Betty Vivian Part 42

I have an aunt who lives there, Aunt Amelia Crawford; and she generally allows me--that is, when father cannot have me--to bring one of my school-friends with me to stay in her lovely house. I had a letter from her only yesterday, asking me which girl I would like to bring with me this year. I thought of Olive--Olive is such fun; but I'd just as soon have you--that is, if you would like to come."

Alas for poor Sibyl! She was not proof against such a tempting bait.

"As far as you are concerned," continued f.a.n.n.y, who saw that she was making way with Sibyl, and breaking down, as she expressed it, her silly little defences, "you would gain far more prestige in being Aunt Amelia's guest than if you belonged to twenty Speciality Clubs. Aunt Amelia is good to the girls who come to stay with her as my friends. And I'd help you, Sib; I'd make the best of your dresses. We'd go to the theatre, and the pantomime, and all kinds of jolly things. We'd have a rattling fine time."

"Do you really mean it?" said Sibyl.

"Yes--that is, if you will give me your solemn word that you will refer no more to that silly matter about Betty Vivian. Betty Vivian had no right to that packet. It belonged to my father, and I have got it back for him. Don't think of it any more, Sibyl, and you shall be my guest this Christmas. But if you prefer to make a fuss, and drag me into an unpleasant position, and get yourself, in all probability, expelled from the school, then you must do as you please."

"But if I were expelled, you'd be expelled too," said Sibyl.

f.a.n.n.y laughed. "I think not," she said. "I think, without any undue pride, that my position in the school is sufficiently strong to prevent such a catastrophe. No; you would be cutting off your nose to spite your face--that is all you would be doing with this nice little scheme of yours. Give it up, Sibyl, and you shall come to Brighton."

"It is dull at home at Christmas," said Sibyl. "We are so dreadfully poor, and father has such a lot to do; and there are always those half-starved, smelly sort of people coming to the house--the sort that want coal-tickets, you know, and grocery-tickets; and--and--we have to help to give great big Christmas dinners. We are all day long getting up entertainments for those dull sort of people. I often think they are not a bit grateful, and after being at a school like this I really feel quite squeamish about them."

f.a.n.n.y laughed. She saw, or believed she saw, that her cause was won.

"You'll have nothing to make you squeamish at Aunt Amelia's," she said.

"And now I must say good-night. Sorry about the Specialities; but, after the little exhibition you have just made of yourself, I agree with the other girls that you are not fit to be a member. Now, ta-ta for the present."

CHAPTER XIX

"IT'S d.i.c.kIE!"

f.a.n.n.y went straight to her own room. "What a nasty time I have lived through!" she thought as she was about to enter. Then she opened the door and started back.

The whole room had undergone a metamorphosis. There was a shaded light in one corner, and the door between f.a.n.n.y's room and Betty's was thrown open. A grave, kind-looking nurse was seated by a table, on which was a shaded lamp; and on seeing f.a.n.n.y enter she held up her hand with a warning gesture. The next minute she had beckoned the girl out on the landing.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked f.a.n.n.y. "What are you doing in my room?"

"The doctor wished the door to be opened and the room to be given up to me," replied the nurse. "My name is Sister Helen, and I am looking after dear little Miss Vivian. We couldn't find you to tell you about the necessary alterations, which were made in a hurry. Ah, I mustn't leave my patient! I hear her calling out again. She is terribly troubled about something she has lost. Do you hear her?"

"I won't give it up! I won't give it up!" called poor Betty's voice.

"I was asked to tell you," said Sister Helen, "to go straight to Miss Symes, who has arranged another room for you to sleep in--that is, if you _are_ Miss Crawford."

"Yes, that is my name. Have my things been removed?"

"I suppose so, but I don't know. I am going back to my patient."

The nurse re-entered the room, closing the door on f.a.n.n.y, who stood by herself in the corridor. She heard Betty's voice, and Betty's voice sounded so high and piercing and full of pain that her first feeling was one of intense thankfulness that she had been moved from close proximity to the girl. The next minute she was speeding down the corridor in the direction of Miss Symes's room. Half-way there she met St. Cecilia coming to meet her.

"Ah, f.a.n.n.y, dear," said Miss Symes, "I thought your little meeting would have been over by now. Do you greatly mind sharing my room with me to-night? I cannot get another ready for you in time. Dr. Ashley wishes the nurse who is looking after Betty to have your room for the present.

There was no time to tell you, dear; but I have collected the few things I think you will want till the morning. To-morrow we will arrange another room for you. In the meantime I hope you will put up with me. I have had a bed put into a corner of my room and a screen around it, so you will be quite comfortable."

"Thank you," said f.a.n.n.y. She wondered what further unpleasantness was about to happen to her on that inauspicious night.

"You would like to go to bed, dear, wouldn't you?" said Miss Symes.

"Yes, thank you."

"Well, you shall do so. I cannot go for a couple of hours, as Mrs. Haddo wants me to sit up with her until the specialist arrives from London."

"The specialist from London!" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y, turning first red and then white. "Do you mean that Mrs. Haddo has sent for a London doctor?"

"Indeed she has. My dear, poor little Betty is dangerously ill. Dr.

Ashley is by no means satisfied about her."

By this time the two had reached Miss Symes's beautiful room. f.a.n.n.y gave a quick sigh. Then, like a flash, a horrible thought occurred to her.

Her room had to be given up to-morrow. Her things would be removed.

Among her possessions--put safely away, it is true, but still not _too_ safely--was the little sealed packet. If that packet were found, f.a.n.n.y felt that the world would be at an end as far as she was concerned.

"You don't look well yourself, f.a.n.n.y," said Miss Symes, glancing kindly at the girl. "Of course you are sorry about Betty; we are all sorry, for we all love her. If you had been at prayers to-night you would have been astonished at the gloom which was felt in our beautiful little chapel when Mr. Fairfax prayed for her."

"But she can't be as ill as all that?" said f.a.n.n.y.

"She is--very, very ill, dear. The child has evidently got a bad chill, together with a most severe mental shock. We none of us can make out what is the matter; but it is highly probable that the specialist--Dr.

Jephson of Harley Street--will insist on the Specialities being questioned as to the reason why Betty was expelled from the club. It is absolutely essential that the girl's mind should be relieved, and that as soon as possible. She is under the influence now of a composing draught, and, we greatly trust, may be more like herself in the morning.

Don't look too sad, dear f.a.n.n.y! I can quite understand that you must feel this very deeply, for Betty is your cousin; and somehow, dear--forgive me for saying it--but you do not act quite the cousin's part to that poor, sweet child. Now I must leave you. Go to bed, dear.

Pray for Betty, and then sleep all you can."

"Where are the twins?" suddenly asked f.a.n.n.y.

"They are sleeping to-night in the lower school. It was necessary to put the poor darlings as far from Betty as possible, for they are in a fearful state about her. Now I will leave you, f.a.n.n.y. I am wanted elsewhere. When I do come to bed I will be as quiet as possible, so as not to disturb you."

f.a.n.n.y made no answer, and the next minute Miss Symes had left her.

f.a.n.n.y now went over to the corner of the room where a snug little white bed had been put up, a washhand-stand was placed and where a small chest of drawers stood--empty at present, for only a few of f.a.n.n.y's things had been taken out of her own room. The girl looked round her in a bewildered way. The packet!--the sealed packet! To-morrow all her possessions would be removed into a room which would be got ready for her. There were always one or two rooms to spare at Haddo Court, and f.a.n.n.y would be given a room to herself again. She was far too important a member of that little community not to have the best possible done for her. Deft and skillful servants would take her things out of the various drawers and move them to another room. They would find the packet. f.a.n.n.y knew quite well where she had placed it. She had put it under a pile of linen which she herself took charge of, and which was always kept in the bottom drawer of her wardrobe. f.a.n.n.y had put the packet there in a moment of excitement and hurry. She had not yet decided what to do with it; she had to make a plan in her own mind, and in the meantime it was safe enough among f.a.n.n.y's various and pretty articles of toilet. For it was one of the rules of Haddo Court that each girl, be she rich or poor, should take care of her own underclothing. All that the servants had to do was to see that the things were properly aired; but the girls had to mend their own clothes and keep them tidy.

Absolute horror filled f.a.n.n.y's mind now. What was she to do? She was so bewildered that for a time she could scarcely think coherently. Then she made up her mind that, come what would, she must get that packet out of her own bedroom before the servants came in on the following day. She was so absorbed with the thought of her own danger that she had no time to think of the very grave danger which a.s.sailed poor little Betty Vivian. If she had disliked Betty before, she hated her now. Oh, how right she had been when, in her heart of hearts, she had opposed Betty's entrance into the school! What trouble those three tiresome, wild, uncontrollable girls had brought in their wake! And now Betty--Betty, who was so adored--Betty, who, in f.a.n.n.y's opinion, was both a thief and a liar--was dangerously ill; and she (f.a.n.n.y) would in all probability have to appear in a most sorry position. For, whatever Betty's sin, f.a.n.n.y knew well that nothing could excuse her own conduct. She had spied on Betty; she had employed Sibyl Ray as a tool; she had got Sibyl to take the packet from under the piece of heather; and that very night she had excited the astonishment of her companions in the Speciality Club by proposing a ridiculously unsuitable person for membership as poor Sibyl.

"Things look as black as night," thought f.a.n.n.y to herself. "I don't want to go to bed. I wish I could get out of this. How odious things are!"

Just then she heard footsteps outside her door--footsteps that came up close and waited. Then, all of a sudden, the door was flung violently open, and Sylvia and Hester entered. They had been crying so hard that their poor little faces were disfigured almost beyond recognition.

Sylvia held a small tin box in her hand.

"What are you doing, girls? You had better go to bed," said f.a.n.n.y.

Neither girl took the slightest notice of this injunction. They looked round the room, noting the position of the different articles of furniture. Then Sylvia walked straight up to the screen behind which f.a.n.n.y's bed was placed. With a sudden movement she pulled down the bedclothes, opened the little tin box, and put something into f.a.n.n.y's bed.

"It's d.i.c.kie!" said Sylvia. "I hope you will like his company. Come, Hetty."

Before f.a.n.n.y could find words the girls had vanished. But the look of hatred on Sylvia's face, the look of defiance and horror on Hetty's, f.a.n.n.y was not likely to forget. They shut the door somewhat noisily behind them. Then, all of a sudden, Hetty opened it again, pushed in her small face, and said, "You had better be careful. His bite is dangerous!"

The next instant quick feet were heard running away from Miss Symes's room, in the center of which f.a.n.n.y stood stunned and really frightened.

What had those awful children put into her bed? She had heard vague rumors of a pet of theirs called d.i.c.kie, but had never been interested enough even to inquire about him. Who was d.i.c.kie? What was d.i.c.kie? Why was his bite dangerous? Why was he put into her bed? f.a.n.n.y, for all her careful training, for all her airs and graces, was by no means remarkable for physical courage. She approached the bed once or twice, and went back again. She was really afraid to pull down the bedclothes.