The house on the marsh

by Florence Warden

CHAPTER XV.

Laurence had promised to come for me early the next morning, saying that I should be wanted to help to arrange the stalls.

“I’ll bring two of the Manners boys, and say we’ve come for the benches Mr. Rayner offered to lend for the children’s tea,” said he.

“Then I’ll say Mrs. Manners begs you to come at once, and I’ll start off with the boys; and, when we get outside the gate, I’ll send them on with the benches and wait about for you.”

I wondered why he could not wait for me in the house as a matter of course; but he knew best, and I said nothing.

The next morning I put on a white frock that I had been busily making during all my spare time for the last fortnight, and a broad sash of the palest lemon and pink that I had been saving up for some great occasion. Then I slipped into the garden before breakfast—for there was no knowing how soon after he might come—to gather a flower to wear at my throat. I purposely chose rather a faded little rose, in the hope that Laurence might notice it and get me one himself to wear instead. I was going to put it in water until it was time to start, when Mr. Rayner met me at the window.

“Hallo, Miss Christie, stealing my roses! Well, since you had resolved to burden your conscience with a crime, you might have made it worth your while. But I am not going to permit you to spoil the effect of your pretty frock and destroy the reputation of my garden by wearing such a misshapen thing as that! Never! Come out again with me, and we’ll find something better.”

This was not what I wanted at all; but I was obliged to follow him, and to seem pleased when he gathered and gave me the loveliest little late tea-rose possible, and then found a beautiful bit of long soft moss to put round it. Laurence would never dare to suggest that this was not pretty enough to wear.

After breakfast, I went into the schoolroom with Haidee; but I was not in my usual soberly instructive mood; and, when I heard the front-door bell ring, I took the Child’s Guide to Knowledge from Haidee’s hand and gravely held it before me for some minutes until she said timidly—

“It begins at ‘What is tapioca?’ Miss Christie.”

Then I felt ashamed of myself, and, making an effort, heard all the rest of her lessons as intelligently as was necessary, and set her a copy in my best hand. Then, just as I was thinking that my reward must be very near now, my heart sank as I heard Laurence’s step returning through the hall, and those of the boys with him, while yet I had not been summoned. I wondered whether Laurence had forgotten all about me, and could have burst into tears at the thought that he would soon be helping to arrange the stalls with pretty Miss Kate Finch. But presently, when disappointment had given place to despair, I came to what I suppose was a better mood, and reflected that it was all a just punishment for the careless and neglectful manner in which I was certainly performing my duties this morning. And I went in to dinner with all my bright spirits of the morning very properly chastened out of me.

It was wicked and ungrateful of me; but, when Mr. Rayner said brightly, “Mrs. Manners wanted you to go and help her to prepare for the afternoon’s festivities, Miss Christie; but we were not going to let you fag yourself out laying tables for a lot of dirty children, so I said you should come later,” I felt for the moment as if I quite disliked him, though it was really only another proof of his kindness and care of me.

After dinner, he himself accompanied Haidee and me to the High Field, where the bazaar and tea took place; Mrs. Rayner was not coming until later. The school-children had been there some time when we reached the field; and some of the rank and fashion of the neighborhood, the quiet people who came as a duty, were making purchases in the marquees. I saw Laurence standing outside the larger but less showy one of the two; he looked very grave and gloomy, and did not come forward towards us immediately, as I had expected. Was he offended because I had not come earlier? Surely he must have known how much I wanted to do so! His elder sister, much to my surprise, came out to meet me.

“We have been waiting for you such a long time, Miss Christie,” she said; “we have kept a place for you.”

And, although she did not speak much more pleasantly than usual, I thought it good-natured of her, and wondered whether Laurence had spoken to her about me and she was trying to be kind to please him. I followed her into the marquee, which was arranged with one long stall down each side. At one, cheap toys, sweets, and very innocent refreshments were to be sold; the Sunday-school girls stood behind it, presided over by the housekeeper from the Hall. Down the other side was a stall loaded with the usual display of mats, dolls, crochet-shawls, and tatting antimacassars, with here and there a gypsy-table or cushion mounted with wool-work, and a host of useful trifles, which were expected to fetch far more than their intrinsic value.

But the custom of former years, when the sale had been chiefly for the village-people, was not forgotten; and one end was piled up with underclothing and children’s frocks and a quantity of cheap crockery and ironmongery, the contributions of Beaconsburgh tradesmen. At this, decidedly the least interesting corner of the whole bazaar, Miss Reade asked me if I would mind standing.

“We chose this part for you, because you said you would like to have plenty to do; and we know you are patient. And I assure you the old women from the village will give you lots of occupation; they always want to turn over everything in the place and buy what they require for nothing.”

I think I would rather have sold some pretty things too; but of course somebody must sell the ugly ones, and I really wanted to be useful; so I looked carefully over the things under my charge and examined the price-tickets, which I thought was a business-like way of going to work, when Laurence at last strolled in and came up to me. He shook hands with a loving pressure, but he only said—

“How do you do, Miss Christie? They expected you earlier.”

And I felt so much chilled by the commonplace words and the “Miss Christie” that I could scarcely answer. I had not expected him to say “Violet” before everybody, as he had done when we walked home on the previous night; but he need not have used my prim surname at all. But, as he stooped to push under the stall a box that was sticking out, he said, in a very low voice—

“I must speak to you presently. You must make some excuse to get away, and I’ll watch you and meet you. I have some bad news—at least, I don’t know whether you will think it bad news.”

His whisper got so gruff during those last words that I longed to kneel down on the ground by him and put my arms round his neck and tell him not to mind, whatever it was; but I could only say softly, as I bent over a bundle of night-caps—

“Of course I shall think it bad if you do.”

And he just glanced up with a look that made me hold my breath and almost forget where I was, and his lips touched my frock as he rose, and I knew that the bad news was still not so bad as it might be.

Just then there was a stir and excitement outside, caused by the arrival of Lady Mills and some of her party. They came into our marquee, and I thought I had never seen any one so beautiful or so winning as Lady Mills herself, with her pretty cream-colored gown covered with lace and bunches of pale roses in her hat and on her dress. The ladies with her were beautifully dressed too, and I saw at once that they were indeed, as Mrs. Manners had said, not the style of people Geldham was accustomed to. They made us all, sellers and buyers, look very dowdy and old-fashioned, and they talked and laughed a little louder than we dared do, and moved about as if they were used to being looked at and did not mind it. There were only two gentlemen with the six or eight ladies, and I heard Lady Mills say to Mrs. Manners that the rest of the men were coming on the drag, and that she had given them strict orders that after a certain time they were to buy up all that was left on the stalls. Mrs. Manners seemed rather distressed at that, and said she did not want the gentlemen to purchase things which would be of no use to them; they had some smoking-caps and embroidered cigar-cases. But Lady Mills laughed, and said Mrs. Manners was too merciful; and then she left our marquee and went to superintend the finishing touches put to the arrangement of her own.

Presently we heard that the drag had arrived, and there was a little flutter among the ladies at our stall. As for me, I knew that these gentlemen, who seemed to be thought of so much consequence, would not want any of the things I had to sell; so I went on quite quietly serving the village-women, with whom I was doing very good business. However, when the gentlemen did lounge in, one of them, who was tall and had a long fair mustache, looked for a long time at the things at my end of the stall and asked the price of a tea-kettle. I thought he was amusing himself; but he bought it and carried it off; and presently two more gentlemen came into the marquee and straight up to my corner, and bought, the one a gridiron and the other a soap-dish.

Then the first one came back and asked the price of so many things that he took too much of my attention from my village customers; and at last I told him he would find some ties and cigar-cases and gentlemen’s things farther up the stall. But he put up his eyeglass and looked at me gravely, and said he could not afford to spend his money on trumpery—he wanted something useful; and could I oblige him with a toasting-fork? Then he was so long making up his mind between a penny one and a sixpenny one that I told him he had better buy them both, and, when he had settled which he liked best, he could give the other away. But he said, “That is an extravagant way of going to work,” and took the penny one.

When he had gone away, Laurence came up again, and I told him, laughing, about the funny purchases they had made. But he was not at all amused; he said it was tomfoolery.

They came again, though, and some more of them too; and at last the first one of all returned a third time and said he had been entrusted with a sovereign to lay out to the best advantage for a young couple who were setting up housekeeping. I had done such good business with the village-women and these unexpected customers that I had not a sovereign’s-worth of ironmongery and crockery left; so he bought up all I had, including two pair of pattens and a number of mouse-traps, and made up the money in holland pinafores.

Presently he came in again with Lady Mills, who asked Mrs. Manners if she could spare her another helper; and, looking down the stall, and seeing me with only a few aprons and children’s clothes left to sell, she asked if the little lady in white at the end could come; and Mrs. Manners, looking at me rather gravely and anxiously, as if she was sending me into a lion’s den, asked me to go. But the other ladies at our stall did not like it at all.

The other marquee looked like fairy-land. The two stalls had so many beautiful bright things on them, besides a quantity of flowers, and the ladies behind them, in their light dresses, looked so pretty. The village-people did not buy much here, but came in shyly in twos and threes, and talked in whispers. But there were all Lady Mills’s party, and a lot of Beaconsburgh people, and members of most of the rich families in the neighborhood. And there was a great deal of laughing and talking going on; and this marquee was altogether a much more amusing place than the other.

Lady Mills, who I thought had sweeter manners than any lady I had ever seen, thrust a big basket of flowers into my hands and told me to walk up and down and ask people to buy them. “Ask the gentlemen,” she whispered, with a pretty smile. But I did not like to do that; so I stood with my basket in a corner until the tall fair man who had bought so many things of me came up and gave me half-a-crown for one little bud; and I thought how silly it had been of him to make such a fuss over the toasting-forks when he was ready to give so much for a flower. And then Laurence found me out, and he walked up and down with me, holding my big basket; and I sold my flowers quickly, and was very happy indeed, for Laurence talked and whispered to me, and looked at me all the time as we moved among the crowd, and never once left my side while we were in that tent. He told me everybody said I was the prettiest girl there, which of course was nonsense; but it was very nice to hear him say so. When I had sold all the flowers, he whispered—

“Now let us slip out, and we can talk.”

So we tucked my basket under one of the stalls, and went out of the tent and away into a lane near the field; and Laurence’s face grew very anxious and unhappy as I asked him what was the matter.

“I shall have to go away, Violet,” said he, looking at me very intently.

“Go away! Why—why?” said I, the tears rushing to my eyes. I had not expected anything so dreadful as that.

“My mother has decided—has been persuaded—that she must go away to the Riviera to escape the wet season we are threatened with, and I shall have to go with her.”

“But you will come back? You will soon come back, won’t you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what may happen while I am away. I don’t know what the plots and plans may be of the person who has caused me to be sent away.”

“What do you mean? What person, Laurence? Your mother—your sister?”

Laurence looked at me without answering, in the same searching intent way as before, for a minute or two; then he said—

“Listen, Violet. You are such an innocent little thing that I don’t know how to tell you what I must.”

I could not help looking rather frightened at this opening; and he stopped a little while to comfort me before he went on—

“Last night, when I had left you and got home, I found Mr. Rayner just leaving the Hall.”

Mr. Rayner! Then he must have gone on there from the Vicarage, and he must have come straight from the Hall when he passed me to go to his room, as I crouched in the shrubbery. Laurence continued—

“I went straight into the study to speak to my father. You know there is more sympathy between him and me than there is between any of the rest of us, so I went straight ahead and told him all about you, and what a sweet little thing you were; and I asked him to find me some occupation in an office, or on a farm or something, at once, for I must have a home to take you to before the year was out. And the dear old dad said you had a good sweet face, and he should like to have such a daughter; but what would the mater say? You know my mother rules him with a pretty tight hand; and he may say ‘Yes’ to anything when her back is turned, but he daren’t say ‘No’ to her to her face. And my mother has strong prejudices, and wants me to marry some one with money, ‘to improve our position in the county.’ And I told him I was twenty-four, and old enough to know my own mind, and I didn’t care what she wanted. But he begged me not to offend her, and then said, ‘She has just been in to tell me something that may have a bearing on the matter. It seems she has set her heart on going to the Riviera, and insists on your going with her. Now supposing I stock a farm for you while you are away, you can step into it directly you come back—I suppose she won’t want to be gone more than a couple of months—and you can try your hand at farming for a year or two, and keep it warm for Jack, who wants to take to it, he says. When you are living away from us, you will be more your own master, and your mother will have to submit to your marrying whom you like. So don’t say a word to her or to your sisters—you know they always side with her—till you come back.’ I didn’t much like this; but I could not say ‘No’ to my father—he has been so good to me—and I couldn’t refuse to go with my mother; nevertheless I was half mad all the same, for I know who has persuaded her to this.”

“Do you? Who?”

“Mr. Rayner. Haven’t you noticed how he has been steadily getting round my mother for the last few weeks, till he rules her as surely as she rules my father? I’ve watched him, and tried to put her on her guard; but I am no match for him. I wondered what he was doing it for; now I see.”

“But I don’t, Laurence. Why are you so prejudiced against Mr. Rayner—when he has been so kind to me too? What should he persuade her to go away for?”

Laurence looked at me earnestly.

“To get me away.”

“To get you away? Why should he do that?”

Laurence began to speak, but got very red, and stopped.

“He doesn’t like me, Violet, and he doesn’t want me to have you.”

“Oh, indeed you are mistaken, Laurence! He has often praised you.”

“Yes; that is his cunning. But I tell you he would stick at nothing to prevent my marrying you; and as long you are under his roof I shall never know a moment’s peace,” said he excitedly. “He is a bad man—”

“Oh, Laurence, you shouldn’t say that! I know him better than you do, and I know that he is goodness and kindness itself.”

“Violet, you are no wiser than a child. How can you see the way he treats his wife, and yet call him good?”

“His wife! Ah, I know all about that, but—I must not tell you. Indeed he is not cruel to her, as you think, Laurence. I know all about it; I do indeed.”

“Well, then, since I must say it, what do you think of the way he treats you? Doesn’t he show he cares for you more than for her? Can’t you see that he is making love to you?”

“Laurence!” cried I, aghast. “How dare you say such a thing? What have I done that you should think so ill of me as to think I would let a man who is married make love to me? How could you tell me you loved me, thinking that? I will never speak to you again.”

I turned sharply from him, and was back in the field among the people before he could stop me. Tea was being given to the children, and I went to help; but the enjoyment of the day was gone. In a dazed state I was still handing about cake, too miserable and excited to know quite what I was doing, when Lady Mills and Mr. and Mrs. Rayner came up to me. This lady, who had charmed me so much, had in return taken a fancy to me, and had begged Mr. and Mrs. Rayner to let me go home with her to stay until Monday; and they had consented. At another time this invitation would have made me half mad with delight, but now it seemed only to overwhelm me with terror at the thought of going among so many strangers. However, they sent me home to prepare what things I wanted, and told me to make haste.

As I was packing a muslin frock I had never yet worn, and wishing I had something handsomer for the occasion, I suddenly thought of the paste pendant Mr. Rayner had given me. That would look quite dazzling peeping out of the muslin and lace round my throat. So I packed that and a piece of black velvet to wear it on; and I was scarcely ready before Jane came up to say that Lady Mills’s carriage was at the gate waiting for me.

But just outside the hall door I met Laurence, with a rose in his hand.

“Violet, Violet, don’t go without a word to me! Here—throw away that rose and wear mine.”

“I will wear yours,” said I; “but I can’t throw away this one till it is dead. That would be ungrateful.”

“Did Mr. Rayner give it you?”

“Yes.”

He snatched out of my hand the rose I had just taken from him, and flung it away.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Christie, for my presumption in thinking you would accept mine after his. Good-evening.”

He strode off towards the plantation path, and he would not turn round when I called “Laurence, Laurence!” I could not stay to run after him, even if I had been able to overtake him; so, with tears in my eyes, I plunged into the flower-bed where his rose had fallen and picked it up, and put Mr. Rayner’s gently on the ground instead. It was an ungrateful thing to do; but I must do what Laurence wished, even if he did not know it.

And so with a very heavy heart I ran up the path to the carriage, and started on a visit which was to be strangely eventful to me.