CHAPTER V.
FAIRY MAGNIFICENT.
"Leave no stone unturned."
EURIPIDES.
"What is useful is beautiful."
SOCRATES.
"Wish me good luck, and do not expect me until you see me," wereWaveney's last words, as Mollie stood at the door with a very woe-begoneface. "Cheer up, Moll. Care killed the cat, you know;" and then shewaved her hand and vanished.
It was still quite early in the afternoon when she reached BerkeleySquare. In spite of her assumed cheerfulness, her courage was at a lowebb. The imposing appearance of the houses awed her; she knockedtimidly, and the butler who opened the door looked like a dignified andvenerable clergyman.
He received her affably, as though she were an expected guest. MissHarford was out driving, but would be back shortly; his mistress, Mrs.Mainwaring, had desired that Miss Ward should be shown into thedrawing-room.
Waveney never felt so small and insignificant in her life. For the firsttime she was conscious of a wish to be tall, as she followed him downthe corridor. Then the thickness of the carpets distracted her, and thecabinets of china. Then a door was opened, and she heard her nameannounced, and a soft little voice said, "Certainly, Druce. Show theyoung lady in."
For one moment Waveney hesitated. The owner of the voice seemedinvisible. It was a beautiful room, grander than anything that the girlhad ever seen, and it was full of sunshine and the scent of flowers.Tall palms were everywhere, and china pots with wonderful Japanesechrysanthemums, and there were screens and standard lamps, and acurtained archway leading to an inner room; and here Waveney at lastdiscovered a tiny old lady, half buried in an immense easy chair. Shewas the prettiest old lady in the world, but as diminutive as a fairy;her cheeks were as pink as Mollie's; and she had beautiful silvery curlsunder her lace cap. A mass of white, fleecy knitting lay on her satinlap, and the small, wrinkled fingers were loaded with costly brilliants.
"Fairy Magnificent," Waveney named her when she was retailing theaccount of her visit. She looked up with a pleasant smile, and pointedto a chair. "You have called to see my niece, Miss Harford--oh yes, sheis expecting you, but she was obliged to pay a business visit; my niecesare busy women, Miss Ward--perhaps you will find that out for yourselfsome day." Waveney began to feel less shy; she looked round the roomthat she might describe it properly to Mollie. How Mollie revelled inthat description afterwards; it was like a page in a story book--flowersand statues and palms, and that beautiful old lady in her satin gown.
Fairy Magnificent was evidently fond of talking, for she rippled on, inher soft voice, like a little purling brook, knitting all the time.
"Oh, we all have our gifts, my dear, but I am afraid in my day girlswere terribly worldly; it was not the fashion to cultivate philanthropyor altruism, as they call it. I recollect a young man asking one of mynieces if they went in for 'slumming.' I wonder what we should havethought of such a question when I was young."
"Does Miss Harford do that sort of thing?" asked Waveney, with somethingof her old animation. She was such a dear little old lady--like a pieceof Dresden china.
"Oh, not slumming exactly--they are too sensible to take up everypassing craze; but they do an immense deal of good. They have a Home forgovernesses and broken-down workers very near them at Erpingham, andthey have a room in the garden where they do all sorts of things. Theyhave Thursday evenings for shop-girls, regular social evenings--tea, andmusic, and talk; and the girls are as nicely behaved as possible."
"Oh, what a grand idea!" and Waveney's eyes began to gleam and sparkle."I have always been so sorry for shop-girls. I think they have such ahard, pushing sort of life. The poor things are often so tired, but theyhave to look pleasant all the same."
Mrs. Mainwaring looked amused at the girl's energy, but before she couldreply there were quick, decided footsteps in the outer room, and thenext moment a tall, dark woman in walking-dress entered.
When Waveney rose from her chair, the lady looked at her with extremesurprise.
"Miss Ward, I suppose;" and her manner was a little brusque. "Please sitdown again, and I will speak to you directly. Aunt Sara, may I have thecarriage, please. Morris says the horses are quite fresh. I find theletter that I expected is at the Red House, so it will be better for meto talk it all over with Althea."
"Do as you like, Doreen," returned Mrs. Mainwaring, tranquilly; "but youmust attend to this young lady first, you know;" and then Miss Harfordtook a seat near Waveney.
The girl was suffering from a sense of painful disillusion. Mrs.Mainwaring's talk had given her a favourable idea of Miss Harford, butwhen she saw her, her first thoughts were "What a grievous pity thatsuch a good woman should be so plain!" But the next moment she added,"Plain is too mild a term; she is really quite ugly;" and it could notbe denied that Dame Nature had treated Miss Harford somewhat churlishly.
Her figure was angular, and a little clumsy, and not even her well-cuttailor-made tweed could set it off to advantage. Her features werestrongly marked, and her complexion sallow, and her low forehead andheavy eyebrows gave her rather a severe look. She could not be less thanforty, probably a year or two over that, but there was no affectation ofyouth, either in dress or manner.
Perhaps the only point in her favour was a certain frankness andsincerity in her expression that, after a time, appealed to people; andyet her eyes were a light, cold grey. Strangers seldom took to her atfirst--her quick, decided manners were rather too brusque, and then hervoice was so harsh and deep; but they soon found out that she was to betrusted, and by-and-by they grew to love her.
Doreen Harford always spoke of herself as the "ugly duckling," who wouldnever change into a swan in this world.
"I never do anything by halves," she would say, laughing, and her laughwas as fresh and ringing as a child's, though, perhaps, a little hard."I am as ugly as they make them, my dear,"--for she was too happy andbusy a woman to fret over her lack of beauty, though she adored itwhenever she found it, and petted all the pretty children and animals.
"There's Aunt Sara," she would go on, "is she not like one of Watteau'sShepherdesses? Did you ever see anything so fine and pink anddainty?--and she is seventy-three. She has had lovers by the score, andshe was only a young woman when General Mainwaring died; but she wouldnever marry again, bless her!"
When Miss Harford sat down she pulled off her gloves in rather adisturbed manner.
"I was sorry to keep you waiting, but I had to go out on urgentbusiness. You are very young, Miss Ward--younger than I expected, andthan Miss Warburton led me to suppose."
She spoke in a slightly aggressive voice, as though Miss Ward weresomehow to blame for her youthful aspect.
"That will mend in time, Doreen, my love," observed Mrs. Mainwaring,kindly. "I think Miss Ward seems a very sensible young lady." And thenWaveney longed to hug her.
"I am nineteen," she said, looking Miss Harford full in the face. "Thatis not so very young, after all; and I have acted as secretary to a ladyin Cheyne Walk. It was only a morning engagement, certainly, but MissWarburton knows all about me, and she thought this situation would justsuit me. I am fond of reading aloud, and I never get tired, and----"
"Doreen, if you do not engage this young lady, I think I shall." ButMrs. Mainwaring was only joking, as her niece knew well, for it wouldhave been more than her life was worth to do such a thing.
For Fairy Magnificent had a faithful maid who simply worshipped her, andwould have fought any woman who offered to do her service. Her mistresswanted no paid companion as long as she was in the house, she would say;and as Rachel ruled her mistress--and, indeed, the whole household,there was little probability of her indulging in this luxury.
Miss Harford's face brightened. She understood the purport of her aunt'slittle joke: she liked Miss Ward, and wished her niece to engage her.
"Althea will not mind her being young," she said, significantly; andthen Miss Harford turned to Waveney.
"I understand," returned Waveney, in a low voice.
"Our doctor is an old friend and a very sensible man," continued MissHarford, "and he proposed that my sister should find some young ladywith a good voice and pleasant manner who would read to her, especiallyin the evenings, when nothing is going on, and to whom she could dictateletters."
"Oh, I am sure I could do that," returned Waveney, eagerly; and thenMrs. Mainwaring chimed in again.
"My dear, I am an old woman, so you may believe me. My nieces are thebest women I know, and they make every one happy at the Red House."
"Now, Aunt Sara," returned Miss Harford, good humouredly, "how are MissWard and I to understand each other if you will keep interrupting us?You see, Miss Ward, the duties are very light, and you will have plentyof time to yourself. We want some one young and cheerful who will makeherself at home and be ready for any little service. Are you musical?"
"I can sing a little but my voice has not been well trained."
"That is a pity. Now should you mind reading us a page or two?" And shehanded her a novel that was lying open on the table.
Waveney flushed, but she took the book at once. For the first fewminutes her voice trembled: then she thought of the new gown she wantedto buy for Mollie at Christmas, and then it grew steady.
"Miss Ward reads very nicely, does she not, Aunt Sara?" was MissHarford's approving comment. "I think Althea will be pleased." Thenturning to Waveney with a pleasant smile that lit up her homely featuresas sunshine lights up a granite rock, "I really see no reason why weshould not come to terms. I do not know what we ought to offer you, MissWard, but my sister thought fifty pounds a year."
Waveney gave a little start of surprise. The terms seemed magnificent.
"Oh," she said, impulsively, "I shall be able to help father. Whathappiness that will be!" And then her face fell a little. "Will you tellme, please, is it very far to Erpingham?"
"Do you mean from here?"
"No, not exactly. I am thinking of my own home. We live in ClevelandTerrace, Chelsea." Then Miss Harford seemed somewhat taken aback.
"Is your father's name Everard Ward?" she asked, abruptly.
"Oh, yes,--have you heard of him?" returned Waveney, _naively_. "He isan artist, but his pictures do not sell, and he has only his drawinglessons. That is why I want to help him, because he works so hard andlooks so tired; and Mollie--that is my sister--is a little lame, andcannot do much."
"Is that all your family? You do not speak of your mother."
Miss Harford was looking at the girl a little strangely.
"She is dead," returned Waveney, in a low voice; "she died when Mollieand I were ten years old, but there is a young brother, Noel."
Then Miss Harford turned to her aunt.
"Aunt Sara, I really think it would be best for Althea to see Miss Wardherself. You know I have to drive over to Erpingham now. It is quiteearly in the afternoon," she continued, looking at Waveney. "Can you notcome with me? We shall be at the Red House in three-quarters of an hour.I could drop you at Sloane Square station by seven. It will be apleasant drive, and the evenings are still light until eight."
Waveney hesitated. What would Mollie say to her long absence? But then,her father never returned home before eight on his Norwood days. Thedrive tempted her, and then, the idea of seeing Erpingham.
"If you are sure that I shall be back by seven," she said; and then MissHarford rang the bell and ordered the carriage.
"Althea will give us tea. Come, Miss Ward." And then Mrs. Mainwaringheld out her soft, little hand to the girl.
"Good-bye, my dear. You will be as happy as a bird at the Red House.Give my love to Althea, Doreen, and tell her to rest her poor eyes."
Waveney thought of Cinderella and the pumpkin coach as she stepped intothe luxurious carriage. The novelty of the position, the enjoyment ofthe swift, smooth motion, and the amusement of looking out at thecrowded street, completely absorbed her, and for some time Miss Harfordmade no attempt to draw her into conversation.
But presently she began to talk, and then Waveney found herselfanswering all sorts of questions about herself and Mollie--how theyamused themselves, and why her father's pictures did not sell; and thenWaveney, who was very girlish and frank, told her all theirdisappointment about "King Canute," and Miss Harford listened with suchkindly interest that Waveney felt quite grateful to her.
"Father was so low and cast down about it last night, he said he shouldnever have the heart to paint a picture again, because the dealers wereso hard on him; and I am afraid he meant it, too. Oh, what a nice greychurch! And actually, we are coming to a river. Oh, how picturesquethose reddish-brown sails look in the sunshine!"
"This is Dereham," returned her companion. "It is not such a very longdrive, is it? In little more than ten minutes we shall have reached ourdestination;" and then she began pointing out various objects ofinterest--another church, the shops in High Street where they dealt,then a high, narrow house, very dull and gloomy-looking.
"Some dear old friends of ours live in that house," she said. "It is notvery inviting-looking, is it? Once they lived in such a beautiful place,until old Mr. Chaytor lost his money. I am always so sorry for them. Ithink troubles of this kind fall very heavily on some natures."
Waveney assented to this, but the subject did not much interest her.They had left Dereham behind now, and before them lay a wide, greencommon, with pleasant roads intersecting it. A little clear pool by theroadside rippled in the sunlight. Near it was a broad, grassy spaceshaded by trees. Two or three nurses sat on benches, and some childrenwere dancing hand in hand, advancing and retreating, and singing inshrill little voices. "Here we go gathering nuts in May," they werechanting, and then one child fell down and began to cry. Across thecommon there were soft blue distances and a crisp wind, laden with theperfumes of firs and blackberries, fanned their faces.
Then they drove through some white gates. A lodge and a long, shady lanewere before them, with long, parklike meadows on one side. It was all sosweet, so still, and peaceful, in the evening light, that Waveney washalf sorry to find that their journey was at an end; for the next momentthe carriage stopped, and the lodge-keeper opened some more gates,curtsying with a look of pleasure when she saw Miss Harford.
"I have not come home to stay, Mrs. Monkton," observed Miss Harford,with a friendly nod, and then the horses began frisking down a windingcarriage drive. The shrubbery was thick, but every now and then Waveneyhad glimpses of little shut-in lawns, one with a glorious cedar in themiddle, and another with a sundial and peacock. An old red brickElizabethan house was at the end of the drive, with a long sunny terraceround it.
At the sound of the wheels two little Yorkshire terriers flew out togreet their mistress with shrill barks of joy.
"Oh, what pretty little fellows!" exclaimed Waveney.
"Yes, they are great pets. Fuss and Fury, that is what we call them,"returned Miss Harford, smiling, "and I think you will allow that thenames suit them."
Mollie's Prince: A Novel Page 6
