Bluebell Part 53

"You'll get down to-morrow, I think, Miss Leigh. Uncle Bromley said to mamma, 'Where is your pretty governess, Lydia? Surely she is coming down to sing to us?' And Sir Robert muttered something about 'a beautiful syren,' and wanted to go up and fetch you."

Bluebell was more gratified by the first part of this speech; that silly Sir Robert would spoil everything.

Next day, according to Mabel's prognostications, the ban was removed, and Bluebell made free of the saloon in the evening, continuing, however, rigorously to retire when her pupils did. Somewhat to her discomposure, she found they had been chattering to Kate about Lord Bromley joining their morning walks. Miss Barrington had turned this little circ.u.mstance over in her mind rather curiously. Bluebell was apparently so wonderfully discreet with young men, it was strange she should go out early to flirt with an old one.

"Next time say you would rather walk in the Park, Mabel," said she.

And when the children rather confusedly acted on this advice, Bluebell, detecting Kate's hand in it, immediately a.s.sented, determined that no reluctance should be reported.

The day of the theatricals arrived, and with it a great reverse of fortune to Miss Barrington. She had driven early into the market-town in a small pony carriage for some essential no one but herself could choose.

Now, though a good rider, Kate was a remarkably careless whip; and rattling through the town, the ponies shied at something, or nothing, swerved into a cart, and upset the t.i.ttuppy little trap in a moment. The immediate result to the fair driver was a sprained ankle, contused face, and fast blackening eye. Any amount of pain she would have cheerfully endured sooner than give up her evening's excitement; but the unfortunate eye swelled, and got blacker and blacker, and nothing could be done. Her despair was communicated to the whole corps, till Mr. Barton suggested a subst.i.tute in Bluebell. It was carried _nem. con._, with the chilling consent of Mrs. Barrington, who, though she would not hear of Kate appearing thus disfigured, had tried in vain to persuade Lord Bromley to put off the play. But he maintained it was now "too late for postponement; Barton had said the girl could act; and Kate deserved the disappointment, for she had no business to have upset herself," etc. In the meantime Mr. Barton had carried off Bluebell for a severe rehearsal.

The play was "The Loan of a Lover," and as Peter Spyk he was interested in his Gertrude. Sir Robert also, as Captain Amesfort, threw considerably more animus into his scene since the change of heroines.

Bluebell had tea with her pupils as usual, and joined in the _dramatis persona_ in the green room at nine. The company was arriving. The front benches were soon filled with ladies, while the men stood about in the doorway, or looked over their heads.

Among the latter was Harry Dutton. He had come without notice, too late to join the party at dinner, and, thinking the whole thing rather a bore, scarcely glanced at the stage.

"Mynheer Swizel! Mynheer Swizel!" Dutton started as if he had been shot.

In a peasant's dress, and running on to the stage greeted by a round of applause, he recognises Bluebell! Here, at Bromley Towers!

Transfixed to the spot, his moonstruck gaze rivetted on the actors, people spoke to him, and he never heard. Conjecture, wonder, doubts of his own sanity, were whirling his brain. How did she get _here_, of all places in the world? With whom?--and under what name? Heavens, if she should suddenly perceive him, and stop short or scream! He moved behind a pillar, where he could observe unseen. Peter Spyk was singing:--

"To-morrow will be market-day, The streets all thronged with la.s.ses gay; And from a crowd so great, no doubt, Sweethearts enough I may pick out.

In verity, verity, verity aye," etc

And then Gertrude, in a mocking voice, coquettishly sang,--

"Be not too bold, for hearts fresh caught, Are ne'er, I am told, to market brought The best, they say, are _given_ away, And are not _sold_, on market-day.

In verity, verity, verity aye," etc

A round of applause and an encore followed. It was long since Harry had heard Bluebell's voice, but he alone did not applaud. The play proceeded, and then Sir Robert came in as Amesfort. It hung a little here. He floundered, gagged, forgot the cue, and the voice of the prompter became distinctly audible. Happily, conceit bore him along. Harry winced as he drawled to Gertrude, "Why, you are very pretty!" But when he proceeded to catch her round the waist and offered to kiss her, he mattered an oath, and half-started forward. Warned by a look of curiosity in a bystander, Dutton fiercely controlled himself, but a burning desire to quarrel with Sir Robert took possession of him.

In the last scene, when she comes on as a bride, Harry remembered, with a curious laugh, she had never been so attired for him. Bluebell was warming to her part. She and Peter Spyk were pulling the whole coach, and when the play was ended they were both loudly called for before the curtains.

Happy and delighted at her success, it was hard to fall from triumph to insignificance; but, in the first flush of the former, Bluebell was left in solitude. Her fellow actors had flown away to exchange their theatrical costume for ball dress, and she had received no _carte blanche_ to mingle with the dancers.

Lingering listlessly alone in the greenroom, wishing to join the rest, and hoping some one might think of sending for her, she had thrown herself into an easy-chair, back to the door, which was half-open. There was a slight sound of a rapid, stealthy footstep, and, before she had time to look round, a twisted note was tossed into her lap.

Bluebell started to her feet. Her heart gave one great jump, and her cheeks were blanched.

She rushed to the door. Too late,--the pa.s.sage was empty. After reading the note, she walked backwards and forwards, in an incoherent state of excitement, pondering its contents, and was returning to the deserted school-room, when she was met and stopped by Lord Bromley.

"Not dressed yet!" he exclaimed. "Or is Gertrude going to dance in this pretty bridal array?"

"This dress is Miss Barrington's. Good-night, Lord Bromley," said Bluebell, trying to pa.s.s.

"What! you poor child, are you sent to bed? Come along with me. I'll make it right with Mrs. Barrington."

"I cannot, indeed. I am ill--I am tired," said Bluebell, desperately.

Lord Bromley's eyes were fixed inquiringly upon her; but people were coming along the pa.s.sage, and, escaping from him, she darted off.

No one was in the nursery. Bluebell hastily changed her dress, wrapped herself in a dark cloak, and drew the hood over her head; then, descending the staircase, listened a moment at the foot. No one seemed about. She flew down a dark pa.s.sage into the billiard-room, threw open the French window, and stepped out. It was as dark as a summer's night ever is, and a soft shower was falling; but Bluebell took no heed.

Avoiding the front of the house, she threaded her way by the back settlements. A dog barked, and a poaching cat was marauding about. The gra.s.s felt damp and clinging as she struck into what was called "The West Drive." It was not kept exactly in lawn order there. A hundred yards further on was a summer-house, thatched inside and out with moss, from which, long ere she reached it, Harry Dutton emerged, and, folding her in his arms, drew her within its shelter.

In the meantime, the ball was in full swing; every now and then inquiries were made for the missing heir. "Did not Mr. Dutton come to-night? I wonder what has become of him!" Lord Bromley wondered too; but, before he had time to be really offended at his absence. Mr. Dutton was observed valsing with Lady Geraldine. The young sailor was no whit less interesting for his Crimean campaign, to which his wound lent an additional _prestige_; and it was astonishing what severe remarks were made on the unloveliness of the partner with whom he most frequently danced that night.

And yet such criticism was more undeserved than usual, for a look of gentle happiness softened and inspired her naturally plain features, and lent an unwonted tender grace to a somewhat inexpressive figure.

Lord Bromley did not observe their frequent contiguity with the same satisfaction as of yore. On the contrary, his eye rested on Harry with a somewhat sarcastic expression, and he remained thoughtful and _distrait_.

CHAPTER XL.

THE MINIATURE.

True, I have married her.

The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more.

--Shakespeare.

Lord Bromley did not suffer the nocturnal festivities to interfere with his morning walk, during which he came upon the governess and her pupils looking as fresh as the dawn.

"I need not ask if you have recovered from last night, Miss Leigh,"

observed he, dryly, as he bowed demurely, with a somewhat conscious air.

"Did you dance?" asked Mabel; "for I heard you come up just after the stable clock struck one, and the music had been going on for ever so long."

Now, it might have been half-past eleven when Miss Leigh had professed herself to Lord Bromley as too ill and tired to dream of dancing. Looking the consternation she felt at this contradictory piece of evidence, she remained silent, not daring to raise her eyes.

"Who would have taken you for such an actress!" said the peer, in rather ambiguous accents.

Bluebell looked up desperately; her expression was ingenuous, but half imploring.

"Such nerve and command of countenance!" rhapsodized his Lordship, with the same odd fixed look and sarcastic inflection of voice. "The idea of the plot so perfectly conceived and played out! Had you much practice--in Canada."

"I have played in charades and small pieces," wondering how he knew she had been in Canada.

"But you never _really_ acted till you came to England? How long was that ago?"

"Some time now," confusedly.

"Nearly two years, perhaps?"

"About that--no, not quite so much," more and more perplexed by his manner.

"I hope you'll come down, and sing to us to-night. Miss Leigh. I am not sure I don't prefer that accomplishment for young ladies--it is _safer_."