More About Peggy Part 18

"Help you!" echoed Peggy blankly. She was alternately amazed and embarra.s.sed by the manner in which Rosalind leant upon her in every difficulty; but now, as ever, the spell of the winsome presence proved irresistibly softening, and it was in a far gentler tone that she continued. "If everything is settled, in what way do you want my help, Rosalind?"

Rosalind sat down upon the sofa, still retaining her grip of her friend's hand, and drawing her down on the seat by her own. She stared aimlessly up and down the room, opening her lips as if about to speak, and closing them again in despair of expressing her thoughts, until suddenly the words came out in a breathless rush.

"I pwomised to marry him, and I mean to keep my word, but it is harder than I thought. It would be easier if he were diffewent, but he loves me so much, and believes in me, and thinks I must care for him too. If he knew I had taken him for his position, he would despise me, and I don't want him to do that. I have given up so much, and if he turned against me too, what should I have left? It fwightens me to think of it, and I came away to consider what I had better do, and to talk to you and ask your advice." She looked at Peggy appealingly, and added in a breathless whisper, "I want to do what is right, you know! I want to treat him well! You think I am selfish and worldly, Peggy, but I am not all bad. If I mawwy him, I will do my best. I want him to be fond of me, not to grow tired or dissatisfied. That would make me wetched."

Peggy smiled pitifully. It was so like Rosalind to be distressed at the idea of losing a love she could not return, and to show a pathetic eagerness to make a wrong step right. Her own Spartan judgment could never overlook the sin of preferring money before love, but she realised that it was too late in the day to preach this doctrine, and cast about in her mind for more practical advice.

"If you try to make him happy, that will be your best plan, Rosalind.

If I were in your place, I'd try to forget about the past, and think only of the future. I'd find out the very best in him, and be proud of it, and study his tastes, so that I might be able to talk about the things he liked best, and be a real companion to him, and I'd be grateful to him for his love, and try to love him in return. Every one says he is a good fellow and devoted to you, so it ought not to be difficult."

"No-o!" echoed Rosalind doubtfully. "Only if you are going to love people, you genewally do it without twying, and if you don't love them, little things aggwavate you, and rub you the wong way, which you would never notice in people you really cared for! Everscourt is a good fellow, but he worries me to distwaction sometimes, and I am so afraid of getting cwoss. I don't want him to think me bad-tempered. I think your plan is very good, Peggy, and I will try to follow it. I ought to succeed, for you see how anxious I am to do what is right! You can't call me selfish this time, can you, for I am thinking only of his happiness!"

Peggy lifted her brows with arch reproach. "Oh, Rosalind, no! You think you are, but you are really distressed about your own position, in case he may ever think you any less charming and angelic than he does at this moment. It's your own vanity that concerns you, far more than his happiness."

"You have no business to say anything of the kind. If he is disappointed in me, won't that make him miserable, and if I twy to please him, is not that making him happy in the best way possible? But you always think the worst of me, Peggy Saville, and put a wong constwuction on what I do. When I pay you the compliment of coming to you for help, I do think you might be a little kinder and more sympathetic."

"It would be easier to say a lot of polite things that I didn't wean.

It is the best proof that I do care for your happiness that I have the courage to be disagreeable. You know, Rosalind, the plain truth is that you want to act a part to gain admiration and applause, but it's absurd to think you can go on doing that all your life, and to a person who is with you on every occasion. It must be _real_, not pretence, if it is to succeed, so try not to think so much about his opinion of you, and more about how you can help him, and be the sort of wife he wants. And if he worries you in any little way, tell him so quietly, and don't let it get into a habit. I'm talking as if I were seventy-seven at the very least, and had been married a dozen times over, but you know how easy it is to preach to other people and how clearly one can see their duty! As a matter of fact, I know nothing whatever about it, but one can argue with so much more freedom when one is not hampered with facts! I am sorry if I have seemed unkind, but--"

"No, no! I know what you mean. I think you are vewy kind to me, Peggy, considering--considering everything!" murmured Rosalind softly. She sat silent for a moment, gathering courage to ask another question which was fluttering to her lips.

"Will--will--do you think Arthur will be _vewy_ miserable?"

Peggy's little form stiffened at that into a poker of wounded dignity.

She felt it in the worst possible taste of Rosalind to have introduced her brother's name into the conversation, and was in arms at once at the tone of commiseration.

"My brother and I had a talk on the subject when I was in town," she replied coldly, "and he entirely agreed with me that it was the best thing for you. He will be in no wise surprised, but only relieved that the arrangement is completed. He is very well and in good spirits, and is coming down next week with Eunice Rollo to pay us a visit, when we have planned a succession of amus.e.m.e.nts."

"Oh," remarked Rosalind shortly. "Is he, indeed!" She tried to say she was rejoiced to hear it, but her lips refused to form the lie, for Peggy's words had been so many daggers in her heart. Arthur would be "relieved," he was in "good spirits," he was coming down to enjoy himself in the country in company with. Eunice Rollo! Could anything be more wounding to the vanity which made her treasure the idea of broken-hearted grief? Once more Rosalind called Peggy cruel in her heart, and Peggy mentally justified her harshness by reminding herself that the knowledge of Arthur's fort.i.tude would do more towards turning Rosalind's heart toward her _fiance_ than a volume of moral reflections.

Some slave to worship and adore, she _must_ possess, and if she could no longer think of Arthur in that position, so much the more chance that she would appreciate his successor. No more was said on the subject, and in a few minutes Rosalind rose to say good-bye and take her way to the vicarage.

"For I must congwatulate Esther!" she said, laughing.

"That is to say, if I can contwive to do it without laughing outwight.

It is _too_ widiculous to think of Esther being mawwied! She is a born old maid, and I hear he is quite old, nearly forty, with grey hair and spectacles and a stoop to his back. He teaches, doesn't he, or lectures or something, and I suppose he is as poor as a church mouse. What in the world induced the silly girl to accept him?"

"Look in her face and see!" said Peggy shortly. "And don't waste your pity, Rosalind, for it is not required. Professor Reid is as big a man in his own way as Lord Everscourt himself; and from a worldly point of view Esther is making a good match. That, however, is not what her face will tell you. They are going to be married in October, and Mellicent and I are to be bridesmaids."

"And drive to church in a village fly, and come back to a scwamble meal in the dining-woom! Pwesents laid out on the schoolwoom table, and all the pawishioners cwowding together in the dwawingwoom. I can't just imagine a vicarage marriage, and how you have the courage to face it, Mawiquita, I weally can't think!" cried Rosalind, in her most society drawl. "You must be _my_ bwidesmaid, dear, and I'll pwomise you a charming gown and a real good time into the bargain. I'm determined it shall be the smartest affair of the season!"

Peggy murmured a few non-committal words, and Rosalind floated away, restored to complacency by the contrast between the prospect of her own wedding and that of poor old Esther. They would indeed be different occasions; and so thought Peggy also, as she stood watching her friend depart, contrasting her lovely restless face with Esther's radiant calm, and the gloomy town residence of Lord Darcy with the breezy country vicarage.

The next morning at breakfast Colonel Saville discussed the coming weddings from an outsider's point of view.

"Two presents!" he groaned. "That's what it means to me, and pretty good ones too, I suppose, for everything has grown to such a pitch of extravagance in these days that one is expected to come down handsomely.

When we were married we thought ourselves rich with twenty or thirty offerings, but now they are reckoned by hundreds, and the happy recipients have to employ detectives to guard their treasures. Esther, I suppose, will be content with a piece of silver, but we shall have to launch out for once, and give Miss Darcy something worthy of her position."

"I think, dear, if we launch out at all it must be for Esther, not Rosalind. If I had my way, I should give some pretty trifle to Rosalind, who will be overdone with presents, and spend all we can spare on something really handsome for Esther," said his wife gently; and Peggy cried, "Hear! Hear!" and banged such uproarious applause with her heels that the colonel felt himself hopelessly out-voted.

"If you had your way, indeed!" he grumbled, pushing his chair back from the table and preparing to leave the room. "When do you _not_ get your way, I'd like to know? It's a case of serving two masters with a vengeance, when a man has a wife and a grown-up daughter! Settle it to please yourselves, and don't take any notice of me. I'm going out shooting, and won't be home until tea-time, so you will have plenty of time to talk it over in peace and quietness!"

Peggy ran after him with a little skip, slipped her hand through his arm, and rubbed her face coaxingly against the shoulder of his rough tweed suit.

"He is just a down-trodden old dear, isn't he? So mild and obedient--a perfectly nonent.i.ty in his own house! No one trembles before him! He never lays down the law as if he were the Tsar of All the Russias, or twenty German Emperors rolled into one! Now does that really mean that you are to be out for lunch? I'm housekeeper, you know, and it makes a difference to my arrangement. You won't say you are going to be out, then appear suddenly at the last moment?"

"Not I! I shall be miles away, and cannot spare the time to come so far; but for that matter I cannot see why it should make any difference.

One person more or less can be of no importance."

"He is though, very much indeed, when it happens to be the head of the family!" remarked Peggy sagely to her mother when they were left alone, "because I don't mind confessing to you, dear, that, owing to the agitation consequent on my interview with the fair Rosalind, I entirely omitted to post my order for the butcher! If father had been at home, I should have been compelled to drive over in the heat and dust; but as it is, I can send a card by the early post, and the things will be here for dinner. You don't object, I know, for you have a mind above trifles, and I can provide quite a nice little meal for two."

"Oh, I don't mind for myself, but do be careful to send your orders regularly, darling!" pleaded her mother earnestly. "We are so entirely in the country that a day might come when you were not able to get supplies at the last moment, and _then_ what would you do? Imagine how awkward it might be!"

"I'd rather not, if you don't mind! It would be quite bad enough if it really happened. We won't antic.i.p.ate evil, but have a lazy morning together in the garden, browsing in deck-chairs, and eating fruit at frequent intervals. It is so lovely to sit under one's own trees, in one's own garden, with one's very own mummie by one's side. Girls who have lived in England all their lives can never appreciate having home and parents at the same time, in the same way in which I do. It seems almost too good to be true, to be really settled down together!"

"Oh, thank G.o.d, we never were really separated, Peg! One of the heart- breaking things of a life abroad is that parents and children so often grow up practical strangers to each other; but you and I were always together at heart, and your dear letters were so transparent that I seemed to read all that was in your mind. It was partly Mrs Asplin's doing too--dear good woman, for she gave you the care and mothering which you needed to develop your character, yet never tried to take my place. Yes, indeed, we must do all we can for Esther! Find out what she would like, dear, and we will go to town together and buy the best of its kind. I can never do enough for Mrs Asplin's children."

There was so much to talk about, so much to discuss, that when lunch- time approached both mother and daughter were surprised to find how quickly the morning had pa.s.sed. It was so cool and breezy sitting under the shade of the trees that they were both unwilling to return to the house, and at Peggy's suggestion orders were given that lunch should be served where they sat.

"It will do me more credit; for what would appear a paltry provision spread out on the big dining-room table, will look quite sylvan and luxurious against this flowery background," she said brightly, and in the very moment of speaking her jaw dropped, and her eyes grew blank and fixed, as if beholding a vision too terrible to be real.

Round the corner or the house, one--two--three masculine forms were coming into view; three men in Norfolk jackets, shooting breeches and deer-stalker caps; dusty and dishevelled, yet with that indefinable air of relaxation which spoke of rest well-earned. They were no chance visitors, they had come to stay, to stay to be fed! Every confident step proved as much, every smile of a.s.sured welcome. Peggy's groan of despair aroused her mother's attention, she turned and gave an echoing exclamation.

"Your father! Back after all--and two men with him. Mr Cathcart, and--yes! Hector Darcy himself. I did not know he had come down. My dear child, what _shall_ we do?"

But Peggy was speechless, stricken for once beyond power of repartee at the thought of the predicament which her carelessness had brought about.

Her own humiliation and cook's disgust were as nothing, compared with the thought of her father's anger at the violation of his hospitable instincts. She could not retain even the semblance of composure, and the nervous, incoherent greeting which she accorded to the strangers was strangely in contrast with her usual self-possession.

Hector Darcy looked down into the flushed little face, and listened to the faltering words, his own heavy features lighting with pleasure. It was the first time he had seen Peggy lose her self-possession, and if he connected the fact with his own sudden appearance, it was no more than was to be expected from masculine vanity. He told himself that he had never seen her more dainty and pretty than she looked now, in her white dress, with the touch of pink, matching the colour on her cheeks, and Colonel Saville thought the same, and cast a glance of pride upon her as he cried:

"Back again, you see! I met Cathcart and Hector, as they meant to pay you a call in any case, I thought I had better bring them home with me to lunch. I told them I was not expected, but that my clever little housekeeper would be able to give us a meal. Anything you have, my dear; but be quick about it! We don't care what we have, but we want it at once. Waiting is the one thing we cannot stand."

That was the way in which he invariably spoke; but, alas, never were words more falsely uttered. The "clever little housekeeper" realised how difficult would be the task of giving satisfaction, and mentally rent her garments in despair.

"I will do the best I can, but you must allow me a little grace!" she said, twisting her features into a smile. "Mother and I were going to have our lunch out here, so it will take some time to have the table laid. You do not care for a picnic arrangement?"

"No, no, no! Detest out-of-door meals. Nothing but flies and discomfort," declared the colonel roundly; and Peggy walked away towards the house, profoundly wishing that she could make her escape altogether, and scour the country until the dreaded hour was pa.s.sed.

Cook was furious, as any right-minded cook would, under such circ.u.mstances, be.

"How," she demanded, "could she be expected to make anything out of nothing? She knew her work as well as most, and no one couldn't say but what she made the best of materials, but she wasn't a magician, nor yet a conjurer, and didn't set up to be, and therefore could not be expected to cook a dinner when there was no dinner to cook. It was enough to wear a body out, all these upsets and bothers, and she was sick of it.

It was no good living in a place where you were blamed for what was not your fault. She did her best, and saints could do no more!" So on and so on, while Peggy stood by, sighing like a furnace, and feeling it a just punishment for her sins that she should be condemned to listen without excuses. Meekness, however, is sometimes a more powerful weapon than severity, and despite her hot temper cook adored her young mistress, and could not long endure the sight of the disconsolate face.

The angry words died away into subdued murmurings, she rolled up her sleeves, and announced herself ready to obey orders. "For no one should say as she hadn't done her duty by any house, as long as she lived in it."

"It's more than can be said of me, cook, I'm afraid; but help me out of this sc.r.a.pe like a good soul, and I'll be a reformed character for the rest of my life! This will be a lesson which I shall never forget!"

declared Peggy honestly; but she did not suspect in how serious a sense her words would become true. The adventures of that morning were not yet over, and the consequences therefrom were more lasting than she could antic.i.p.ate.