Philip himself felt a good deal of trepidation at the thought of the meeting. He felt very sorry for Mary, yet it was certain that the poor darling had made things much worse by her reckless lie. He put a hand over both hers that were tightly clasped in her lap and squeezed them.
“You’ll feel the better for it afterward,” he said.
“I hope so, for I could scarcely feel worse than I do at this moment.”
She wished the driveway had been ten times as long. She scarcely had time to collect herself when the trap stopped in front of the door, and Philip sprang out and turned to lift her down.
“I can’t!” she cried, in sudden panic.
“You can’t?”
“No.”
“Then when will you?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Very well,” he prepared to mount again into his seat. Disappointment clouded his face. “But I thought you had better pluck.”
“I will. I will!” She could not bear him to be disappointed in her. Then again that moment when she had faced Adeline in triumph, had got the best of her, flashed into her mind, hardening it to the ordeal. She almost flung herself into Philip’s arms, for fear her resolution would again fail her. He set her on her feet.
“Straighten your hat,” he said, with an appraising look. “It has too wide a brim for that wind.”
She straightened it, took herself firmly in hand and went up the steps and through the door.
Inside he kissed her. “Your house, Mary,” he said. “Welcome to it, my darling.”
She would have liked to cling to him, to obliterate herself in him, but he led her into the drawing-room and left her. She listened to his steps as he went down the hall in search of his mother. She heard Adeline Whiteoak’s voice.
She heard her steps coming from the direction of her bedroom. Philip remained behind. Was he afraid of a scene, Mary wondered, or did he think it best for them to be alone together at the meeting. She did not know. She did not care. Just to have this terrible meeting over with was all that mattered.
But how could she speak to Adeline? Her mouth was dry as a bone. She stood straight, half-defiant, half-tremulous, facing the door.
Now Adeline stood there facing her. She looked a stately figure, almost as though she had dressed for the meeting, in a royal purple tea-gown of heavy silk, with a short train, and lace on the sleeves and at the throat. All day she had moved, eaten, and spoken, like a semi-invalid. But now her natural vitality took possession of her. Three swift steps brought her to Mary. As she came she opened her arms wide and Mary found herself enfolded against her strong breast, held there, inhaling the Eastern scent that always came from Adeline because of the boxes of sandalwood in which she kept her finery.
“My child!” There was true warmth, as well as a melodramatic vibration in Adeline’s voice. “My child — all is forgiven!”
XXII
HE WAS A LITTLE BOY
RENNY WHITEOAK WAS up at six o’clock that morning. Though the month was October the day was warm as summer, yet with a finer, sweeter warmth. The bright blue of the sky was repeated in the little boy’s jersey. In his insides he felt clean as a whistle. He was slim and agile as a minnow.
On his way out to the stables he shouted, sang, and laughed without in the least knowing why. Hodge was just unlocking the heavy padlock on the main door when he arrived.
“Hullo, Hodge,” he yelled, as though Hodge were stone deaf. “I’ve come to help you with your work.”
“Fine,” said Hodge, throwing open the door with a grand gesture. “I’m in need of a helper. What wages do you ask?”
“A dollar a month.”
“Whew! I can’t pay all that.”
“Twenty-five cents a month will do,” Renny said quickly.
“All right. I’ll hire you. We’ll begin by watering them.”
Hodge tramped in his heavy boots to where the buckets were kept, Renny stretching his legs to keep step with him. When Hodge picked up a bucket Renny took one also. The horses craned their necks out of their stalls to watch them. Low whinnies of approval marked their progress to the well beyond the farthest loose-box. Hodge lifted the heavy cover and the chill smell of water came from the dark below. He let down the bucket and brought it up brimming. Drops of water clung to the curly fair hairs on his arm. He filled Renny’s bucket, Renny squatting beside him, their faces darkly glimpsed in the well below.
“Don’t you ever come monkeying about here by yourself,” warned Hodge. “You might fall in.”
“Would you save me if I fell in?”
“How the dickens would I know? I’d be off working somewhere else.”
“But, if I screamed.”
“The thing is,” said Hodge, “to keep away from it. Here — don’t you try to lift that heavy bucket! You’ll ruin yourself some day, the loads you try to lift.”
Renny grasped the handles of the bucket and carried it with Hodge. He did his best to take a full share of its weight as it was lifted to old Laura’s lips. She was the largest of the loose-boxes. She was thirty years old and had been Captain Whiteoak’s favourite. As she dipped her small, intelligent head to the bucket she gave a kind glance at Renny out of her lustrous eyes.
“She likes me,” he said. “Do you think she’ll last till I’m big enough to ride her?”
“Shouldn’t wonder. She’s a great stayer. And look at her depth through the heart.” Hodge ran a hand lovingly over her shoulder. “I’ve heard my father say that your grandfather valued her more than any horse he’d ever owned, and he’d had a good many, what with England and India and Canada.”
“I value her too,” Renny said stoutly. “Value everything at Jalna.”
Joe, the older stableman, had brought oats and hay to the horses. Tom, a young boy, was cleaning the stalls, shovelling the manure into a barrow and wheeling it into the stable yard. Hodge was Renny’s favourite and he stuck by him. Together they set about grooming the horses. Renny’s hand was almost too small to grasp the curry-comb but he worked hard, hissing through his teeth as Hodge did. His own lively Welsh pony was bright as a polished nut when he had finished with her and Hodge commended him. The pony turned her head and nuzzled Renny, slobbering lovingly over his ear.
Renny asked of Hodge, ”Are you coming to the party this afternoon, Hodge?”
“Oh, I’ll be around, if I’m needed.”
Renny stood with his legs well apart, chewing a straw. “Do you know who the party’s for?” he asked.
Hodge scratched his head on which grew a thatch of towcoloured hair. “Well,” he answered evasively, “I couldn’t rightly say.”
“It’s for Miss Wakefield. She’d going to be my stepmother.”
“Oh … That’ll be fine — I guess.”
“Hodge, would you like to have a stepmother?”
“Why — I guess so.”
Renny uttered a hoot of derision. “What! And be turned into a snake or a toad by her?”
“You don’t believe them lies, do you?”
“I don’t know. Nettle said so.”
“She’s gone and a good thing too … By jingo, it’s time I went to my breakfast. And you’d better go to yours. You’ve got yourself dirty. Do you want me to help you wash at the pump?”
“Hurray! You bet I do.” He was delighted at the prospect. He hopped along beside Hodge to the pump in the stable yard. Hodge produced a cake of yellow soap.
“It’ll be cold,” he warned.
“I don’t mind.”
“Pull off your jersey then, and bend over.”
Off came the jersey and the undervest. The little white body was erect beneath the alert head.
“It’s only my face and hands that are dirty,” he said.
Hodge pumped enough water to wet the soap. He lathered Renny’s hands and neck. “You do your face. I might get soap in your eyes.”
Well soaped, Renny bent, with hands on his knees, beneath the icy stream Hodge pumped on him. His cheeks turned from red to
pink, from pink to mauve. Hodge rubbed him hard with a rough stable towel. Then Hodge stripped to his waist and Renny flung himself on the pump-handle, pumping so hard that, at each upward swing, he was lifted off his feet. He laughed with joy to see the water sluicing over Hodge’s square torso, drowning his tow head.
Now they could see the cows coming majestically from the cow stable after the milking. Tom was carrying two pails of milk toward the house. It was foaming over the top and Renny could smell its warm sweetness as it passed him.
“Have a drink?” asked Tom.
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Hodge. He took the tin mug from the pump and dipped it into the bucket. He handed it to Renny.
“You go first,” said Renny politely.
“No. You’re the boss,” grinned Hodge.
Renny put the mug to his lips and did not take it away until it was drained. He was a little out of breath with the effort but the eyes of the two young men on him demanded a show of many efficiency.
“Another?” asked Hodge.
“No, thanks.”
Hodge emptied the mug twice and Tom did the same, then plodded on toward the house. Hodge went to the cottage, one of several on the estate occupied by the hired help, where he lived with his mother.
Renny ran swiftly up the stairs to wake Meg. He wondered why she always was so sleepy in the morning. He was scarcely ever sleepy and Nettle said that was the reason he was so thin and Meg plump. Nettle had been sent away because she hadn’t been nice about Miss Wakefield. If you weren’t nice about Miss Wakefield you went. Would he have to go, he wondered, if he weren’t nice to her?
Meg was curled up in a delicious pink and white ball, with her golden-brown plait streaming across the pillow, like a handle to lift her by. He took it where the faded ribbon bow was and heaved it up and down, as he had the handle of the pump. She woke, with a start, uncurled herself and puckered her pretty face into a frown.
“Go ’way,” she said, crossly. “Leave me alone, Renny!” His cold fingers were tickling her neck.
“Wake up,” he said, putting his face close to hers.
Meg’s taste in smells was peculiar. She loved the smell of paint, of floor polish and the like. Now the smell of the carbolic soap that he had been washed with ravished her nostrils.
“Oo, what a lovely smell!” she breathed, and clasped his head close on the pillow.
He was delighted at having pleased her. He lay still a few moments, savouring the pleasure of being hugged by her, then his ravening stomach urged him to spring up. He pulled the bed-clothes off her.
“Come on,” he said. “Get up. They’ll be bringing the tent soon.”
“I don’t care,” she grumbled. “I’m not going to the party.”
He was astonished. “Why, Meggie, there’ll be ice cream and fruit punch and all sorts of things.”
“I don’t care.”
But she did care and she wanted to see the marquee put up on the lawn. She rolled on to her behind and peered about for her stockings. They were under the bed and he got them for her. She snatched them and began, still crossly, to put them on.
“I’m going,” he called back over his shoulder, and clattered down the stairs.
The door of Ernest’s bedroom opened. He appeared and caught Renny by the arm.
“You’ve been making a great noise,” he said sternly, “racketing up and down the stairs. Don’t you realize it’s still early and some of your elders want to sleep?”
“I forgot.”
“Forgetfulness of the comfort of others is an offence that cannot be allowed. You like us to think of your comfort, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Uncle Ernest.”
“Now, give me your hand and we’ll go down quietly together. Your hand is cold. What makes your hand so cold?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you been outdoors?”
“Yes. It’s warm out.”
“Good. We are to have fine weather for the garden party.”
They seated themselves at table. Eliza set dishes of oatmeal porridge in front of them. Ernest thought how chipper Eliza looked since Mrs. Nettleship’s departure. He remarked to his nephew.
“This is an important day for you, Renny.”
The little boy looked enquiringly into his face.
“There is a drop of milk on your chin. Wipe it off. Not with your hand. With your napkin. That’s better. Now, this day is important to you because today your father introduces to his friends the young lady who is to be your new mother. Everybody will have a chance to meet her and admire her. She’s very pretty, you know. You should stand near her when she is receiving the guests and be very polite. If you undertake to pass a dish you must be careful not to tilt it. If a lady and gentleman are standing side by side, be sure to offer it to the lady first.”
“Yes, Uncle Ernest. I thought it was Granny’s party.”
“She’s giving it for Miss Wakefield.”
“I thought she was giving it for herself.”
“Really, Renny, you sometimes surprise me by your stupidity. Your mind is so much on your own affairs that you don’t listen to what is going on about you.”
“I listened to the Banns being read.”
“That has nothing to do with the party … Well, yes, it had a good deal to do with the party, after all. Will you have an egg?”
“Yes, please.”
Ernest chipped the top off a boiled egg for Renny and gave him a piece of buttered toast from a generous plateful of which the slices were so well spread that the butter oozed through them and formed little golden pools on the plate.
Ernest remarked abruptly, “I don’t like your smell.”
“It’s soap,” said Renny.
“It’s nothing of the sort. It’s stable. You must not come to the table after handling horses.”
Renny hung his head, “I washed,” he murmured.
“Did you change your clothes?”
“N — no.”
“Well— hurry up with that egg. Then you may spread some marmalade on a piece of toast and leave the table. I cannot eat another bite while you are in the room.”
He wiped his lips and leaned back in his chair, his forget-me-not blue eyes fixed disapprovingly on the little boy.
Renny finished his egg in two spoonfuls, took a piece of toast and ran toward the door.
“Come back here,” said Ernest, “and push your chair in — not roughly — gently. Now what do you say?”
“Please excuse me.”
“Certainly.”
He ran through the porch to the lawn. Men were there putting up the tent that had been brought from town. It was striped red and white, with a scalloped border. There were long tables supported by trestles. The men were jolly, laughing and sometimes swearing a little as they worked. The spaniels and the fox terrier were there running in and out among the men’s legs. But, when they saw the toast in Renny’s hand, they thought of nothing but that. He put bits into one white-toothed mouth after another. Then Jake, seeing his opportunity, took the remainder and ran with it into the shrubbery.
Doctor Ramsey now drove up between the spruces and hemlocks. He alighted from his buggy and tied his horse. Renny ran to him.
“Hullo, Grandpapa,” he shouted. “We’re having a garden party.”
“So I see,” said the doctor, eyeing the gay tent without enthusiasm. “And what is the object of the party, may I ask?”
“Don’t you know?” cried Renny, astonished.
“Ay, I know, but I’m wondering if you rightly understand.”
“We’re having it to show Miss Wakefield to all our friends. She’s going to be my new mother.”
“Ay. Can you remember your mother who died?”
“Oh, yes.”
“She was my only child, you know.”
“Was she?”
“Why, surely you knew that?”
Renny felt the sad reproach in D
octor Ramsey’s eyes.
“Oh, yes, I knew,” he hastened to say. Then he added quickly:
“Will you bring Miss Wakefield some babies?”
“God knows … Do you want me to bring babies?”
“Yes. I want a little brother. I’d take care of him. I’d teach him to ride.”
“Well, well, we shall see.”
“Grandpapa, do you really bring them in your black bag?”
“Do you expect me to give away all the secrets of my profession?”
“Calves,” said Renny, “are too big to come in your bag, so the cows get them all by themselves. I saw one do it in a field.”
“I hope Meggie wasn’t there,” said the doctor sharply.
“No. I was alone.”
“Did you tell her?” Doctor Ramsey’s eyes were stern.
“No,” lied Renny.
Adeline was sweeping across the grass to them.
“What a day!” she exclaimed. “We couldn’t have chosen better. I always say this is the best time of year.”
“I’m glad you’re so pleased,” said Doctor Ramsey drily.
She took his arm and squeezed it. “Come now,” she said. “Show your mettle and make the best of this, the way I do. To tell the truth I’m getting very fond of Mary. The way she’s come out in the past ten days is amazing. She is a very complex character and it takes a character like my own to understand her. I’ve taken her right under my wing.” Adeline curved a long supple arm as in illustration.
“I’m giving her her trousseau out of my own pocket. When she was to marry Clive Busby I planned to give her a muskrat coat, suitable for the prairies, but now the coat is to be sealskin.”
“That, of course,” said the doctor, “will be more suitable for the mistress of Jalna.”
Adeline drew back. “The mistress, did you say? The mistress! Ah, Doctor Ramsey, I always shall continue to look on myself as mistress here, if I live to be a hundred — which Heaven forbid!”
Doctor Ramsey gave her an admiring look. “I know no other woman,” he said, “so well fitted to carry off that weight of years as yourself.”
“And may you be here to give me a dose of physic after the celebration,” she laughed.
03 Mary Wakefield Page 29
