china and old glass, very beautiful, I had little doubt, but tome extremely inharmonious. I discovered soon that what these roomsneeded was a sense of rest. There was not a single spot where the eyecould remain quiet; wherever one looked one felt inclined to start andexclaim, and jump up and examine. I came to the conclusion that Ipreferred Aunt Penelope's very plain little drawing-room at home tothis.
By and by an exceedingly tall young man in smart blue livery threw openthe folding doors, and another equally tall young man in the same liveryentered with a silver tray. The man who first came into the room pulledout a table and placed the tray on it, and presently a third manappeared with quantities of food. The first man poked up the fire, thesecond acquainted me with the fact that tea was quite ready, andafterwards the three left the room, closing the door softly behind them.Their velvet tread oppressed me; I wanted the door to bang; I wantedto hear a good, loud, wholesome noise.
Yes, I was at home in my father's house, but truth to tell, I had neverfelt less home-like in the whole course of my life. I poured myself outa cup of tea, and ate a morsel of bread and butter. Suddenly, before Ihad finished my first cup of tea, I heard quick sounds in the hall;there were footsteps, and several voices speaking together; peopleseemed to be rushing hither and thither, and I heard a staccato voicemingling with the tones of a deep one, a deep one that I knew and loved.Then the voices and the footsteps came nearer, until a big man and alady entered the outer drawing-room and came straight into the littleroom where I was sitting. The man smiled all over his face, said,"Hallo, little woman!" caught me up in his arms and kissed me; the ladysaid coldly, "How do you do, child? Pour me out a cup of tea, and bequick; I am fainting with exhaustion. Gordon, will you go upstairs andtake your great-coat off, and then come down and have tea like aChristian?"
"Oh, but he must stay," I answered, for I was feeling his face andkissing him over and over, and rubbing my cheek against his.
"'Oh, but he must stay,' I answered".]
"Gordon, please go at once," said his wife.
My hands were released, the blue eyes of Major Grayson looked full intomine. Certainly father's eyes were the most wonderful in all the world.They seemed to me to hold within their depths a mixture of every sort ofemotion, of fun, of reluctant, half ashamed, half pleased, half boyishpenitence, of sorrow, of a pathos which was always there and always halfhidden, and also of a queer and indescribable nobility, which,notwithstanding the fact that I had not seen him for years, andnotwithstanding the other fact that he had married a worldly woman whenhe might have made me so happy, seemed to have grown and strengthened onhis face. He kissed one of his hands to me, raised Lady Helen's jewelledhand to his lips, bowed to her, smiled, and departed.
"He has charming manners," she said, and then she turned to me.
"Bring me food, child," she said; "I want you to wait on me to-day; I amtired; we had a very rough crossing. To-morrow I shall take you in hand,but you are tremendously improved already. Yes, your father hasdelightful manners--we shall win through yet; but it will be a battle."
"What do you mean by 'winning through'?" I asked.
"Nothing that you need interfere about," she answered, a little sharply;"only listen to me once for all. I am not Lady Helen Dalrymple fornothing, and when I stoop to conquer I do conquer. Now then, fetch methe cake basket; I am ravenously hungry and have a passion forchocolate."
I gave her what she required, and she ate without looking at me, hersharp eyes wandering round and round the room.
"Why, how hideous!" she suddenly exclaimed. "How more than wrong ofClarkson! I gave orders that the curtains in this room were to berose-pink; those dull blue abominations must come down; we won't havethem--they'd try anyone's complexion. Child, for goodness' sake don'tstare! And yet, come and let me look at you. That blue dress suits you;but then you are young, and you have a complexion for blue."
She patted my hand for a minute, then she yawned profoundly.
"I am glad to be home," she said. "A honeymoon when you are no longeryoung is fatiguing, to say the least of it, and I am sick of hotellife. I have already sent out my 'At Home' invitations, and for the nextfew days the house will be crammed every afternoon. You will have to bepresent--why, of course, you will--don't knit your brows together likethat. I mean to be a good stepmother to you, Heather. Ah, here comesGordon. Gordon, you look very presentable now. Sit close to me on thissofa, and let Heather give you some tea. It's nice to have one's owngirl to wait on one, isn't it?"
"Profoundly nice," said the Major; "exquisitely nice. To think that wehave a child of our very own, Helen!"
"I don't think about it," replied Lady Helen. "It isn't my custom towear myself out going into raptures, but, Gordon, I am very seriouslydispleased about those curtains."
"Curtains, dear--what ails them? I see nothing wrong in them."
"But I do. I told Clarkson's people rose-colour, soft rose-colour, andthey sent blue--I will never get anything at Clarkson's again."
"They must be changed, sweetest one," replied my father.
I was giving him a cup of tea just then, and my hand shook. Mystepmother noticed this; she said, in a sharp voice:
"Heather, get me a fan; that fire will spoil my complexion."
I fetched her one. She held it between herself and the fire.
"By the way, Gordon," she said suddenly, "we had better tell the childnow."
"Oh, what?" I asked in some astonishment and also alarm.
"Really, Heather, you need not give way to such undue excitement. A yearof my training will completely change you. I only wished to mention thefact that your name is no longer Grayson; in future you are HeatherDalrymple. Your father and I have agreed that you both take my name;that is a thing often done when there is a question of money. I hold thepurse strings. I am a very generous person as regards money; Major,dear, you can testify to that."
"I can, Helen. There never was your like, you are wonderful."
"You therefore are little Heather Dalrymple in future," continued mystepmother, "and your father and I are Major and Lady Helen Dalrymple.It's done, child, it's settled; the lawyers have arranged it all.Grayson is a frightful name; you ought to be truly thankful that it isin my power to change it for you. You need not even wait for yourmarriage; the change takes place at once."
"But I prefer my own name," I answered. "I don't want to have your name.Father, please speak--father, I am not Heather Dalrymple!"
"Oh, make no fuss about it, child," replied my father. "I have long agocome to the wise conclusion that nothing wears one out like making afuss. Now, my dear, good, sweet, little Heather, I grieve to have totell you that your disposition promises to land you in old age beforeyour time. You fuss about everything. You fussed yourself almost intoyour grave when I was obliged to leave you with Penelope Despard, andyet how good poor old Pen was to you all the time! And then you werevery impolite to your new mother when you heard that I was about to bemarried."
"Oh, I am willing to forget and forgive all that," said Lady Helen. "Thechild was young and taken by surprise. We enter to-day a new world. I domy best for her; she must do her best for me. If you are a good girl,Heather, you will see what a happy life you will have as my daughter."
"Please, please, father," I said, suddenly, "may I have Anastasia to bemy maid? There is a girl upstairs who calls herself Morris, and she saysshe is my maid, but I really do want Anastasia back."
"Ask her ladyship, and do it in a pretty way," said my father, and hegave my hand a playful pinch.
"And this carpet," muttered Lady Helen. "I particularly said that thecarpet was to be of a pale green, that sort of very soft green whichsets off everything, and it is--goodness gracious!--it is a sort of paleblue, not even the tone of the curtains. How atrocious! Yes, Heather,yes--what is it?"
"I do want to ask you, please," I said, "if Anastasia may come back?"
"Anastasia?" said Lady Helen. "I have never heard of her. Who is she?"
"She used to be my nurse when I was in India, and she sailed with fatherand me in the good ship _Pleiades_. Oh, father! don't you remember thecharm you gave me, and how we talked of gentle gales and prosperouswinds? And, father, here's the charm, the dear old charm!"
"When you talk to me," said Lady Helen, "you will have the goodness tolook at me. You want the woman--what did you say her name was?"
"Anastasia. It's quite a nice name," I answered. "I want her to be mymaid instead of Morris."
"To be your maid?"
"Please, please, Lady Helen."
"Can she sew? Can she make blouses? Can she arrange hair fashionably?Can she put on your dress as it ought to be put on? I may as well say atonce that I don't intend to take a pale, gawky girl about with me. Youmust look nice, as you can and will, if you have a proper maid, and Iattend to your clothes. Can she alter your dresses when they get alittle _outre_? In short, is the woman a lady's maid at all?"
"She used to be my nurse, and I love her," I answered stoutly.
"I cannot possibly have her back. Don't speak of it again. And now,Heather, I have something else to say. When you address me you are notto call me 'Lady Helen,' you are to say 'Mother.' The fact is, I can'tstand sentimental nonsense. Your own mother has been in her grave formany years. If I am to act as a mother to you, I intend to have thetitle. Now say the word; say this--say, 'Please, mother, may I goupstairs to my private sitting-room, and may I leave you and fatheralone together?' Say the words, Heather."
I turned very cold, and I have no doubt my face was white.
"Yes, Heather, say the words," cried father.
His blue eyes were extremely bright, and there was a spot of vividcolour on both his cheeks. He looked at me with such a world of longing,such an expression of almost fear, that for his sake I gave in.
"I will do what you wish for my father's sake," I said, slowly. "I amnot your child, and you are not my mother. My mother is in her grave,and when she lived her name was Grayson, not Dalrymple; but if it makesfather happy for me to say 'mother,' I will say it."
"It makes me most oppressively happy, my little Heather," cried myfather.
"Then I will do it for you, Daddy," I said.
Lady Helen frowned at me. I went slowly out of the room.
