Fletchers End (Bel Lamington Book 2)

by D. E. Stevenson

  They looked at each other with their hearts in their eyes.

  “I’m terribly glad,” said Bel. “I hope you’ll be very, very happy—I’m sure you will be.”

  “I’m sure we shall be,” said Louise with a sigh of bliss. “Alec and I love each other frightfully much—so of course we’ll be happy.” She hesitated and then exclaimed, “Oh Bel, I was so miserable! I was all horrid inside, that’s why I was horrid to you. Every bit of me was as horrid as could be! You understand, don’t you?”

  “Of course I understand. I knew exactly what you were feeling. It doesn’t matter a bit.”

  “I was miserable,” repeated Louise. “Utterly miserable—and then Alec came. You see he just guessed I would be feeling miserable, so he came.”

  “I didn’t say that,” objected Alec. “It was really Bel——”

  “No, you didn’t say it, but I know that’s how it was. You just suddenly felt you had to come.”

  “Of course that’s how it was,” said Bel firmly.

  “It’s all cleared up now,” Louise continued. “It was just a silly misunderstanding, that’s all. We’re both perfectly happy, aren’t we Alec? We’ll have to wait, of course. We may have to wait quite a long time, but it doesn’t matter how long we have to wait. We can write to each other and we shall see each other sometimes. When Alec comes south on business he can stay with us for a week-end. That will be something to look forward to.”

  “And you’ve got Alec’s ring.”

  “Yes, I’ve got his ring,” agreed Louise, looking at it in delight. “I shall show it to everyone and they’ll all think it’s perfectly lovely.” She looked up and smiled and added, “It’s all too marvellous for words.”

  “And it’s all due to Bel,” said Alec. “If it hadn’t been for Bel——”

  “No, Alec,” said Bel, shaking her head significantly.

  “If it hadn’t been for Bel I don’t know what would have happened,” declared Alec, and with that he put his hand on Bel’s shoulder and stooped and kissed her very gently on the forehead.

  Louise looked a little surprised. She said, “Yes, of course. Bel is a darling.”

  “She’s the best friend anybody ever had.”

  “Yes, of course,” repeated Louise. “She’s my very best friend. If she hadn’t come with me to Edinburgh it would have been frightful.”

  “It would have been absolutely frightful,” Alec agreed.

  There was a short silence.

  “I think Alec had better go home now,” said Bel.

  Alec agreed at once. “You must both be tired,” he said. “I’ll see you to-morrow—perhaps we could meet for lunch.”

  “No,” said Louise, shaking her head sadly. “We’re going south to-morrow by the ten o’clock train.”

  “Oh Louise!”

  “We must, really,” she told him. “Mrs. Morgan only came ‘to oblige’. Her daughter is going to have a baby at any moment and I promised faithfully I would be home to-morrow night. I must be there to look after Daddy and answer the telephone. It’s my job.”

  “Louise, couldn’t you——”

  “No, I couldn’t,” said Louise firmly. “I’ve told you it’s my job. You wouldn’t want me to neglect my job, would you, Alec?”

  Alec was very red in the face. “No Louise, I wouldn’t,” he replied.

  *

  3

  When Alec had gone—after a prolonged farewell—Louise sighed and said, “I’m frightfully hungry. I wonder why that girl hasn’t brought my milk.”

  Bel pointed to the empty glass.

  “You drank it!” cried Louise. “Well, I like that! You had an enormous dinner—you were away for hours—and now you’ve drunk my milk!”

  “You said the air was so bracing,” explained Bel, giggling feebly.

  “Bracing!” cried Louise, half laughing and half in earnest. “I should think it must be extremely bracing. It’s just as well we’re going home to-morrow; if you stayed here much longer you’d be as fat as a prize pig. There you sit, giggling! You don’t seem to care about me. Am I to go to bed starving?”

  Bel was laughing so much that she could not reply, but fortunately the chambermaid appeared with another glass of milk and another plate of biscuits so Louise was pacified and they went to bed.

  They went to bed, but not to sleep. Louise was too happy and excited to sleep and Bel was obliged to listen to a long recital of Alec’s charms. How good he was! How absolutely wonderful! How kind and understanding! How terribly hard he was working to put his business in order!

  Bel listened sympathetically, but her eyelids were so heavy that her eyes kept shutting, no matter how hard she tried to keep them open. Presently they closed and remained closed.

  Louise still had lots more to say—she could have gone on talking about Alec for hours—but it is impossible to go on talking to a person who is lying fast asleep with tightly closed eyes, breathing gently and rhythmically through her nose.

  “Good night, dear darling Bel,” said Louise very softly.

  There was no reply. So Louise turned out the bedside lamp and went to sleep herself.

  part five

  Miss Lestrange’s Bureau

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Brownlees arrived home on Friday evening.

  The two girls had been seen off by Alec and met at Euston by Ellis. Louise had been dropped at Coombe House in time to say good-bye to Mrs. Morgan and had been warmly welcomed by the doctor; everything had gone off according to plan.

  Bel was delighted to get home—Fletchers End was looking even more beautiful than usual—she felt as if she had been away for weeks. Ellis had exactly the same feeling.

  “You needn’t have gone, need you?” said Ellis as they sat down to a belated meal.

  “Needn’t have gone?” asked Bel in astonishment.

  “I mean you went to Edinburgh with Louise because you were afraid there might be trouble—I thought the same to tell you the truth—but it was all right, wasn’t it? Louise seems blissfully happy.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not in favour of long engagements but in this case it’s the best solution.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought.”

  “At anyrate it will keep her out of the clutches of that fellow Lestrange.”

  “Yes,” said Bel. She hesitated for a moment wondering if she should tell Ellis or not. Was it right to keep secrets from your husband?

  “It isn’t right,” said Ellis. “Wives should tell their husbands everything.”

  “Ellis, what do you mean? I never said——”

  “No, but you thought,” said Ellis chuckling. “I’ve been married to you for nearly a year, you know.”

  “Bother my face!”

  “It’s a delightful face,” declared Ellis. “It’s the most beautiful face in the whole world . . .”

  “Ellis, what nonsense!”

  “. . . but you should never play poker.”

  “Play poker!” echoed Bel in surprise. “That’s what Roy Lestrange said.”

  “Roy Lestrange!” cried Ellis in sudden rage. “What the devil has Roy Lestrange got to do with it! How dare he say a thing like that to you! I’ll twist his neck if I ever get hold of him. . . .”

  Bel was giggling. It was funny how the mere mention of that man’s name made other men so angry. Alec had been angry too.

  When Ellis had finished describing all the unpleasant things he would do to Roy Lestrange if he ever got hold of him he drew a deep breath and said, “Oh well, I suppose it is rather funny. You seem to think so, anyhow. But we’ve strayed away from the point. We were talking about your trip to Edinburgh. Have you decided whether or not to tell me why your journey was really necessary?”

  “Yes, but it’s a long story. Let’s go into the drawing-room,” said Bel.

  When they were comfortably settled on the sofa together—very close together indeed—Bel told him all that had happened, or at least most of what had happened. Natur
ally she did not tell him what Louise had said about Roy, nor about the ‘terrible state’ she had been in. (There are some things that even the most devoted wife should not reveal to her husband.)

  Ellis listened and made suitable comments and at last he said, “You’ve been very clever indeed—and very brave. I’ve missed you terribly, but I’m glad you went. I’m sure those two friends of ours will be happy together.”

  “I’m sure they will,” Bel agreed. “If they’re as happy as we are it will be all right, won’t it, Ellis?”

  “They couldn’t possibly be happier,” he replied.

  It was now Ellis’s turn to relate what had been happening at Fletchers End during Bel’s absence. The herbaceous plants had come from Underwoods and the ‘chaps’ had been busy putting them into the border. Ellis had made out an order for roses and sent it away. He had received a letter from ‘that fellow’ asking twenty-five pounds for Miss Lestrange’s bureau and had sent him a cheque by return of post.

  “Twenty-five pounds!” exclaimed Bel in horrified tones. “But it may not be worth all that! We haven’t seen it—or anything!”

  “I know, but——”

  “If he asked that amount he would have taken less. You should have bargained with him, Ellis. Why did you send him a cheque straight off without finding out its proper value? It isn’t like you a bit.”

  Ellis did not reply to this question. (There are some things that even the most devoted husband should not reveal to his wife.) As a matter of fact he would have found it difficult to explain. It certainly was not like Ellis to buy a pig in a poke but on this occasion he had done just that. He had no idea what the bureau was worth and he had not tried to bargain with ‘that fellow’. The reason for this unbusiness-like behaviour on the part of the business-like Ellis was really a vague sort of feeling that if he paid ‘that fellow’ what he wanted for the bureau—probably far too much—it would make up for the fact that Bel had paid far too little for the picture. It was illogical, of course—Ellis knew that. It was merely a sop to his troublesome conscience.

  “You should have bargained with him, Ellis,” repeated Bel.

  “The less I have to do with that fellow the better,” Ellis replied. He was rather pleased with himself at having found the right thing to say. Not only was the statement truthful but it satisfied Bel completely. The subject was closed.

  “I wonder if the manure has come,” said Bel.

  “It came yesterday morning,” replied Ellis.

  After that the conversation was concerned with horticultural matters until they went up to bed.

  *

  2

  The morning after her return from Edinburgh Bel was awakened early by strange noises in the house. Ellis was still slumbering peacefully so she put on her dressing-gown and went downstairs to see what was happening. The sounds seemed to be coming from Ellis’s study and after a few moments hesitation she opened the door and peeped in. All the furniture in the room was swathed in dust sheets—that was the first thing she noticed—and of course she remembered now that Mrs. Warmer was expecting Mr. Carruthers to come and examine the ‘chimbley’ which was inclined to smoke when the wind was in the east. Mrs. Warmer had been looking forward to his visit for some time and Bel certainly would not have forgotten about it if her mind had not been so full of other, more important matters.

  She went a little farther into the room and now perceived the hind-quarters of a man in the fireplace. His head and shoulders were half-way up the chimney, so it was impossible to tell whether this was actually Mr. Carruthers himself or Mr. Crouch, his assistant, but as Bel particularly wanted to speak to Mr. Carruthers about the unsatisfactory condition of the chimney she decided to chance it. She was in her dressing-gown of course but she did not think Mr. Carruthers would mind.

  “Mr. Carruthers!” said Bel loudly.

  The man came backwards out of the chimney and looked up at her from his kneeling position on the floor. Even then Bel was not quite certain, for the face that looked up at her was unfamiliar—the skin quite black and the eyes curiously white.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Brownlee,” said the voice of Mr. Carruthers—the same voice which so often greeted her on the way to Church.

  “Oh, good morning, Mr. Carruthers,” said Bel. “I see you’re having a look at that chimney. We can’t understand what’s the matter with it. All the other chimneys in the house are so good, they never give any trouble at all, but this one——”

  “Ah, this one,” said Mr. Carruthers, shaking his head sadly. “This chimbley ’as always given trouble and always will—more trouble than all the other chimbleys put together.”

  “Always will?” asked Bel.

  “Always will,” nodded Mr. Carruthers. “It’s the con-struction, Mrs. Brownlee.”

  “Can’t you do anything about it?”

  “Not unless I was to pull down the ’ouse.”

  “Oh dear!” cried Bel in dismay. “You mean——”

  “I mean it’s crooked,” he explained. “That’s the ’ole trouble, and we can’t do nothing about that. It’s like this, you see; if you was to put your ’ead up the droring-room chimbley you would see right up to the sky, but if you was to put your ’ead up this chimbley you wouldn’t see nothing—because it’s crooked.”

  This explanation cleared up the matter, but distressed Bel considerably. “Oh, how dreadful!” she exclaimed. “I wonder why they made it like that.”

  “Ah, now you’re asking,” declared Mr. Carruthers, blinking at her with his queer white eyes. “Chimbleys is like people, Mrs. Brownlee. There’s some that’s made crooked with awk’ard corners that gets choked up with soot—they gives a lot of trouble in the world—and there’s some that’s made straight and draw as pretty as you please. They don’t give no trouble at all—the straight ones don’t. They go up from the sitting-room to ’eaven. Just like chimbleys, people are—some crooked and some straight—and you won’t make the crooked ones straight no matter ’ow ’ard you try. Of course you could put on a cowl. That ’elps sometimes.”

  Bel was bewildered. She was not sure whether Mr. Carruthers was still talking about people (‘It is not the cowl that makes the monk’, she thought). She was still trying to see how it applied when Mr. Carruthers made a sudden decision.

  “That’s what to do,” he declared. “I might ’ave thought of that before. I’ll put on a cowl. If it don’t do no good it won’t do no ’arm—as the barber said when ’e sold the bald-’eaded customer a bottle of ’air-oil. Ha, ha!” exclaimed Mr. Carruthers opening a very red mouth and displaying a set of very white teeth. “Ha, ha, ha! That’s a good ’un!”

  Bel laughed too, she thought it an excellent joke; so when she had arranged with Mr. Carruthers to get a cowl and put it on the ‘chimbley’ as soon as possible, she ran upstairs to see if Ellis were awake and if so to tell him all about it.

  Fortunately Ellis had wakened some time ago and had been wondering where she had gone, so he was quite ready to listen to the whole story and to enjoy the joke. They agreed that one of the charms of living in the country was the contact with country people—people who were unusual and interesting and, best of all, absolutely natural.

  “Chimbleys,” said Ellis thoughtfully. “It’s a nice word, isn’t it?—and so much easier to say.”

  Bel smiled. “It’s frightfully infectious,” she declared. “I almost said chimbley to Mr. Carruthers. I wonder whether he would have noticed.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Roy Lestrange was considerably astonished when he received the cheque for twenty-five pounds by return of post. The sum he had named as an acceptable price for the bureau had been a shot in the dark; he had no idea of the value of furniture and could not be bothered to find out. He would have accepted less quite cheerfully. For a few moments Roy hesitated, cheque in hand, wondering whether he should have asked more, wondering whether it was now too late to sting that fellow Brownlee for another fiver. However the cheque was here, so perhaps it
would be safer to keep it (‘a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush’, thought Roy). Besides he needed the money—when did he not need money?—so the matter settled itself.

  The matter being settled, Roy decided that it might be just as well to complete the transaction without delay, so he cashed the cheque, made arrangements to send off the bureau as soon as possible and thought no more about it.

  Of course Bel was tremendously excited when she saw the British Railway-van draw up at the gate and the packing-case being unloaded. She had been looking forward to reading the letters and diaries. Indeed she had waited so long—ever since the first day she had seen Roy Lestrange and given him tea in her drawing-room—that she had almost given up hope of ever seeing them.

  Bel called to Mrs. Warmer and ran out to the gate.

  “Shall we carry it in, Miss?” asked the driver.

  “Oh yes,” said Bel breathlessly. “Yes. Please carry it in.”

  “No,” said Mrs. Warmer who had followed her from the house.

  “Yes or no?” asked the man, smiling.

  “No,” repeated Mrs. Warmer firmly. “Just put it down here on the path. I don’t want that dirty old crate in my nice clean hall.”

  Although her manner was forbidding Mrs. Warmer was delighted at the arrival of the bureau (everything and everybody that arrived at Fletchers End was welcomed with joy by Mrs. Warmer) so the moment the men had put down the packing-case on the path outside the front-door she fetched a hammer and a chisel and proceeded to open it.

  “Just look at that, Mrs. Brownlee!” Mrs. Warmer exclaimed. “Did you ever see such dirt? It’s a good thing I was here or they’d have brought it into the house. Mr. Brownlee made a fine old mess when he opened that picture, but this is worse.”

  Bel was obliged to admit that Mrs. Warmer was right. The packing-case was extremely dirty, the straw was dirty and smelt of mice, and when the bureau was revealed it presented a very sorry appearance. Bel was horrified when she saw it. Was this miserable-looking object the bureau for which Ellis had paid twenty-five pounds?