MRS. HICKS IMPARTS A SECRET
The letter from Mrs. Hicks to her "hubby" gave a fairly good sketch of events at the Court. There had been tennis, boating, Bridge, dancing, a certain amount of strolling about the lawns and turf walks, and sitting in rustic arbours, with congenial companions. Mrs. Hicks had played well, and vigorously in the married ladies against single, and it seemed to Mayne like good old days, when she served her cleverly placed balls, and shouted her triumphs.
On her arrival at the Court, Nancy, her neighbour, had taken her under her wing, inspected her wardrobe, subdued its too vivid colours with lace and chiffon, altered the style of her friend's hats with her own clever fingers, and made useful suggestions with regard to coiffure. Also, she gave her the names and characteristics of expected guests, and did her utmost to make her comfortable, and put her at her ease,—and Mrs. Hicks was not ungrateful. As she stood patiently, whilst the girl pinned and arranged a fichu upon her portly form, she said, "I declare to you, Nancy, you've done more to fix me up, and show me the ropes in two days, than my own girls in two years. Of course they are busy with their love affairs,—and you have none,—and it's your own fault. There isn't a young man I know, that can hold a candle to Mayne, as to looks and manners. He took the shine out of them all, at Jessie's wedding. Why can't you make it up?"
"It takes two to do that," said Nancy, as she took a pin out of her mouth.
"Ah, I suppose the letter you sent him choked him off? It's funny you and he being in the same set, and him coming to stay in this very house."
"Yes: too funny to be pleasant."
"Lots of girls like him; I saw that at Jessie's wedding, and when I was down at Burlingham,—and there's one lady, unless I am greatly mistaken, likes him uncommon,—that Mrs. Speyde, a niece of Finchie's. She is always running after him, I am told. Maybe they'll run away together, some day! Why, Nancy child, I declare you look quite vexed! You're not jealous, are you?"
"Of course not,"—now giving the fichu a twitch,—"what a ridiculous idea."
"Well, if he would only throw a book at you, before a witness,—and then run away with someone, it would make matters so nice and simple."
"Simple, yes, but not exactly nice."—After a moment's hesitation, and a fresh pin, "I always thought you liked him, Mrs. Hicks."
"So I do, but it's you, I'm really fond of; it's for your good I'm thinking. Don't I remember you a little darling in your nurse's arms? as for him, I only knew him for a matter of a few weeks. If you would put your pride in your pocket, all might yet be well: that is to say, if you liked him. Do you Nancy? Come now, own up?"
Nancy made no reply for some moments; at last she said, "I like him better than I did; there, now your fichu is all right, and looks very nice; you must wear it this evening,—but mind you don't put it on wrong side out! Now I must run and dress," and imprinting a kiss on Mrs. Hicks' hard and healthy cheek, she hurried out of the room.
A few days later, Nancy had reason to repeat Mrs. Hicks' question, was she jealous? Strange to say, the idea did not now appear to be so supremely ridiculous. Within the last week, she'd been a little startled at the discovery of emotions, the existence of which took her by surprise! She found, that it gave her a painful sensation to see Josie and Captain Mayne, on such excellent and intimate terms. They sat and talked, motored, and danced together—almost as if they were an engaged couple. She endeavoured to console herself with the fact, that it was Josie who was playing the part of enchantress: she had a wonderful power of appropriating the interest of a man.
It was a by no means unusual sight, to behold the fascinating Mrs. Speyde, encompassed by a little crowd of admirers;—whilst other and far prettier women were overlooked, and neglected. Of late she had an instinct that relations between herself and Josie were changed; and that Josie no longer liked her. More than once, she had caught her black eyes fixed upon her with a steady and vindictive glare; in her remarks there was a belittling and malicious note—and she had felt herself laughed at, and so to speak "baited," for the entertainment of the company,—yes, no later than that very day at breakfast! Josie was a splendid mimic, and if her manner was rather boisterous, no one could tell a story with more vivacity and point. Her usual plan was to relate the joint adventure of herself, and victim,—describing it with grotesque exaggeration, and gesture, and making her unfortunate butt, look contemptibly foolish, and ridiculous. Expostulation was useless,—after all, the story was not told behind the subject's back, but boldly face to face, with audacious effrontery, and Nancy's feeble explanations, were drowned in shouts of laughter. The merest incident was sufficient excuse, on which to hang a tale, and Josie's victims never had the wit or spirits, to carry the war into the enemy's quarter,—and the tyrant scored.
Although Captain Mayne and Nancy saw but little of one another indoors, they had been drawn to play together in the "Ladies' and gentlemen's doubles." This had excited the jealousy of Mrs. Speyde, and although she intrigued and manœuvred, nothing she did or said, could alter the detestable fact. Nancy knew by instinct, that her late friend hated to see her and Captain Mayne together,—even if it were only for a few minutes; when they barely exchanged a word!
The weather was perfect, though still rather warm; and the scene in the grounds and around the tennis courts, had been described in the local paper, as "brilliant." No such successful tournament had taken place for years; the sun had shone, and the world and his wife had flocked to Newenham from far and near, and there been entertained, with first-class tennis, excellent refreshments, and any amount of grapeseed!
It had been a particularly strenuous day for Nancy, who had not only played in two hard fought competitions, but in acting deputy hostess, among the very mixed multitude in the tents; seeing that ices and cup were unfailing, and in distributing little civilities among the crowd,—with Sir Dudley as her attendant. When the last game had been contested, and the last straggling group had dispersed, she strolled towards the river, accompanied by Mrs. Hicks, who pounced upon her bodily, and said, "Come you here, you little Nancy girl! I never get a word with you these times," taking her arm, and with a significant glance at Sir Dudley, she added, "turn about is fair play; he has had more than his share," she continued, as he moved off.
"My goodness! how the time flies, I've been here five days, and they have gone like greased lightning. Let us go and sit on the bench by the boat-house, and see if there is a bit of air from the river!"
"You played in your very best form to-day," said Nancy. "Your service was splendid; I felt immensely proud of you."
"Thank you, my dear, the same to you!" she rejoined, seating herself with a sigh of satisfaction. "Who's them two over in the boat? I'm getting a bit short-sighted?"
"Mrs. Speyde, and Captain Mayne."
"They don't seem to be rowing?"
"No, just drifting,—and talking."
"Drifting! so they are,—well! well! well! Look here, Nancy girl, I've got something to say to you. There's no one in the boat-house, is there?" peering round.
"No one,—and is it really such a secret?" and she laughed.
"You shall judge for yourself! The last three days I have kept my eyes open."
"Are they ever shut?"
"Now don't interrupt me, with your stupid jokes," protested her companion, with a touch of impatience. "I've seen, that you and him, for all your stand-off airs,—like one another right well."
"What makes you think so?"
"The use of my senses. I've noticed you smiling and jabbering together just like old times,—although you were only talking tennis; and I believe you're a bit jealous,—always a very healthy sign. Now, my dear child, take an old friend's advice, and don't make the mistake of your life! Good fortune, and a providential chance, have brought you and Mayne here together. Are you going to let him drift away?"
"But why do you talk as if I were the one to act and come forward?"
"Because you are! Now listen to me," seizing her hand in a firm grip, "it is for you to make the advance; you gave him the go-by; it was certainly an amazing act for a girl of your age. Now I think you have come to your senses; but he is frightened of your money. Yes!" she continued with emphasis, "he as good as told Teddy, and I dug it out of him,—that had you not been an heiress, he would have been willing to make it up!"
"He said that,—did he?" said Nancy with a quick catch in her breath.
"So Teddy informed me, and I have always found him to speak the truth. He told me, as a dead, dead, secret,—and mind you let it go no further, for if Teddy knew, he'd eat me,—although I am his mother-in-law! Seeing how things are, and being really fond of you, Nancy, I thought I'd not allow love to pass out of your life, without doing my best to interfere, and stop it."
Nancy's colour was high, her heart beat unusually fast; here, indeed, was a wonderful piece of information. So it was not altogether her unpardonable flight,—but the money, that stood between them. She sat for a long time in dead silence, with her eyes fixed upon the river. At last she murmured, "I don't see how I could possibly do it."
"You'll find it easy enough, once you and he are face to face; you will never have a chance here; never a moment together, unless when playing tennis: that gay lady in the boat, now lighting her cigarette on his, takes right good care of that!"
"But I thought you were so near-sighted?" said Nancy, with a faint smile.
"Only when it's convenient: and I thought perhaps you might not notice the pair. Well, here is that long-legged young Tony and Miss Miller, coming to fetch you," said Mrs. Hicks, rising as she spoke. "Think over what I have told you, my dear child, and don't let matters slide! I'll just go in, and get a bit of a rest before dinner,—my poor old joints, ay, but they do ache!"