A harum-scarum schoolgirl

by Angela Brazil

  CHAPTER XVI

  A Family Crest

  After the joys of Stratford-on-Avon came the delights of the rest of thefascinating Shakespeare villages. "Piping Pebworth", "Dancing Marston","Drunken Bidford", "Haunted Hillborough", "Hungry Grafton", "PapistWixford", and "Beggarly Broom" were visited and rejoiced over in turn;then the car wended its way from Warwickshire to sample the glories ofGloucestershire. Here, too, our pilgrims found plenty to arouse theirenthusiasm: the richness of the landscape, with orchards just breakinginto bloom; the slow winding rivers, with their willowy, reedy banks;the beautiful half-timbered manors and farms and the thatched cottagesset in a tangle of greenery, made an ideal picture of English countrylife. They saw it at the cream of the year, in all the glory of springtints and blossoms, and even if showers came on they put up the hood ofthe car and whisked along wet roads, admiring the freshness of therain-washed leaves and the effects of gathering storm-clouds overdistant hills. They were a full day's journey beyond Stratford whensuddenly there happened that most common misfortune to motorists,"something wrong with the car". Giles just managed to run her into thenearest village, then, stopping at the inn, he sent for the services ofthe blacksmith, who was somewhat of a mechanic, and with his aid set towork on repairs. Leaving Giles, with his coat off and his sleeves rolledup, crawling under the car and getting exceedingly oily and dusty in theprocess, the rest of the party set off to explore the neighbourhood onfoot. The village was so charming that they could really hardly grumbleat being held up there. Each cottage seemed a picture, with its thatchedor red-tiled roof, black-and-white walls, creeper-covered porch, and gaylittle garden. So luxuriant were the flowers that they even strayedthrough the railings and made bright borders among the grass at the edgeof the road; forget-me-nots were mixed up with dandelions, andwallflowers bloomed side by side with dead-nettles.

  At the end of the village, on a rise overlooking the river, stood theparish church, a grey, old Early-English building whose pricelessarchitecture had mercifully not been tampered with by the ruthless handof the so-called restorer. With a little difficulty Lenox found thecottage of the caretaker, whose wife presently came up clanking the bigkeys and unlocked the west door for them. The interior was mostbeautiful: the graceful sandstone pillars, the interlacing arches, thedelicate tracery of the windows with their old stained glass, the blackoak roof, the carved choir stalls, the ancient rood-screen, the blazonedshields and faded banners, the Lancastrian tombs and the Elizabethanbrasses, all combined to give that atmosphere which Milton expressed inhis _Il Penseroso_; and as the afternoon sunlight flooded through theold stained glass, and cast blue and crimson gleams on the tiled floorof the chancel, the glorious building seemed like the prayers of manygenerations crystallized into stone.

  Their guide, a young woman in a sun-bonnet, took them round to show themthe various points of interest. It was when they had duly examined thebanners and the Norman font, the carving on the miserere seats and themotto on the base of the lectern, and had listened rather wearily to thesing-song description of them poured out, like a lesson learned by rote,from the lips of their conductress, that in the side chapel they cameface to face with an ancient tomb. It was an unusually beautiful one,carved in marble, probably by some Italian master-craftsman of the latefifteenth century. A knight clad in full armour lay stretched out in hislast sleep; his clasped hands rested over the good sword whose handleformed a cross upon his breast; the attitude of the inclined head andthe sculpture of the strong, lined, noble face in its utter repose weremagnificent, and recalled the marvellous art that created the busts ofthe emperors in the days of Rome's zenith. Round the base of the tombwere small figures in the costume of the period, somewhat defaced andworn, with finely-carved pilasters between the panels. At the end was acoat of arms.

  Lenox walked round with the others, admiring the beauty of thesculpture, though rather bored by the eloquence of their guide. At sightof the coat of arms, however, he stopped and whistled.

  "By all that's wonderful, that's our family crest!" he exclaimed.

  Here was an excitement! At once the whole party began to examine theancient, worn escutcheon, on which was depicted a chained eagle with acrown on its head, three arrows, and the motto _Manu et corde_ (withhand and heart).

  "It's _exactly_ the same!" declared Lenox. "Dad has a copy of the crestin an old book that his grandfather brought out from England more than ahundred years ago."

  "It's the arms of the de Cliffords," said their guide, shaken out of hersing-song recitation into first-hand information. "You'll find the samecrest on those monuments over there in the nave."

  "Dad always said we were descended from an old family," rejoined Lenox,immensely thrilled.

  That their young cousin should have discovered the tombs of hisancestors in the village church was certainly a matter of great interestto the Hewlitts. They besieged their guide with questions. She could notreally tell them very much, except that from mediaeval times theCliffords had owned the soil, and that the Manor House was now in thepossession of Mrs. Elliot, a daughter of old Squire Clifford who haddied many years ago.

  "It was before I was born, but I've heard my father speak of him," sheadded.

  "Where is the Manor House?" asked Lenox eagerly.

  "Two miles beyond the village. It's a beautiful old place too, with amoat round it, and big stone gates."

  "Is it possible to look over it?"

  The guide shook her head emphatically.

  "No. Mrs. Elliot won't have anyone coming. She's an old lady and veryinfirm, and she can't bear to see strangers about the place. At one timeshe'd let people look round with a guide, but she found them sobothersome she stopped it. One day some Americans came and peepedthrough the windows when she was having her lunch, and wouldn't goaway."

  "I'm sorry they were Americans," put in Mrs. Hewlitt. "My countrymendon't often so forget their manners, I'm glad to say."

  "Well, at any rate," smiled the guide, "both English and Americans madethemselves nuisances, and she wouldn't let any more tourists come near.She has the great gates locked, and whoever wants to go in, no matter onwhat errand, must ring the lodge-keeper's bell, and it's only her ownvisitors, or the tradespeople with meat and groceries and such like asare admitted. They say she's gone almost queer in her head about it."

  "What a pity!" sighed Diana.

  "Still, you can hardly blame her," added Mrs. Hewlitt. "It must be verytrying to live in a show place. I'm afraid, Lenox, you'll have to giveup the idea of going over it. Is anything to be seen from the road?"

  "Nothing of the house; it's all hidden by the trees. You can only seethe great gates."

  "It would hardly be worth a four-mile walk, just for the gates," decidedMrs. Hewlitt. "If the car's not ready yet we'll just take a conveyanceand drive to Ratcliffe this afternoon."

  The car repair proved a tougher job than either Giles or the blacksmithhad anticipated, and, as it apparently could not be finished for manyhours, the Hewlitts arranged to make an excursion in a wagonette, and,as the inn seemed comfortable, to return to the village, spend the nightthere, and proceed on their way the next morning. Though her mother haddismissed all question of visiting the old Manor House, Diana stillharped on the subject. She and Lenox talked it over in private afterdinner. They were sitting in the porch of the hotel, watching the lightsbegin to gleam in the windows down the village street. Mr. and Mrs.Hewlitt were writing letters; Giles and Loveday had disappeared into thegarden to try to hear a nightingale reputed to sing there.

  "Len," said Diana, "you oughtn't to leave this place without seeing yourancestral home. Think of having an ancient ancestral family home! It'san immense idea! Aren't you just crazy to go and look at it?"

  Lenox rolled his cigarette carefully, and lighted it before replying.

  "So crazy that I mean to go," he admitted at last. "Don't say anythingabout it to the others, but I'm planning to get up early, climb over theManor House wall, and take a peep at the outside of the old place at anyra
te before anybody's about. That much won't do the old lady's nervesany harm. Besides, who's to find out?"

  "What a ripping notion!" Diana drew her breath admiringly. "Oh, Len, I_must_ go too! I simply _must_! I'd give everything in the world to seeyour family manor. That woman said it has a moat. I've never seen a realmoated British manor."

  "If you could be up by five?" suggested Lenox.

  "Couldn't I? Just you wait and see! I'll be all dressed and ready andstanding in the hall by five o'clock. Oh, what _topping_ fun! Don't letus tell a soul about it. We'll just keep it to ourselves."

  "_Ra_--ther! I'm not going prating about my plans, I can tell you."

  Diana was almost sorry that her mouse scare had made her decide to sleepwith Loveday. She did not want to be questioned beforehand about herexpedition. Fortunately her room-mate was very sleepy next morning, andslumbered tranquilly on while the stealthy process of early dressingwent forward. She did not lift an eyelid when Diana opened the door andcrept downstairs. The big clock on the landing had not yet struck five,but Lenox was already waiting in the hall. He grinned as Diana joinedhim.

  "You _are_ a sport!" he whispered.

  They let themselves out softly, and in another minute were walking downthe village street. The clocks were at "summer time", an hour forward,so it was really only four o'clock. The sun had not risen yet, though itwas quite light already. The air felt deliciously fresh, birds weresinging, and cattle lowing. Here and there a cottage door opened, and alabourer came out, who looked at them with speculative curiosity as theypassed by. They were soon through the village and along the road thatled in the direction of the Manor. On either side lay pastures withclumps of yellow cowslips, the faint fragrance of which was wafted onthe pleasant air. Diana could not resist scaling a fence and going togather some, though she got her shoes soaked with the morning dew. Downa hill, along the river side, and up through a long avenue of elms ranthe road, till at last a high oak fence took the place of the hedge;this in its turn gave way to a wall, and presently to the left loomed apair of great ornamental iron gates, with a lodge at the side.

  An archway across, surmounted by a stone escutcheon, bore the Cliffordcrest, so there was no doubt that they had reached their destination.The gates were padlocked together, and the blinds were drawn in thelodge; evidently the keeper was not an early bird.

  "How are we going to get in?" asked Diana.

  "Not here, certainly. We'll go back to that oak paling, and climb over.Don't you feel as if we were poachers?"

  "Yes, or burglars! I guess we've got to burgle quietly. Hope the oldlady hasn't set man-traps in her park."

  "Or doesn't leave savage bloodhounds to roam at large and guard thepremises. Well, we shall have to take our chance. It's rather likestorming a fortress--isn't it?"

  "I call it precious!" chuckled Diana.

  The fence did not look too easy to scale. It was of solid oak pales setupright, and was about six feet in height. Its straight surface did notoffer any foothold. For some distance they wandered along, ratherdiscouraged, but at last an overhanging tree seemed to promise hope.Lenox lifted up Diana till she could catch hold of a branch, then, withconsiderable boosting and scrambling, she swung herself over. Lenoxdropped after her directly, and the adventurous pair stood within thepark.

  So far, so good. They were certainly trespassing, but they consideredthat their errand justified the deed. Lenox had brought his hand camera,and hoped to get a snap-shot of the old place to take back to America toshow his father. He had ascertained that no picture post cards of itwere obtainable in the village. They could see the twisted chimneysrising over the top of a thick grove of trees and shrubs, so they turnedtheir steps in that direction. Over some grassy park-like land theytramped, where rabbits were still scuttling about, and a few tame deerwere grazing; then through a thicket of trees and under a belt ofornamental shrubs. All at once, as they scrambled from the shade of somerhododendrons, they caught their first view of the Manor. It was aglorious old mansion, built partly in half-timber and partly in greystone, with an embattled tower for entrance, and a stone bridge crossingthe moat that encircled the walls. The morning sun shone direct on itsmullioned, diamond-paned windows, its twisted chimney stalks, ivy-cladwalls, and smooth, green stretch of water. Nothing could have been morecharming for a photograph, and, to make the picture absolutely perfect,a pair of stately swans came sailing along the moat. Lenox pulled hiscamera from its case, ventured forth from the cover of the bushes, andbegan to focus. Diana followed closely at his elbow. They were brimfulof excitement. Here they were actually facing the "ancestral home" ofthe Clifford family.

  "Don't you wish you lived here?" sighed Diana.

  "Rather! But no such luck!"

  "If the old lady has no children perhaps you'll turn out to be theheir," said Diana wistfully.

  "She has nephews," said Lenox, dashing her hopes. "Besides, we must be avery far-off branch of the family tree. It's a hundred years since wesettled in America. Now don't nudge me. I've just got the thingfocused--swans and all."

  Lenox pressed the button, and turned the film on to No. 2, then lookedabout him.

  "I'm going to take the whole half-dozen," he announced. "Let's move onand get a different view."

  There was not a soul to be seen. With the exception of the swans, theinhabitants of the Manor did not seem to be early risers. Lenox andDiana grew bolder, and ventured nearer. By degrees they got right to theedge of the moat. The view here was beautiful, for it took in the bridgeand the embattled tower, with the coat of arms over the doorway. It wasexactly what they wanted to carry home to America. Lenox snapped it withhuge satisfaction, including the swans, which luckily swam into thescene at the psychological moment.

  "I'd give worlds to be able to go inside and explore," said Diana. "Iwish I could make myself invisible. D'you think we dare just toddleacross the bridge, and perhaps peep in through a window? There's nobodywatching. O-o-o-oh!"

  She might well exclaim, for, in direct contradiction to her words, thedoor at that moment opened, and an elderly lady made her appearance. Shewalked slowly with the aid of a cane, but it was evident that she hadseen the intruders on her property, and was coming to tackle them.Swift and hasty flight seemed the only way out of the difficulty.

  "Quick, Lenox! Run!" gasped Diana.

  She turned, as she spoke, to make a dash for the cover of the shrubs,but in her hurry and agitation she tripped on her dangling shoe lace,missed her footing, slipped, tumbled down the bank, and fell backwardswith a splash into the moat.

  It was not very deep, and Lenox hauled her out in a minute. There shestood upon the bank a dripping object, her nice dress all coated withduckweed and green slime. Her hat was floating away in the direction ofthe swans. The lady had crossed the bridge, and with the help of hercane walked painfully down the bank. Lenox and Diana felt like a pair ofnaughty school children caught stealing apples. The situation was mostignominious. Their faces would have made a study for a comic artist,especially Diana's, with smears of duckweed on her cheeks, and her moisthair hanging over her shoulders. They wondered what Mrs. Elliot wasgoing to say to them.

  She came slowly up, blinking her eyes rather nervously, looked Dianaover from dripping head to muddy shoes, then made the obvious comment:

  "You're very wet!"

  "Ye-e-es!" shivered Diana, with chattering teeth.

  "You'd better come indoors and have your clothes dried."

  The relief of receiving such a charitable reception, instead of thestern rebuke they felt they deserved, was intense. Lenox suddenly burstinto a flood of gentlemanly apologies. He explained rapidly that hisname was Clifford, that he had seen his father's coat of arms in thechurch, and had been tempted to trespass in order to secure somephotographs of the house that was probably the old home of their family.Mrs. Elliot listened till he had finished.

  "I'd have given you permission if you had asked," she replied calmly."Now it's time that your sister--cousin, is she?--took off those wetclothes,
or she'll catch cold."

  Diana marvelled at Mrs. Elliot's goodness. She was taken indoors, andlent some garments while her own were dried. The household was anearlier one than they had supposed, and in answer to the mistress's bellcame servants who were too well trained to express surprise in theirfaces at the sight of a dripping visitor. An elderly maid showed Dianato a bedroom, rubbed her hair for her with a towel, helped her into apink silk kimono dressing-gown, and brought her a cup of hot tea. Theseprecautions against cold having been taken, Mrs. Elliot most kindlyvolunteered to show the young people over the house. It was a funnylittle procession: the elderly lady with her cane; Lenox, in his khaki,still blurting out apologies; and Diana trailing the pink kimono, whichwas much too long, and shuffling in bronze-beaded shoes that were twosizes too large. The glories of the old Manor left them gasping: thebig banqueting hall with its armour and tapestries, the panelled oakboudoir, the library with its family portraits, the wide staircase, thedrawing-room with its cabinets and priceless china, the state bedroomwith the carved four-post bed where Queen Anne had slept, the courtyardand dove-cote where pigeons were strutting and preening their feathers,and the little chapel with its coats of arms in the stained glass, andchained Bible. Through a window they could see the garden, with clippedyew hedges and smooth lawn, and a peacock spreading its gorgeous tail tothe morning sun.

  "If your great-grandfather went to America a hundred years ago you areprobably descended from either Guy, Charles, or Humphrey Clifford," saidMrs. Elliot, showing Lenox a family genealogical tree that hung in thehall.

  "I know my great-grandfather's name was Humphrey," answered Lenox, "andthe dates would seem to correspond."

  Diana's clothes were dried at last, and brushed. Even her hat, by theaid of a fishing-rod, had been recovered from the moat. Though rathercrushed and spoilt they were quite wearable. She felt herself again whenshe had put them on. Mrs. Elliot sent a servant to conduct the youngpeople to the lodge, and order the gate to be unlocked for their exit.She received their renewed apologies and thanks in the same calm mannerin which she had greeted them.

  "I hope the photos will come out well," were her last words, as shestood at the door watching them walk across the bridge.

  When Lenox and Diana returned to the inn, and burst upon the rest of theparty, who were having breakfast, their extraordinary story was at firstscarcely believed.

  "Bunkum, my boy!" said Giles, shaking his head.

  But the two witnesses gave such a circumstantial account of theiradventure that incredulity turned to amazement, and then amusement.

  "You cheeky young cubs!" declared Mr. Hewlitt. "I think Mrs. Elliot wasfar too good to you."

  "You got more than you deserved; but I'm grateful to her for drying you,Diana," commented Mrs. Hewlitt.

  "I wish we'd been with you," said Giles. "You've had all the luck."

  As the car was now repaired, the party once more packed up theirbaggage, and set forth for the short remainder of their tour. Lenox'sleave was nearly over; Giles would be due in London next week; and Mr.Hewlitt's business in Paris was not yet concluded. After another day'senjoyment they parted at Cheltenham, and sent the girls back to schoolby train.

  "We shan't forget you, dear," said Mrs. Hewlitt to Loveday, as she sawthem off. "You must come and see us again some time--perhaps inAmerica. Take care of my little Diana for me--won't you?"

  "I will--I will, indeed! Oh, I don't know how to thank you! It's beenjust the absolute time of my life!" said Loveday, leaning out of thecarriage window as she waved good-bye.