Vittoria Cottage (Drumberley Book 1)

by D. E. Stevenson

  “And we know each other so well,” Leda put in. “It isn’t like getting engaged to a stranger.”

  “When Dad sees we’re absolutely determined …” continued Derek. “And of course I can tell him you’re pleased about it, can’t I, Mrs. Dering?”

  “No,” said Caroline. “I can’t give my consent until I’ve discussed it with your father —”

  They paid no heed to this pronouncement (perhaps they did not hear it) but continued to exclaim with rapture that it was wonderful, that it was the most marvellous thing that had ever happened, that they would be married quite soon …

  “Derek, listen,” said Caroline firmly. “We must wait until we see what Sir Michael thinks. You can’t be engaged without his consent.”

  “But we are engaged,” declared Derek. “I’ll tell Dad to-night. It will be all right — honestly, Mrs. Dering — he’s very fond of Leda.”

  “You’ll stay to tea, Derek,” Leda said, smiling at him. “Stay to supper, too. We’ve got plenty of food, haven’t we, Mummy?”

  “He can stay to tea but not supper,” replied Caroline. “He must go home after tea and ask Sir Michael …”

  “But, Mummy —”

  “But, Mrs. Dering — honestly.”

  “And then I must see Sir Michael myself and talk it over,” added Caroline.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DEREK STAYED to tea and lingered on afterwards. It was only when the Derings’ supper was actually on the table that he made a move to go. Leda accompanied him to the gate and returned with her hair in some disorder. Her mother and sister were finishing their meal.

  “I suppose Derek has been kissing you,” said Bobbie, looking at her critically.

  Leda did not deny it.

  The day had been so exhausting that the girls went off to bed early, and Caroline was not long after them; she had just finished her bath and was putting on her dressing-gown when the front-door bell rang. At first she decided not to answer it, for there had been several burglaries in the district and she was frightened — it was nearly eleven o’clock! But on looking out of her bedroom window she saw a car standing at the gate. There it stood in the bright moonlight with its sidelights shining dimly — the grey Rolls, rather aged, but still handsome and distinguished, which she knew belonged to Sir Michael Ware. It was rather a problem. If her bedroom light had not been lighted she might have pretended to be asleep, but …

  The bell rang again. There was nothing for it but to go down, just as she was, and speak to him.

  Sir Michael looked enormous, standing on the doorstep. He was a big man, of course, and to-night he looked larger than usual — perhaps because he was angry — Caroline felt very small and defenceless.

  “I hear you’re in favour of this ridiculous business,” Sir Michael exclaimed.

  “Come in, Sir Michael,” said Caroline.

  He came in without further ado and followed her into the drawing-room. She wondered if he noticed she was in her dressing-gown. Perhaps not, for it was a black silk kimono embroidered with white chrysanthemums (James had sent it to her from Malaya) and, when you came to think of it, the garment was not very different from informal evening dress. It felt different, of course, because all she had on beneath it was her nightdress and this made her feel at a disadvantage — and cold. Caroline sat down on the fender-stool and tried to revive the dying fire.

  “Don’t do that for me. I’m not cold,” said Sir Michael. “I shan’t keep you long. All I’ve come for is to tell you I don’t approve. To begin with, I’m not made of money, as Derek seems to imagine, and to go on with they’re both too young. They’re irresponsible. Don’t know their own minds. If you think —”

  “I’m not in favour of it either,” Caroline told him.

  “You’re not in favour of it!”

  “No, I agree with you.”

  “But I thought you were all for it. Derek said so.”

  “They wouldn’t listen. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed that young people don’t seem to listen to what one says.”

  “Of course I’ve noticed,” said Sir Michael crossly.

  Caroline was beginning to feel better now. The fire was burning up nicely and Sir Michael was not really very alarming in spite of his immense size. As she watched him pace across her drawing-room and turn and pace back (as if he were walking upon his quarter-deck, or whatever it was admirals walked upon), she began to feel quite sorry for him. Even admirals, were not listened to by their offspring, and it must be worse for them than for ordinary people because they were used to laying down the law.

  “Neither Derek nor Rhoda listens to what I say,” he added.

  “Mine don’t listen to me, either. They’re fond of men, but they think I’m rather silly. Sometimes I have a sort of feeling they may be right.”

  He stopped and looked at her. “Nonsense!” he exclaimed.

  She smiled at him rather helplessly.

  “It’s all wrong,” he declared. “If you aren’t sure of yourself you can’t expect them to listen.”

  Caroline almost asked him if he were sure of himself and if so why Derek and Rhoda did not listen to him, but being a wise woman she just shook her head sadly.

  “I damn’ well had to listen to my parents!” Sir Michael exclaimed.

  By this time Caroline was feeling grand. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I can’t help wondering whether they will make their children listen to them. It will be interesting to see, won’t it?”

  Sir Michael failed to appreciate this problem of psychology. “They’re irresponsible,” he declared. “At least Derek is. What does he think he’s going to live on? How does he think he’s going to support a wife?”

  “Nobody seems to have any money nowadays,” said Caroline thoughtfully. “Somehow or other, people seem to be able to struggle along without it — I don’t know how.”

  “Derek couldn’t,” Sir Michael said.

  There was a little silence.

  “I mean,” he continued, starting to walk up and down again, “I mean Derek is — not exactly extravagant but — but unused to economy. He doesn’t know what it means. He likes the best of everything; the best wine, the best clothes — his tailor is the best in Oxford — and he’s generous and open-handed. That’s all right if you’ve got the wherewithal, of course. It’s taking me all my time to see him through the Varsity.”

  “Leda will have very little —” began Caroline.

  “Leda is a nice girl,” declared Sir Michael. “She’s pretty and attractive. I’ve nothing against her. Dash it all, I like Leda! But Derek will have to make his own way in the world. It’s no use his thinking of marriage in the meantime.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Caroline said.

  “It’s common sense. They wouldn’t be happy if they had to pig it. I know Derek. He thinks I don’t know the first thing about him but I know him through and through —”

  Caroline nodded. “Leda is much the same. She likes nice clothes, she likes going about and having fun.”

  “That’s settled then,” he said.

  “You mean you’ll put your foot down?”

  “I mean they can’t be married until Derek graduates.” Caroline was surprised. She had never thought they could be.

  “Oh yes,” said Sir Michael, nodding. “That was Derek’s idea — to be married at once and look for rooms in Oxford. I told him it was crazy. I told him he must work like hell and get his degree, and then we would see about it.”

  “Of course,” agreed Caroline. She hesitated and then asked, “Do you mean you’re willing for them to be engaged, Sir Michael?”

  He stood still and considered the matter. “That’s for you to say,” he replied. “To tell you the truth, I’m not in favour of it — long engagements are the devil — but would they listen to us if we said no?”

  Caroline saw the point.

  “I’m not in favour of it,” repeated Sir Michael thoughtfully. “Knowing Derek … he gets tired of things
… but it’s for you to say. You’re the girl’s mother.”

  “What can I say?” asked Caroline.

  “What do you want to say?”

  Caroline hesitated. She wanted Leda to have what she wanted, and Leda wanted Derek. She wanted Leda to be happy, but Sir Michael’s warning had not fallen upon deaf ears. Sir Michael might be like a bull, but he was not without intuition and intelligence. “I don’t know what I want to say,” said Caroline at last. “But that isn’t the point, is it? If you’re willing for them to be engaged I shall have to agree.” They discussed the matter further. Sir Michael ceased to pace the room, he sat down quite peacefully and smoked a cigarette. It was long after midnight when at last he rose and said he must go … even then he said it reluctantly.

  “Yes,” agreed Caroline. “It’s terribly late. Come back some other time,” and she saw him out of the front door and chained it behind him.

  Leda was waiting for her on the landing. “What did he say?” cried Leda. “What on earth were you talking about all that time? Goodness, you’re in your dressing-gown!”

  “I don’t think he noticed,” said Caroline rather wearily. “He isn’t a very noticing kind of man … and I could hardly keep him waiting on the doorstep while I dressed.”

  “He must have thought it most extraordinary,” said Leda. “Anybody could see it was your dressing-gown. What did he say?”

  “He says Derek must graduate before he thinks of getting married.”

  “But, Mummy —”

  “And he’s right,” said Caroline firmly.

  “Derek won’t wait,” declared Leda. “Besides, he could work much better if he didn’t have to keep on coming over to Ashbridge to see me.”

  “Derek will have to work hard and come over to Ashbridge less often.”

  “D’you mean you aren’t on our side?” cried her daughter in amazement.

  “I mean Derek must do as his father says. He’s dependent upon his father; he hasn’t a penny except what Sir Michael gives him.”

  “But, Mummy, it wouldn’t cost any more if —”

  “That isn’t the point,” said Caroline, who was tired and therefore less patient than usual. “The point is Sir Michael is paying the piper and can call the tune. He says you can be engaged if you like. To my mind that’s all you can expect.”

  “Oh, Mummy, you don’t understand!”

  “I understand that you’re both very impatient,” said Caroline, smiling to take the edge off the words, “but surely if you love each other you can wait. You want to do what’s best for Derek, don’t you?”

  For once Leda seemed to be listening. She said, “Of course I want to do what’s best for Derek.”

  “People can’t live on air,” continued Caroline, pressing home her advantage. “It would be madness to quarrel with Sir Michael.”

  “Of course, but —”

  “Do be sensible,” urged Caroline, taking up her hair-brush and beginning to brush her hair. “Make up your mind to wait. Sir Michael is very kind, he says he likes you, but Derek must be in a position to support a wife (or at least to make something towards the support of a wife) before he marries. That seems very fair to me.”

  It did not seem fair to Leda, she flung herself face-downward on the bed. “I shall die!” she exclaimed in a muffled voice. “If I can’t marry Derek I shall die — you’ll be sorry then — other girls get engaged and every one congratulates them but of course it’s different with me. I don’t know why I should be so unlucky, why everything should go against me — always. It isn’t fair.”

  Caroline stood and looked at her. It was no good offering sympathy or trying to reason with Leda; she knew that only too well. Leda was like Arnold, who had asked and asked for sympathy but had never accepted it. What could you do with people like that?

  There was so much in heredity, thought Caroline. Leda was like Arnold, like him in appearance and in nature. In Bobbie she saw her own grandmother, who had come from Ireland and was impulsive and generous and full of fun. In neither of her daughters could she see the least resemblance to herself, but her son was herself — her better self, thought Caroline. It was worth while to have lived if only to have produced James. Quite willingly she would have lain down in the road and allowed a steam-roller to pass over her recumbent form if that would have done James any good … not so much because she adored him but because she felt that he was a more valuable person than herself, more valuable to the world.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MRS. SEVERN had invited Caroline to tea on Wednesday “to meet Mr. Shepperton.” Caroline had met him already, of course, but she had no objection to meeting him again, so she put on her best hat and presented herself at the vicarage at the appointed hour. She found Mr. Shepperton had arrived before her; he was sitting in a shabby but comfortable arm-chair discussing world affairs with his host. Caroline sat down beside her hostess on the sofa and talked to her. Mrs. Severn was fat and cheerful and slightly lazy. She was not the bustling efficient type of vicar’s wife, but in spite of this — or perhaps because of it — the village liked her immensely and so did Caroline.

  “Is it true?” inquired Mrs. Severn in low tones. “I heard a rumour about Leda and Derek, and I could hardly wait until you came.”

  “Ashbridge is a dreadful place,” said Caroline, smiling.

  “It is true!”

  “Yes, they’re engaged.”

  “My dear, how thrilling! It’s so much more interesting when you know them both. Anne will be excited.”

  “But of course they aren’t going to be married for some time. The Admiral says Derek must graduate first and I think he’s right.”

  “Of course,” nodded Mrs. Severn. “They’re both very young and it will do them no harm to wait. Things are so much more valuable if you have to wait for them. Jack and I waited nearly four years because he had no living and you can’t keep a wife on a curate’s stipend. We waited and saved,” said Mrs. Severn with a sigh. “I did some dressmaking. (It was the only way I could make a little money.) It seemed a very long four years, but afterwards we were glad we had waited because we appreciated our happiness so much more.”

  Caroline was silent. Her own experience had been so different from Mrs. Severn’s that she could find nothing to say.

  “Anne ought to be back,” said Mrs. Severn, glancing at the clock.

  “Anne is late!” exclaimed Mr. Severn, taking a large gold watch out of his pocket and consulting it gravely.

  “Perhaps the bus was late,” suggested Caroline.

  “Anne is our daughter,” said Mr. Severn to his other guest. “She has a post at Miss Penworthy’s school in Wandlebury and goes in daily. We are very fortunate to have her so near. Miss Penworthy is an admirable woman.”

  “Anne was there at school,” put in Mrs. Severn. “So of course Miss Penworthy knows her. The Wares used to go to Miss Penworthy’s and the Derings, of course … in fact, all the children from Ashbridge. Anne teaches music and dancing.”

  “I think Miss Penworthy is lucky to have her,” said Caroline. “She plays so beautifully. I’m always glad when Mr. Forbes is away and we have Anne to play the organ.”

  They were still talking about Anne when the door opened and she appeared.

  “The bus was late,” she explained. “It’s always late when I specially want to be home early.”

  There was something very attractive about Anne, she was not pretty but she was graceful and well-formed; her hair was dark and glistening — well washed and well brushed — her teeth were white and even, and her thin face was full of intelligence and humour. She had been a quiet little girl (Caroline remembered) and she was still quiet, but there was a twinkle in her dark-brown eyes which told of a capacity for fun. In spite of the fact that she was an only child and adored by her parents, Anne was quite unspoiled — perhaps she was unspoilable.

  “There’s some very interesting news,” Mrs. Severn told her. “Leda and Derek are engaged.”

  “How lovely!�
�� cried Anne. “Of course, I’m not exactly surprised —”

  “Leda and Derek!” exclaimed Mr. Severn in amazement. “Why am I never informed of these interesting matters? Leda and Derek!”

  Mrs. Severn smiled at him fondly. “Jack never sees anything,” she said.

  “I see as much as other people.”

  “No, dear, you don’t. You know you’re always surprised when babies appear at the font to be christened. For instance, when the sexton’s wife —”

  “Kate!” cried Mr. Severn in mock alarm. “Kate, I will not allow you to tell our guests that story!”

  Mrs. Severn chuckled. “I think Mr. Shepperton would enjoy it,” she declared. “The sexton and his wife live in a cottage just beside the church and Jack sees them every day — sometimes several times a day. One Sunday afternoon they appeared in church with two babies to be christened. Jack admired the babies very nicely. ‘Dear little mites,’ he said. ‘They look like twins.’ ‘They are twins,’ said Mrs. Spawl in bewilderment. ‘Who do they belong to?’ asked Jack with interest. Mr. and Mrs. Spawl were quite hurt.”

  “Kate,” said Mr. Severn when the laughter had subsided. “Kate, I may be somewhat unobservant, but I cannot sit here and allow myself to be accused of faulty grammar. I feel sure I must have said, ‘To whom do they belong?’”

  “Of course you did, darling,” Anne assured him.

  “Talking of babies,” said Mrs. Severn. “How are the Widgeons getting on? I ought to go and see Sue, but I never seem to have time.”

  “Widgeon!” exclaimed Mr. Severn. “He’s the young fellow who lives in that very isolated cottage near the Roman Well. Spawl says he used to talk Socialism at the Cock and Bull, and he used to drink too much, I’m afraid, but perhaps he will turn over a new leaf now that he has a pretty little wife. I married them just the other day.”