‘Of course!’ she cried. ‘How lovely! The only thing is…’
The only thing was Eleanor had no cup to offer her guest, and she was reluctant to ask for a cup to be brought from the pantry.
‘It’s so far, you see,’ she explained. ‘I mean they don’t like coming up all those stairs, it makes them very cross when I ask for things. I’ve used my cup or I’d give you that, but if you don’t mind a mug…’
James did not mind in the least.
A mug was unearthed, an enamel mug commemorating the coronation of King George the Fifth and Queen Mary.
It had languished in the nursery cupboard for years and was full of dust and cobwebs, but Eleanor washed it thoroughly in the nursery bathroom. By this time the slight embarrassment had completely vanished and they sat down together upon the sofa to have tea.
‘I’ve never had anyone to tea before,’ said Eleanor. ‘Not a guest of my very own, like this. It’s lovely. I suppose Mother and Holly are out. I hope you aren’t awfully disappointed.’
James assured her that he was not, and it was true. He felt happy and comfortable with his young hostess.
‘Holly won a lot of money at that party,’ said Eleanor. ‘She won thirteen pounds, and she’s awfully pleased about it. I wish I could have been there – it was a very good party, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said James in doubtful tones.
‘Didn’t you enjoy it?’
‘Not very much. I don’t like parties, I’m afraid. As a matter of fact I would rather have tea in the nursery with Miss Shaw.’
She smiled at him. ‘It’s nice of you, but I don’t believe it.’
‘Cross my heart,’ declared James.
Eleanor offered him more tea and pressed him to eat the only piece of cake, and after some argument they divided it in half and ate it bite for bite with a good deal of laughter over their foolishness.
‘James,’ said Eleanor, with sudden gravity, ‘I wanted to ask you something, and please will you tell me honestly. Did you get into trouble about me? I mean that night when I got lost. I got home in plenty of time for breakfast and nobody said a word, so I thought it was all right. Then when Mrs. Johnstone came over to see Mother I was rather afraid – afraid that somebody,’
‘It was perfectly all right,’ declared James.
‘Good,’ said Eleanor, with a sigh of relief. ‘I’ve been wondering, you see.’
James saw. He felt an absolute brute. He had been inconsiderate and unkind. He had been so absorbed in his own affairs that he had never realised Eleanor might be worrying.
‘You mustn’t worry about me,’ he told her.
‘No, it was just that I didn’t want you to get into trouble.’ She paused, and then added, ‘I’m going to school.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Are you pleased, James? You said I ought to go to school, didn’t you? Holly says I shall like it.’
‘Of course you will.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Eleanor doubtfully. ‘Holly gave me a book called Veronica's First Term and I’ve been reading it this afternoon. Veronica wasn’t happy at school. One of the girls stole a pair of gloves from another girl, and one of the mistresses found them in Veronica’s drawer, right at the back and all covered up with her linen, so of course everybody thought’
‘That’s nonsense!’ declared James stoutly. ‘School isn’t like that at all. My sisters both went to school and they had a jolly good time.’
‘Holly says her schooldays were the happiest days of her life,’ admitted Eleanor with reluctance.
James had heard this curious statement before. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, I enjoyed the holidays best. It was so lovely coming home and everybody being pleased and making a fuss about you.’
This was a new point of view to Eleanor; she tried to imagine her family being pleased to see her and making a fuss about her, but failed. It was impossible to imagine such an eventuality.
‘School is the best thing, honestly,’ said James, who had begun to wonder whether it really was.
‘Tell me about school,’ said Eleanor, leaning against him confidingly.
James complied with her request. His two sisters had been at school, as he had said, so he thought himself quite an expert upon the subject, but the school described by James bore little resemblance to a modern establishment for the education of budding gentlewomen; it was a sort of cross between his own preparatory school and a convent, with a dash of Young Ladies Seminary (as depicted by nineteenth-century novelists) thrown in for good measure.
Eleanor listened with interest. She believed James, of course, but it sounded different from what Holly had told her.
‘You’ll have lots of friends,’ said James.
‘Yes,’ agreed Eleanor more cheerfully. ‘It will be nice to have lots of friends, and if I have a very special friend I shall tell her about you.’
‘No! Goodness, no!’ exclaimed James in horrified tones. ‘Girls never talk about men. It isn’t the right thing. It isn’t done. Girls talk about – about hockey and – and things like that.’
‘I don’t think you’re right,’ said Eleanor, but she said it doubtfully, for it seemed impossible that James should be wrong. ‘At Holly’s school they talked a lot about their boy-friends. Holly had one, of course.’
‘Oh!’ said James, somewhat taken aback.
‘Holly has always had lots of friends. She’s so pretty, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, she is.’
‘She still has lots of friends, but she likes Peter best. Sometimes she comes up to the nursery and talks to me about him and she showed me his photograph. They love each other very much but they can’t be married because he’s terribly poor. He hasn’t a bean,’ said Eleanor sadly.
‘Oh!’ said James again. He realised that the slang expression was a quotation for Eleanor, who fed upon classical authors, never used slang.
‘She’ll have to marry somebody else,’ said Eleanor. ‘It’s just like a story, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said James. He felt annoyed with Holly, which was odd, for James had no right to feel annoyed.
‘It’s like the girl in “Auld Robin Gray”. I expect you know the song, don’t you? She thought her sweetheart had been drowned at sea and all sorts of dreadful things happened and she had no money to buy food for her father and mother, so she married Robin Gray. Then Willy came back, but it was too late! Poor girl,’ said Eleanor sorrowfully. ‘Poor Jeanie, she cried and cried.’
James thought it was hard luck on Robin Gray, and said so.
‘You aren’t meant to think of his side of it,’ Eleanor pointed out.
‘But I do! I think Robin had a raw deal. He did what he could for the wretched girl and all he got was a bag of misery.’
Eleanor was surprised at James’s vehemence, but she was tired of the subject, so she returned to a subject nearer her heart. ‘When Holly was at school she was actually engaged – only secretly, of course. The girls knew about it, but not the mistresses. She had a ring and wore it on a ribbon round her neck.’
‘Oh!’ said James.
‘James,’ said Eleanor. ‘I don’t suppose – I mean you don’t think you could – could give me a ring, do you? Just a curtain ring would do.’
‘No,’ said James firmly. He hesitated, and then said ‘No’ again more firmly than before. The truth was he was suddenly beset with the most frightful temptation to accept this adoration which was being offered to him so sweetly and let it comfort his heart. He was so unfortunate in his love affairs! Rhoda was out of reach and Holly did not love him. If he married Holly it would be second best for both of them. Here was first and best. Here was somebody who would lay down her life for him and ask no greater boon. You could wait three years, said the tempter in James’s ear. There must be no engagement, of course (that would be wrong), you need only say three words: ‘Perhaps, some day.’ That would be enough. You’re lonely, and so is she, said the tempter. Why not
let her go to school while you go to school yourself? Then, when you’ve learnt how to farm and she’s learnt the ways of the world, you could marry her. You could take her home and love her and look after her. You could make certain that she’s never lonely and frightened and unhappy again… and you would have Love beside you, real Love, not some other man’s leavings. It would be easy, said the tempter persuasively. (The Shaw’s wouldn’t mind, they don’t care about Eleanor and your prospects are rosy). Just one word will do, just say, ‘Perhaps’. What’s wrong with that?
But it was wrong. It would be positively wicked to bind this fairy creature, this Lady of Shalott, who had no idea of the world and had never seen a man except himself.
The grey eyes were gazing at James; they were very clear-sighted grey eyes. ‘We could wait, couldn’t we?’ said Eleanor softly. ‘We could wait and see. Perhaps when I’m grown up you will love me properly. Let’s wait, James. I don’t really want a ring, it would be silly, and I promise not to tell anybody at all. We could wait and see. Meantime I shall learn all sorts of useful things. I shall learn how to cook, so that if we –’
‘No, darling,’ said James. ‘No, honestly. It wouldn’t be right. You’re my little sister and I shall always think of you like that. Someday you’ll marry somebody else – somebody nearer your own age – and I shall come to the wedding see? And meantime, if there’s anything you want, or if some snooping mistress finds a pair of stolen gloves in your drawer, you must let me know and I’ll straighten out everything for you.’
‘I can write to you?’
‘No,’ said James. ‘No, you mustn’t write. You won’t be allowed to write to me from school. If anything goes wrong you must write to Mamie, to Mrs. Johnstone, and she’ll tell me.’
He put his arm round Eleanor and smiled down at her. Eleanor smiled back, but rather sadly.
‘You’ll understand some day,’ said James. ‘Some day, when you’re older.’
Eleanor sighed. It was dreadful to be young.
Tea was finished and James had just risen to go when the door opened and Holly appeared.
‘James!’ she exclaimed breathlessly. ‘They told me you were here. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?’
‘I never thought,’ began James, who was somewhat embarrassed at Holly’s unexpected appearance and at her effusive greeting.
‘You never thought?’
‘I mean, I thought you would be here.’
‘Here, waiting for you I suppose!’ laughed Holly. ‘Really, James! Weeks pass and you never come near me and then you pop over and expect to find me waiting for you!’
‘No, of course not. I mean, I happened to have a free afternoon so I just took a chance.’
‘Well, never mind. I’m here now. What did you think of the Heddles’ party? I told you it would be a slap-up show, didn’t I?’
‘You did – and it was,’ agreed James. ‘Much too slap-up for a country bumpkin like me.’
‘Nonsense!’ cried Holly. ‘It was fun. I won oodles of money and enjoyed every moment of it. That dear little ball did exactly what I wanted every time. I only wish we had been playing for pounds as Mr. Heddle suggested. Come on, James,’ she added, taking his arm. ‘Come down to the drawing-room and have a glass of sherry and a nice chat.’
They went out on to the landing and Eleanor followed.
‘I’m afraid I can’t stay,’ said James.
‘You can’t stay?’
‘I’m afraid not, Holly. I’ve got to be back at six because the vet is coming to see a sick cow, and I want to hear what he says about it.’
‘Nonsense! Of course you must stay. I want to talk to you.’ She smiled at him as she spoke in a very friendly way and for a moment James was tempted to abandon the sick cow and do as she suggested… but the temptation was only momentary.
‘No, honestly,’ said James. ‘You see, I want to learn all I can and this is such a good opportunity. I’ll come another day instead.’
Holly’s face changed. She was really angry. Perhaps she had a right to be angry, thought James. He felt guilty and miserable about Holly, for, although he had never been more than friendly with her in word or deed, he had shilly-shallied about her in his own mind. At the dance in the barn, for instance, he had been on the point of asking her to marry him and, of course, Holly had known – Holly was no fool – and that day by the river she had given him every encouragement, but again he had failed to seize his opportunity.
‘I’ll come another day,’ repeated James uncomfortably.
‘Perhaps I shan’t be here another day,’ said Holly, with a brittle laugh. There were two spots of bright colour in her cheeks and her eyes were sparkling.
All this time Eleanor had said nothing. She had listened intently to every word and, although she did not understand the hidden undercurrent of the conversation, she felt the tension and resented it.
‘Oh, Holly!’ cried Eleanor. ‘You mustn’t be cross with James, it isn’t fair f He’s been working terribly hard.’
‘I really have been busy,’ said James. ‘We’ve been draining a meadow and I find I get awfully sleepy after working in the open air. The days pass and,’ he paused. It was all perfectly true, but somehow or other it sounded like an excuse and a feeble one at that.
‘Goodness!’ cried Holly. ‘What a fuss about nothing! Don’t bother to explain. I couldn’t care less whether you come or not.’
By this time all three of them were walking down the stairs so it was easier for James to pretend that Holly was joking.
‘Well, I care,’ said James, laughing. ‘I like seeing you. I shall ring up next time I get a free afternoon and if you aren’t here, waiting for me, there’ll be trouble.’
‘Cave-man stuff!’ exclaimed Holly in mock alarm, but James could tell from her tone that he was forgiven.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jock suddenly made up his mind to go to Edinburgh for the weekend. It was not often that he left Mureth, and he always left it regretfully and returned to it with joy, for he never felt himself unless his foot was upon his own soil and he hated the noise and bustle of town and the discomfort of town clothes. But there was business to be done in Edinburgh; Jock wanted to speak to his family solicitor about altering his will in James’s favour, and to find out the correct procedure to enable James to assume the name of Johnstone in addition to his own. James had decided to take the name at once: there seemed no sense in waiting. James Dering Johnstone sounded well, thought its prospective owner, and his aunt and uncle thought it sounded very well indeed, but none of them had the faintest idea how the change was to be effected.
‘Mr. MacGregor will know,’ said Jock, who had absolute confidence in the sagacity of his man-of-law. ‘I’ll just put the whole thing before him. And James had better come with me; it’ll be as well for Mr. MacGregor to see James, and there’s sure to be papers to sign. You’ll come too, Mamie. You’ll enjoy it. We’ll stay at yon quiet hotel near the Braids and get our sleep.’
Mamie refused the offer. She would not have let Jock go alone, but he would have his nephew as a companion, so there was no need for her to go as well. Both Jock and James did all they could to persuade her to accompany them; they tried to lure her with the promise of a theatre on Friday night; she could go to a concert on Saturday afternoon; she could look at the shops. What woman could resist such a programme? Mamie resisted it. She did not want to go.
‘What will you do, all by yourself?’ asked Jock in amazement.
‘I’ll have a nice, quiet time,’ said Mamie, smiling. ‘Lizzie and I will do some cleaning, and we’ll get Mrs. Couper in to help. We’ll have a good opportunity to get down to it properly with no meals to prepare.’
‘No meals!’ exclaimed Jock. ‘You’ll surely need meals!’
‘Just eggs or something. An omelette and a cup of coffee doesn’t take long to prepare.’
Jock and James went off on Friday morning; they would return on Tuesday afternoon. It was a long weeken
d, much too long to suit Jock, but Mr. MacGregor wanted to see them on Friday and again on Tuesday when the papers would be ready to sign, so there was no help for it; the ordeal must be endured. Willy Dunne drove them over to Drumburly and saw them into the train; he received explicit orders to meet the afternoon train on Tuesday, and assured Mr. Johnstone that he would be there.
The house felt very quiet after their departure, which was curious, really, for Jock and James were always out in the daytime, so the house was no more quiet than on any other day. But the fact remained that it felt extremely quiet and although Mamie had been looking forward to a nice, quiet time she did not like it much. Even when Mrs. Couper arrived the house felt quiet… but perhaps quiet was not the right word, thought Mamie, as she and Lizzie and Mrs. Couper got down to the job of cleaning and polishing. Not quiet, thought Mamie, as the sound of chatter and clatter assailed her ears, not empty either; there must be some other word to describe the horrid vacuum which the departure of her men-folk had created in Mureth House.
Lizzie was a silent sort of person, but Mrs. Couper liked to chatter as she worked and today she was labouring under a sense of grievance and was anxious for Lizzie’s sympathy. Mamie did not want to hear the conversation, but she could not help overhearing bits of it. Mrs. Dunne’s name cropped up frequently.
‘That Mrs, Dunne!’ exclaimed Mrs. Couper in tones of scornful derision. Apparently James had been giving old Mr. Couper an occasional rabbit, because old Mr. Cooper’s teeth were in such a parlous condition that he could not eat meat, and Mrs. Dunne, becoming aware of the gifts, was consumed with jealousy.
It was just the sort of thing that started feuds in the cottages, thought Mamie rather miserably. James was not to blame. It was nice of James. He could not be expected to know that his kind action to old Mr. Couper would create a storm. The storm was blowing up and very soon Mrs. Dunne would pursue Mamie and say in honeyed accents, ‘Mistress Johnstone, could I speak to you for a moment?’ And Mamie would have to listen whether she liked it or not.
Music in the Hills (Drumberley Book 2) Page 20
