04 Young Renny

by Mazo de La Roche

  "Where have you been all day?"

  "In the stables," he returned, and smiled at her disarmingly.

  As soon as brother and sister could they escaped to her room. There, walking up and down, he poured out the story of his love for Vera and his desire to be married to her before she left for England. If Meg had had doubts on the subject they were swept away by his eagerness, his boyish animation. She planned with him how the secret arrangements could be carried out. She and Vera would go to town together, he would meet them there, and in some remote church, or even in a registry office, the ceremony would be performed.

  "What a darling you are, Meggie!" he said. "Vera and I will never forget how you have helped us in this, you may be sure. I wish to goodness that I had an engagement ring for her. It is beastly hard luck that I haven't enough money for that! If only I had won the prize - I could have bought her a beauty!"

  "How tragic!" she said, mimicking Malahide's mincing tone.

  "You know, Gran showed me a ring one day that she told me I was to have for my fiancee. The pearl set in diamonds. It would look lovely on Vera's hand."

  "If I hadn't given Maurice back his," said Meg, "you might have had that."

  He did not take to this idea. "It would be unlucky," he said.

  Meg heaved a deep sigh. Her lip trembled, then, after a moment's thought, she brightened and said: -

  "Why don't you try to get possession of the ring Gran promised you? She said it was to be yours when you became engaged. You are engaged, so it is yours to all intents and purposes."

  He looked startled at the suggestion. Such a proceeding would have never entered his head, but it seemed reasonable and just. He said: -

  "If only I could lay hands on it!"

  "That is the easiest thing in the world," said Meg. "It's only her money she locks up. Never her jewels. After supper, when she is settled in the drawing room, we'll go to her room and, if I don't find that ring, I'll eat my hat!"

  "That new Merry Widow one?" he demanded, his eyes shining with excitement.

  "Yes. We must take a banana with us so that, if we're discovered, we'll pretend to be feeding Boney - teaching him something naughty. That will take Gran's mind off any suspicion."

  Renny regarded her admiringly. There she stood, solid and complete, a world in herself, moving in her own orbit, knowing just what to do. Yet qualms assailed him.

  "I wonder if I had better take the ring," he said. "It seems a queer thing to do."

  She turned on him scornfully.

  "Are you engaged to Vera?"

  "Certainly."

  "Did Granny tell you that this ring was for your fiancee?"

  "She did."

  "Then why do you think it strange to take it?"

  "It seems like stealing."

  "Is it stealing to take your own? Besides, just as soon as you are married you will confess all."

  "What if Gran made me return the ring?"

  "She couldn't. Vera would have it and that would be final."

  "What if she should miss the ring at once?"

  "Never! It's in a box she seldom opens."

  He was convinced. He put his scruples behind him.

  It seemed a long while till the lights were on in the drawing room and Meg, reconnoitring, declared the way open. She stood at the foot of the stairs, her round, pretty face alight with mischief, a banana in her hand. As he came softly down the steps to join her he had the hilarious feeling of their days of childish plotting. She took his hand and led him to the door of their grandmother's room.

  There he hesitated, and said - "Look here, why need I go in? You know just where the ring is. I had better wait here and keep watch."

  "Coward!" hissed Meg. "And idiot, too! You may be seen hanging about here. Inside we are safe." Softly she opened the door and led him in.

  "Light a match," she commanded.

  He struck one and she turned up the wick of the low brass lamp. Now its warm light brought the room to life. The painted fruit and flowers of the bedstead showed their rich colours. The ornate wallpaper, the vivid Chinese rug, the mulberry window curtains and polished mahogany, all revealed the sumptuous taste of the occupant. On the mantel stood a delicate statue of the goddess Kuan Yen, her fine porcelain hands like the petals of flowers. The parrot was asleep on his perch.

  Meg put the banana into Renny's hand. "Now," she said, and she was in her element, "let us waste no time. If you hear anyone coming, give Boney a prod and begin to feed him. Let me see, where does Gran keep this box? Yes, in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe." She drew out the drawer and disclosed the orderly arrangement of Adeline's treasures, expensive materials hoarded for many years, ivory fans, a cashmere shawl, lace fichus, and a number of small boxes. The faint scent of bygone gayety rose from them.

  Meg pounced on a wine-coloured velvet box.

  "Here," she exclaimed and opened it eagerly. Her soft fingers explored its contents, which, characteristic of Adeline, were a mixture of the valuable and worthless. In triumph Meg held up the ring, a pure pearl surrounded by diamonds.

  "Aren't I a good sister?"

  "You're a duck, Meggie! Let me see it." He took it in his hand, a look of proud determination hardening his features. "It will look well on Vera. Have you noticed her hands?"

  "Yes, they're quite nice. She sleeps in gloves lined with almond paste."

  Renny was silent. He was looking at the cluster of jewels on his palm and thinking what they signified to him and Vera, of their future together, how he would care for and protect her.

  Although they had been so quiet they had disturbed Boney. He raised his head, gaped, and spread one wing. His bright eye roved over the room seeking Adeline. It was not right that other people should be there without her. Something in the very attitude of the intruders irritated him. He made noises which were preliminary to an outburst of anger.

  "Pretty Poll," soothed Meg. "Give him a bit of banana, Renny"

  Renny drew back the skin from the fruit and proffered it, but Boney turned his beak away. He gave a furious peck at the jewel in Renny's hand and ejaculated loudly: -

  "Chore! Chore!"

  "Good heavens!" said Meg, struggling with the clasp of the box. "He'll have the family in here! Offer him the banana.

  "He won't take it."

  Boney still glared at the ring, screaming - "Chore! Chore!"

  "It means thief," said Renny, hoarsely. "Isn't that appalling?"

  Meg, terribly flustered thrust the box into its place and closed the drawer.

  "Chore! Chore!"Boney rocked on his perch. Nothing could induce him to touch the banana. Now, between the open curtains, he saw through the window a pale face peering between the branches of the lilac tree. It was Malahide, risen from his bed, and prowling about the garden in a disturbed, yet exalted state of mind. Seeing a light in Adeline's room, he had thought, if he found her there, to enter and have a private talk with her. Seeing instead her grandchildren, wearing the air of conspirators, he stood immovable, watching them.

  Boney now burst out with - "Hell! Hell! Hell with Malahide! Malahide! Malahide! Malahide!" He sidled up and down his perch in sinuous spleen.

  Renny blew out the light and they fled into the hall. Like shadows they crept up the stairs and did not stop till they reached Meg's room. There she sank into a chair, laughing and holding her side.

  "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I've such a stitch! Oh, what a bird!"

  "Well," said Renny, "it was just a little too uncanny. We didn't escape a moment too soon."

  He put the ring on his little finger and began to eat the banana.

  ~1

  NICHOLAS AND PHILIP left for their shooting trip two mornings later. The combined assistance of servants and family was required to get them off. The tent, the great canvas bag of rugs and blankets, had been taken to the station earlier; also the box of tinned goods, bacon, eggs, and jam. Their small bags, their guns and ammunition, they took with them in the trap. Keno sat between Philip's knees, beamin
g content on his forehead, his muzzle reaching now and again to the case which held Philip's gun. A young pointer, just being trained, was held on a lead by Nicholas.

  A severe frost had crisped the grass the night before. The dahlias hung black and sodden on their stalks. Nasturtiums and asters were quite dead, but here and there a marigold raised its bright face in the border. The air was so clear, so nipping, that it was all Hodge could do to keep the horses in order. Mary, in her thin blue dress, hugged herself to keep warm, as she laughed up at Philip.

  "Don't fail to send partridges! And quail. I like them both better than duck. And don't come home with a dreadful yellow beard as you did last year! Be careful of your rheumatism, Nick. Oh, I do wonder if you have everything!"

  "Good Lord!" said Nicholas. "I have forgotten my liniment!"

  "Molly will fetch it," said Philip. "Run and get it, like a dear, Molly."

  "I'll fetch it! I'll fetch it!" cried Eden, who had carried his toast from the breakfast table and was feeding bits of it to the pointer.

  "What's forgotten, men?" asked Adeline, who, wrapped in a Scotch plaid, stood in the porch.

  "My Minard's Liniment," growled Nicholas. "In the under part of my washing stand."

  "Eden will fetch it."

  "No. He'll get the bottle buttery."

  "Let Meg bring it," said Philip. "Meggie, run and get Uncle Nick's liniment."

  Meg had just come out, carrying the baby in her arms. She pouted a little. "And carry Peep? He'll not let me put him down. Will you, sister's little angel?" She buried her face against his soft body and he buried his hands in the depths of her pompadour.

  "I'11 go!" cried Mary.

  "No, no," said Philip. "Let Eden go."

  "No!" shouted Nicholas. "Look at his hands!"

  Adeline thumped her stick on the porch. "Will no one get my son's liniment? Where are the maids?"

  Eliza appeared with Philip's pipe in her hand. She said severely, as she handed it to him: -

  "I found this, sir, full of hot ash, on the piano."

  Philip took it from her meekly. "Well, now, that's pretty bad, Eliza. But, never mind, you'll have the house very tidy while I'm away."

  Renny, hands deep in pockets, lounged round the corner of the house. His father and uncle ordered him simultaneously to bring the liniment. He dashed into the house and up the stairs.

  "Look at him," said Nicholas. "Did you ever see a strained ankle get well so fast?"

  "It was swollen. I saw it," said Philip. He looked affectionately at Renny as he approached, followed by Eden, begging to be allowed to carry the bottle of liniment. Philip had felt that he should have a serious talk with the boy before leaving. He would not see him again before he returned to college. But he could not bring himself to do it. He had simply said: -

  "Better luck next time, old man. And - hang on to your temper. Don't go knocking the masters about."

  With jocular adjurations from Adeline, cries of goodbye from the children, thrown kisses from Molly and Meg, the bays dashed away, sending up a shower of gravel. The dogs lifted up their voices in glad barks.

  But Renny made a trumpet of his hands and shouted - "Dad! Dad! Did you get the whiskey?"

  Philip shouted to Hodge. Hodge shouted "Whoa" to the horses and drew them in sharply. The young pointer, strangling himself in his lead, was cuffed by Nicholas.

  "Bring it! Bring it!" ordered Philip. "My God, Nick, we might have gone without it!"

  Again Renny dashed into the house with Eden after him. Adeline was so excited that she turned around in bewildered fashion in the porch. "When will they be gone!" she muttered. "This is too much!"

  Renny, bearing the heavy box of assorted spirits, hastened down the drive. It was difficult to find a place for it. Philip patted him on the shoulder, saying - "Good man!" and they were off again.

  It was several hours before Malahide appeared. A breakfast tray had been brought to him and, when the tumult of departure had subsided, he had turned again on his side and slept.

  It was nearly noon when he strolled along the road toward Admiral Lacey's house. He found the old man basking in the sun, which was now warm, on a south verandah overlooking his frost-blighted garden. The Admiral was not particularly pleased to see Malahide, for he never quite knew what to say to him, but any company was agreeable, as his family were entirely occupied by preparations for the departure of Violet and Vera.

  After a little desultory talk Malahide said, stroking his bluish chin: -

  "It is a great pleasure to me to be able to travel with your daughter and Vera. I hope I shall find the opportunity of being of service to them."

  "Well, well, I'm very glad they are to have a man with them. I don't think much of ladies travelling alone, even in these days."

  "Vera is a charming girl," said Malahide.

  "She's a nice child," agreed the Admiral. "But I shan't be sorry to see her go. She's been a responsibility. My son spoils her. It's not the way I brought up my daughters. The child resents being chaperoned, let me tell you. She's determined, and very artful in getting her own way."

  Malahide turned a melancholy face on him. He said: -

  "Admiral, I can't pretend to think Vera's engagement to young Renny anything other than lamentable."

  Admiral Lacey stared at him in astonishment. "Engagement! What d'ye mean engagement? There's no engagement that I know of."

  "Is it without your consent, then?"

  "Consent? I've never been asked. You are quite mistaken. There is no engagement."

  Malahide moved forward and whispered - "They are engaged, sir. She has his ring."

  Admiral Lacey turned a deep red. "I'll send for her," he said, "and see what she has to say for herself. As though I should allow an engagement! When she was sent over here to avoid one." Then he added, more coolly - "Not that I have anything against the boy. He is a fine lad. But he's not twenty yet. When he is a little older we may consider it."

  "A marriage between them," said Malahide, "would be nothing short of lamentable. I repeat the word, lamentable. He is not fit to touch an innocent girl - let alone marry her!"

  Admiral Lacy eyed him with distrust. "I wish you would explain yourself," he said stiffly.

  There was a conscious lubricity in Malahide's tone as he returned "It is easy to explain. Renny has been intimate with a woman - old enough to be his mother - a relative of the girl young Vaughan got into trouble."

  "Does Philip know of this?"

  "Yes, he knows of it."

  "Then, by the Lord Harry, he did wrong to let his young wastrel come over here to visit my granddaughter. I don't thank him for that. As for an engagement - do you say she wears his ring?"

  "Doubtless - in secret. The very way he got the ring was perfidious. He stole it from his grandmother!'

  The Admiral's slow moving blood gathered yet more strongly in his head. He turned purple. "Let me - let me -" he began incoherently.

  Malahide laid a quieting hand on his arm. "If you speak to Vera, excited as you are now, it may do more harm than good."

  "My dear man," answered Admiral Lacey, "I do not have to wait the opportune moment for addressing my granddaughter!"

  "Of course not. But if you wish to be impressive, choose the opportune moment. Choose the moment when they are in the room together. He comes here every day, doesn't he?"

  Although delay was against Admiral Lacey's inclination, he did wait till afternoon before descending on Vera and Renny. Renny came, as Malahide said he would, but not alone. Meg was with him, wearing one of the new enormous hats perched high on her head. Admiral Lacey hung about the hall, feeling strangely like the culprit himself, till the three young people were in the drawing room. He wished Meg were not with them. To tackle them alone would have been easier, he thought.

  Presently the strains of the "MerryWidowWaltz"came to him through the closed door. The three had been to see the opera only the week before. Sleeping or waking, it was difficult for them to get the melody of this wa
ltz out of their heads. The Admiral softly opened the door and peeped in.

  The long, narrow room with its slanting floor and small-paned windows, its water colours and Dresden china, its banner fire screen and crocheted antimacassars, was filled with the golden sunshine of late afternoon. At the draped square piano Meg sat, her face like a round enraptured flower under the enormous hat. She played the waltz as though she had, in that moment, composed it. She raised her hands high above the keyboard, letting the sweet seductive notes fall from them. If they were inaccurate, no one guessed it, for the two who danced were lost in a world of supple movement and youthful love.

  As well as they could they were imitating the dancing of the two stars they had seen the week before. Renny, in long agile steps, glided down the room, turning, turning, with Vera in his arms. She, resting in his embrace, bent backward as far as she could endure, gazing up into his face. On the white hand against his shoulder gleamed the pearl and diamond ring.

  The Admiral stood gazing open-mouthed for a space. In spite of himself he liked the looks of the waltz. And they way they performed it!

  "Bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "You might be professionals."

  The dancers stopped short, though the piano strayed on through another dreamy bar. Vera hid the hand that wore the ring.

  "Now, Renny," said Admiral Lacey. "I should like an explanation."

  "Of what?" asked Renny boldly.

  His tone had a hardening effect on the Admiral.

  "Of your manner of dancing with my granddaughter. It's not seemly."

  "It's the newest thing," said Vera.

  "All the worse for it - and for you! Why, you looked like foreigners!"

  "It is foreign," said Meg, from the piano stool. "It's a beautiful thing. The scene is in a country rather like Ruritania."

  "It is lovely to do," said Vera.

  "It is improper," replied her grandfather. "And what about the ring you are wearing? Show it to me."

  Vera was frightened. She looked at Renny for help, but he gave her none.

  "Show me that ring," repeated Admiral Lacey.

  Vera approached him, holding out her hand.

  "Hmph! It is not the first time I have seen it. I have seen it on Mrs. Whiteoak. You must explain to me how you came by it."