Antony Gray-Gardener Part 30

"He's relieved," declared the d.u.c.h.essa inwardly, and somewhat astounded.

"He's so amazingly diffident, and yet so utterly in love, he's relieved."

Of course she was right, she knew perfectly well she was right. Well, perhaps courage would grow with Trix's absence. For his own sake it was to be devoutly trusted that it would.

Doctor Hilary took his tobacco pouch from his pocket, and with it a small piece of paper. He looked at the paper.

"The name of a new rose," he said. "Michael Field, the new under-gardener at the Hall, gave it to me. He tells me it is a very free flowerer, and has a lovely scent. Do you care to have the name, d.u.c.h.essa?" He held the slip of paper towards her.

The d.u.c.h.essa looked carelessly at it. Trix was looking at the d.u.c.h.essa.

"No, thank you," she replied. "We have plenty of roses here, and Thornby can no doubt give me the name of any new kinds I shall want."

Now it was not merely an entirely unnecessary refusal, but the tone of the speech was nearly, if not quite, deliberately rude. It was a terribly big p.r.i.c.kle, and showed itself perfectly distinctly. There wasn't even the smallest semblance of disguise about it.

Doctor Hilary put the paper and his tobacco pouch back into his pocket.

"I must be off," he said in an oddly quiet voice. "I've one or two other calls to make."

Miss Tibb.u.t.t walked towards the house with him,--to fetch some more knitting, so she announced. Trix suspected a little mental stroking.

"What's the matter, Pia?" asked Trix calmly, leaning back in her chair.

"The matter?" said Pia, the faintest suspicion of a flush in her cheeks.

"You were very--very _snubbing_ to Doctor Hilary," announced Trix, still calmly. Inwardly she was not so calm. In fact, her heart was thumping quite loudly.

"My dear Trix," replied the d.u.c.h.essa coldly, "I have an excellent gardener. I do not care for recommendations emanating from a complete stranger."

"There was no smallest need to snub Doctor Hilary, though," said Trix quietly. The queer surprise on his face had caused a little stab at her heart.

The d.u.c.h.essa made no reply.

"Pia, what _is_ the matter?" asked Trix again.

"I have told you, nothing," responded the d.u.c.h.essa.

Trix shook her head. "Yes; there is. You're unhappy. You've been--you can tell me to mind my own business, if you like--you've been horribly p.r.i.c.kly lately. You've tried to hurt my feelings, and Tibby's, and now you've tried to hurt Doctor Hilary's. And he didn't deserve it in the least, but he thought, for a moment, he did. And it isn't like you, Pia.

It isn't one bit. Do tell me what's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Pia again.

"Darling, that's a--a white lie at all events."

Pia coloured. "Anyhow it's not worth talking about," she said.

"Are you sure it isn't?" urged Trix. "Couldn't I help the weeniest bit?"

The d.u.c.h.essa shook her head.

"Darling," said Trix again, and she slipped her arm through Pia's.

"I'm all one big bruise," said Pia suddenly.

Trix stroked her hand.

"It is entirely foolish of me to care," said the d.u.c.h.essa slowly. "But I happen to have trusted someone rather implicitly. I never dreamed it possible the person could stoop to act a lie. I would not have minded the thing itself,--it would have been absurd for me to have done so. But it hurt rather considerably that the person should have deceived me in the matter, in fact have acted a deliberate lie about it. I am honestly doing my best to forget the whole thing, but I am being constantly reminded of it."

Trix sat up very straight. So that was it, she told herself. How idiotic of her not to have guessed at once,--days ago, that is,--when she herself had made her marvellous discovery. It was now quite plain to her mind that Pia must have made it too. It was Doctor Hilary whom she believed to be the fraud, the friend whom she had trusted, and who had acted a lie.

The whole oddness of Pia's behaviour became suddenly perfectly clear to her. Tibby had told her that it had begun on her return to Woodleigh.

Well, that must have been when she first found out. How she'd found out, Trix didn't know. But that was beside the mark. She evidently had found out.

Trix's mind ran back over various little incidents. She remembered the snub administered to Father Dormer the evening after her arrival. The new under-gardener had been the subject of conversation then, of course reminding Pia of the Hall. And she had snubbed Father Dormer, as she had snubbed Doctor Hilary a few minutes ago. All Pia's snubs and sudden p.r.i.c.kles came back to her mind. They all had their origin in some inadvertent remark regarding the Hall.

Yes; everything was as clear as daylight now. Pia had learnt of this business in some roundabout way that did not allow of her speaking openly to Doctor Hilary on the subject, so she saw merely the fraud, and had no idea that it was, in all probability, an entirely justifiable one, and that at all events no one had told any deliberate lie. Of course Pia was disturbed and upset. Wouldn't she have been herself, in Pia's place? And hadn't she felt quite unreasonably unhappy till Mr. Danver had a.s.sured her that Doctor Hilary had not spoken a single word of actual untruth?

Oh, poor Pia!

Now, it was not in the least astonishing that Trix's mind should have leapt to this entirely erroneous conclusion. For the last fortnight it had been full of her discovery. The smallest thing that seemed to bear on it, instantly appeared actually to do so. And everything in her present train of thought fitted in with astonishing accuracy. Each little incident in Pia's late behaviour fell into place with it.

She did not stop to consider that, if this were the sole cause of Pia's trouble, she--Pia--was unquestionably taking a very exaggerated view of it. It never occurred to Trix to do so. If she had considered the matter at all, it would have been merely to realize that Pia's att.i.tude towards it was remarkably like what her own would have been. She would have known, had she attempted a.n.a.lysis of the subject, that she herself was frequently troubled about trifles, or what at any rate would have appeared to others as trifles, where any friend of hers was concerned.

Her friends' actions and her own, in what are ordinarily termed little things, mattered quite supremely to her, most particularly in any question regarding honour. The smallest infringement of it would be enough to cause her sleepless nights and anxious days. Therefore, without attempting any a.n.a.lysis, she could perfectly well understand what she believed Pia's point of view to be. And her present distress was, that, in view of her promise, she could do nothing definite to help her.

She could not show her Doctor Hilary's standpoint in the matter, since it was not permissible for her to give the smallest hint that she was acquainted either with it, or with the whole business at all. She could not even hint that she believed Doctor Hilary to be the person concerning whom Pia was troubled. She could only take refuge in generalities, which, with a definite case before her, she felt to be a peculiarly unsatisfactory proceeding. Yet there was nothing else to be done. It was more than probable that Pia was in the same kind of cleft stick as herself, and that therefore direct discussion of the matter was out of the question.

Still stroking Pia's hand, Trix spoke slowly.

"Pia, darling, what I am going to say will sound very poor comfort, I know. But it's this. Isn't it just possible that you could give the--the person concerned the benefit of a doubt? Even if it seems to you that he has acted a lie, and therefore been something of a fraud, mayn't there be some extraordinarily good reason, behind it all, that circ.u.mstances are preventing him from explaining? Such queer things do happen, and sometimes people have to appear to others as frauds, when they really aren't a bit. If you were ever really friends with the person--and you must have been, or you wouldn't care--I'd just say to myself that I would trust him in spite of every appearance to the contrary. Perhaps some day you'll be most awfully sorry if you don't. And isn't it a million times better to be even mistaken in trust where a friend is concerned, than give way to the smallest doubt which may afterwards be proved to be a wrong doubt?"

Pia was silent. Then she said in an oddly even voice,

"Trix do you _know_ anything?"

Trix flushed to the roots of her hair. Pia turned to look at her.

"Trix!" she said amazed.

"Pia," implored Trix, "you mustn't ask me a single question, because I can't answer you. But do, do, trust."

Pia drew a long breath.

"Trix, you're the uncanniest little mortal that ever lived, and I can't imagine how you could have guessed, or what exactly it is you really do know. But I believe I am going to take your advice."

CHAPTER XXVI

AN OFFER AND A REFUSAL