Bel Lamington

by D. E. Stevenson

  “Oh—yes,” said Bel, somewhat startled at this outburst. “Yes, I see what you mean, but I don’t think Alec . . . I mean he’s very devoted to you, and——”

  “I know,” agreed Louise. “It would be quite all right at first—everything would be couleur de rose—but when the rapture wore off a bit Alec would return to his old love and his wife would be Mrs. Plack. Fishing is an incurable disease,” added Louise. She sat down at the dressing-table, seized her hair-brush and began to brush her hair with unusual vigour.

  “But I wonder whether——” began Bel.

  “Oh yes,” declared Louise. “Oh yes, I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been through it with Daddy. Of course Daddy only gets three weeks’ holiday in the year. I can bear it for three weeks. In fact I can bear it quite easily because I like the dear old darling to enjoy himself. He deserves it. He works so frightfully hard the rest of the time. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, indeed!”

  “When a person works frightfully hard for forty-nine weeks he’s entitled to three weeks’ holiday. That’s what I think.”

  Bel thought so too.

  “It would be quite different with Alec,” Louise continued. “Alec has got pots of money and doesn’t need to bother about his business.”

  “What is his business?”

  “Oh, something in Edinburgh,” said Louise vaguely. “At any rate—whatever it is—it seems to be able to carry on quite comfortably without Alec.”

  Bel hesitated for a few moments and then she said, “I think you should tell him.”

  “Tell him what? Oh, you mean tell him I won’t be Mrs. Plack? But I can’t refuse the man till he’s asked me, can I?”

  “He’s tried to ask you several times.”

  “You seem to know a lot about it!”

  “Yes,” said Bel. She went over to the dressing-table and put her arms round Louise’s neck. They looked at each other in the mirror. Bel was very serious. Louise was smiling.

  “Well, go on,” she said. “What did he tell you?”

  “Quite a lot,” said Bel, putting her cheek against Louise’s curls. “He loves you quite desperately. He asked me if I thought there was any hope.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I didn’t know—he had better ask you himself—so then he said he had tried but you wouldn’t let him. He said you ‘rode him off’.”

  “Yes, I did,” admitted Louise. “As a matter of fact it wasn’t very difficult. Go on, Bel.”

  “Well, then he said would I sound you.”

  “And you said yes.”

  “I said no. I said I wouldn’t interfere.”

  “But you are interfering, aren’t you?”

  “I suppose I am, really. I didn’t mean to but I’m awfully sorry for him. He really is quite desperate. He said if there was no hope he would go to Loch Leven.”

  “Loch Leven!” exclaimed Louise, beginning to laugh. “Oh Bel, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard for ages! If there’s no hope he’s going to Loch Leven!” She was laughing uncontrollably now. She put her head down on the dressing-table and laughed and laughed. Perhaps there was something a little hysterical about her laughter but for all that it was infectious.

  Bel was obliged to smile. She said, “I wish you’d tell me the joke. What’s so funny about Loch Leven?”

  “Nothing—f-funny,” declared Louise, still laughing helplessly. “Nothing—f-funny—except that it’s—t-teeming with f-fish.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Bel. As a matter of fact she saw a good deal. She saw that she should not have interfered. It certainly would have been better for Alec if she had kept her mouth shut—but how was she to know? Anyhow it couldn’t be helped. Things that have been said can never be unsaid. What an alarming thought!

  When Louise had recovered from her paroxysms she sat up and wiped her eyes. “Well, that settles it,” she declared. “I was swithering a bit—as Mrs. Simpson would say—but that absolutely settles it. Alec can go to Loch Leven.”

  “Oh Louise, are you sure?”

  “I won’t be Mrs. Plack,” declared Louise with determination. “I’ve made up my mind quite definitely, so you needn’t try to persuade me.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” said Bel. She went across the room and got into bed.

  Presently Louise came and kissed her. “Goodnight, darling Bel,” said Louise. “You were quite right. I was being rather a beast. It was just that I couldn’t quite make up my mind. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I was swithering, but I’m not swithering any more. I shall tell Alec to go to Loch Leven and I hope he’ll catch lots and lots of fish.”

  “Oh Louise, are you sure?”

  “Quite, quite certain,” said Louise.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was a very wet morning. The rain was falling gently but inexorably; it looked as if it could go on falling like that for days on end without stopping for a moment. The anglers did not mind, of course, they all went off quite cheerfully, swathed in waterproof from head to foot. The only people left in the lounge were Bel and Louise, sitting by the fire, and Mrs. Plack writing her interminable letters.

  After a while Mrs. Plack got up. “I think I’ll go out,” she said. “I shall put on my mackintosh and take my umbrella. Is there anything I can do for you in the town.”

  “No, thank you,” said Bel.

  “Not stamps or anything?” asked Mrs. Plack in surprise. “I find I get through such a lot of stamps. I never seem to have enough.”

  “No, thank you,” said Louise. “It’s very kind of you, but there’s nothing we want in the town. Is there, Bel?”

  “No, nothing,” said Bel.

  “Perhaps I had better get some darning wool,” said Mrs. Plack, hovering indecisively. “And I might go and have a cup of coffee at the tea-shop. That would help to pass the time.” She drifted out of the door and shut it behind her.

  “Poor soul!” said Louise with a sigh. “She would be so much happier if she had married a ploughman.”

  Bel was inclined to agree.

  “I’ve told Alec,” continued Louise, leaning forward and lowering her voice to a confidential whisper. “I got hold of him this morning before he went out. He’s going to Loch Leven.”

  There was a little silence. The flames in the fire leapt up in a cheerful manner and licked round the logs.

  “Nice fire!” said Louise at last. “I shall order some logs when I get home. It would be fun to have a log fire in the winter evenings. What a happy time we’ve had, haven’t we, Bel?”

  It was the way Louise spoke—more than the actual words—which gave Bel a qualm of dismay. Louise had spoken as if the holiday at Drumburly were nearly over! Bel suddenly remembered that the Armstrongs had been here more than a week before she had come and, as the doctor only got three weeks’ holiday, they were due to return south on Thursday. How silly she had been! How absolutely crazy to have spent her time enjoying herself without thinking about the future! What on earth was she going to do when this blissful interlude came to an end?

  “Bel, you’re not listening,” said Louise. “You must listen because it’s important. We’ve got to make plans. I’ve been talking it over with Daddy. You must come back with us to Coombe House until you get another job. That’s fixed. Daddy will be able to find another job for you. He’ll see about it when he gets home. It will be quite easy.”

  “Not without a reference,” said Bel in a queer, strained sort of voice.

  “A reference?” asked Louise in surprise.

  “I haven’t got a reference. I was dismissed at a moment’s notice. I told you that.”

  Evidently this was a new idea to Louise. “Will that matter?” she asked in a doubtful voice.

  “No firm will engage me without a reference.”

  There was silence for a few moments and then Louise said firmly, “They must give you one, that’s all. Daddy will make them give you a referen
ce. It was all a mistake, wasn’t it? The only thing to do is to get the whole thing cleared up.”

  “Oh no!” Bel exclaimed. “No, you don’t understand!”

  “But, Bel——”

  “No!” cried Bel. “No! It’s all finished and done with. I don’t want to think about it any more. I’ve been trying terribly hard not to think about it. You’ve no idea how dreadful it was—all the jealousy and the tale-bearing and Mr. Wills so angry! I hate rows and shouting and disagreeableness—it makes me feel quite ill!”

  “But, Bel, it ought to be cleared up—really,” said Louise in a reasoning tone of voice. “Daddy would go and see Mr. Wills and explain——”

  “No, no!” cried Bel frantically. “No, he mustn’t! There would be a frightful row—and anyhow it wouldn’t be any good. It can’t be explained. I’ve told you that before. It’s all mixed up—lies and truth together! It’s true that I had lunch with Mr. James; it’s true that he came and worked with me; it’s true that he brought me flowers.”

  “But there was no harm in it, was there?”

  “All that is true,” cried Bel, taking no notice of the interruption. “All that is true—so it can’t be explained away. And by this time everybody in the office has been talking about it and making the worst of it. They all hated me because I was promoted to be Mr. Brownlee’s secretary—with more pay and everything—so of course they’ll be terribly pleased. I can’t bear to think about it. I just want to wash out the whole thing. It’s like a nightmare!”

  Bel had been trying so terribly hard to wash out the whole thing and to a certain extent she had succeeded. Her holiday at Drumburly had been so full of pleasures and so absolutely different from anything she had experienced before that she had had very little time to brood. Every now and then the nightmare had descended upon her but she had banished it as quickly as she could.

  It would have been easier to banish the nightmare if she had not been so interested in the firm. For months and months her only real interest in life had been the affairs of Copping, Wills and Brownlee. She felt bound up with them—as if she belonged. She knew all their business inside out; knew all the names of the firms they dealt with in the different ports all over the world; knew all the ships which came to Copping Wharf with their cargoes of “ivory, apes and peacocks”. She knew about the warehouses, when they had been built and their storage capacity. Bel had been proud to work for the firm, proud of its traditions and of the men who had built it up to be a power in the world of merchandise. When she had said to Mr. Copping, “Four generations of Coppings!” she had said it with pride.

  It was all over now. It was all spoilt. She could never go back. Even if they wanted her she couldn’t go back—and of course they wouldn’t want her. Wash it out! Begin again! Take a job somewhere else! But would any reputable firm engage her without a reference? (Bel imagined herself being interviewed: “Where have you been working since you left the training school? Oh, Copping, Wills and Brownlee. They’ll give you a reference, of course.”)

  “Bel, darling! Don’t look like that!” exclaimed Louise in alarm.

  “Look like what?”

  “As if——as if something terrible had happened.”

  “It’s my face,” said Bel in a shaky voice. “I can’t help my face. Besides it is—rather—terrible. What’s going to happen to me?”

  “It will be all right,” declared Louise, leaning forward and taking Bel’s hand in a firm clasp. “It will be all right—honestly, darling. You can stay with us as long as you like. You mustn’t worry. Daddy will find you a job. I’ll explain to Daddy that you don’t want him to go near those horrible people. Horrible, horrible people to treat you like that! Look, darling, we won’t talk about it any more. We’ll forget about it. We’ll pretend that there isn’t such a firm as Copping, Wills and Brownlee.”

  “Yes, that’s the—best way,” said Bel with a little catch in her breath.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  There were still several days before the Armstrongs and Bel had to leave Drumburly. On Monday Louise and Bel went for another expedition on the hills, on Tuesday they had been asked to tea at Mureth House. Unfortunately Bel was unable to enjoy these days whole-heartedly. There was a cloud upon her spirits. She had agreed with Louise that the best thing to do was to forget all her troubles: but it is one thing to know what is the best thing to do and quite another thing to be able to do it.

  Bel was not looking forward to the tea-party. Louise had been to Mureth twice, but both times Bel had managed to find an excuse. Bel was not sociably inclined; she shrank from the idea of meeting a lot of strangers and being expected to take part in their conversation. She would far rather stay at home. This time however it was impossible to find an excuse, for Louise would have been disappointed. Louise was so anxious for Bel to meet her relations—and it was the last chance.

  “You’ll like them,” said Louise as they set off together in the car. “They’re perfect darlings; especially Aunt Mamie. Uncle Jock is nice too. You won’t feel a bit shy. Nobody could feel shy of them, they’re so natural and friendly. Rhoda will probably be there too. You liked Rhoda, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Bel. As a matter of fact Bel had been thinking quite a lot about Rhoda Dering Johnstone since their unexpected meeting in Drumburly. Once you had met Rhoda and had felt the impact of her personality it would have been difficult to forget her. Bel had hoped to see her again but apparently “Flockie” was still in bed—tied down with ropes—and Rhoda was too busy to take part in social occasions.

  The road from Drumburly to Mureth was like a switchback—or perhaps more like a scenic railway—it went up and down and the scenery was perfectly beautiful. There were heathery hills on one side and glimpses of the river on the other. Bel wished the drive would go on and on but after five miles of it they arrived at Mureth House, turned in through the big stone gateway and drew up at the door.

  “We don’t ring,” said Louise. “We just walk in. That’s one of the things about Mureth, they never lock the door, night or day. It’s because once, long ago, Dr. Forrester got lost in the snow and staggered into the hall and collapsed on the floor. If the door had been locked he would probably have died. So ever since then Uncle Jock and Aunt Mamie have never allowed the door to be locked.”

  Bel was naturally interested in this saga, and despite her shyness she was interested in Mureth House. The hall was wide and spacious; there was a blue carpet on the floor; at one side there was a dark oak table, beautifully polished, on the other side was a curving flight of stairs.

  It was dim in the hall but when Louise threw open the door into the drawing-room there was a sudden flood of light, for the sun was shining in through the bay windows. It was a big room, slightly shabby but comfortable—with cretonne-covered chairs and solid furniture. Bel received the impression that this was a room which was lived in constantly, not kept for special occasions. She had no time to receive any further impressions because its owners were there.

  Mamie Johnstone leapt up from the sofa where she had been sitting and kissed Louise fondly. “How lovely to see you!” she exclaimed. “And you’ve brought your friend this time!” She turned to Bel and added, “Louise has told us such a lot about you, Miss Lamington.”

  Jock Johnstone rose more slowly from his chair near the fire. He was a big man—big in every way, thought Bel, as her hand disappeared into his grasp. She looked up at him and saw that he was smiling at her very kindly.

  “Well now, where are you going to sit?” he asked. “Where are they to sit, Mamie?”

  “Near the table,” she replied. “We’ll start tea at once.”

  Tea was laid on a big round table with a silver tray and teapot and willow-pattern cups and saucers. There were plates of scones and buns and biscuits and a big fruit-cake on a silver stand, and there was jam and honey and a huge slab of yellow farm-butter.

  “Isn’t Rhoda coming, Aunt Mamie?” asked Louise as they settled themselves comfortably round
the table.

  “We’re hoping she’s coming,” Mamie replied. “It all depends upon whether she can get somebody to look after the boys.”

  “Could she not have brought the boys with her?” asked Jock.

  “I asked her,” said Mamie as she lifted the big silver teapot and began to pour out the tea. “I asked her to bring the boys but she said they were better at home. They’re sometimes rather naughty.”

  “Och, they’re not too bad,” declared Jock smiling. “They’re just a wee bit boisterous, that’s all.”

  “I think Rhoda’s boys are rather amusing,” said Louise.

  At this moment the door opened and Rhoda appeared. “Hullo!” she exclaimed. “Hullo, Louise. You wouldn’t think Rhoda’s boys were so amusing if you had to look after them all day long!”

  “Oh Rhoda!” exclaimed Mamie. “We were so afraid you weren’t coming.”

  “It’s grand to see you, Rhoda!” declared Jock.

  They were all saying the same thing in different words; they were all talking at once; they were all delighted that she had come.

  Bel, also, was delighted for she had been looking forward to seeing Mrs. Dering Johnstone. Bel had thought she was beautiful—and so she was—but somehow she did not seem so full of life today, not quite so effervescent. She looked tired and there were blue shadows beneath her sea-blue eyes.

  “I very nearly didn’t come,” said Rhoda when she had replied to all the greetings. “I’ve had an awful day. Poor Flockie has got to have an operation. They came and fetched her in an ambulance and there was a frightful scene because she didn’t want to go. She clung to me like a limpet and the boys both howled. You’ve no idea how ghastly it was. I’d have gone with her in the ambulance if I could—but of course I couldn’t. I mean there would have been nobody to look after James and the boys.”