My Mother's Rival Part 7

"No, I should not like to do that; it would seem like taking an unfair advantage of her helplessness."

Miss Reinhart blushed deeply.

"Oh, Sir Roland!" she cried, "you could not suppose that I thought of such a thing! I a.s.sure you I am quite incapable of it. I thought only of dear Lady Tayne."

And she seemed so distressed, so concerned and anxious that my father hardly knew how to rea.s.sure her. She explained and protested until at last, and with something of impatience, he said:

"I will speak to Lady Tayne about it this morning." I knew he felt in want of some kind of moral support when he took my hand and said, in would-be careless words: "Come with me, Laura, to see mamma."

And we went, hand-in-hand, to my mother's room. There, after the usual loving greetings had been exchanged, my father broached the subject which evidently perplexed and sadly worried him. Broached it ever so gently, but I, who knew every look and trick of my mother's face, saw how deeply pained she was. She never attempted to interrupt him, but when he had finished speaking--having pa.s.sed over very lightly indeed the little domestic matters which had gone wrong since my mother's illness, dwelling princ.i.p.ally upon the benefit that would most probably accrue if a younger housekeeper were engaged--my mother declined to do anything of the kind.

"My dear Roland," she said, "it would literally break my heart; think what a faithful old servant she has been."

"That is just it," said my father; "she is too old--too old, Miss Reinhart thinks, to do her work well."

There is a moment's silence.

"Miss Reinhart thinks so," said my mother, in those clear, gentle tones I knew so well; "but then, Roland, what can Miss Reinhart know about our household matters?"

That question puzzled him, for I believe that he himself was quite unconscious how or to what extent he was influenced by my governess.

"I should think," he replied, "that she must have noticed the little disasters and failures. She is only anxious to spare you trouble and help you."

"That would not help me, sending away an attached and faithful old servant like Mrs. Eastwood and putting a stranger in her place."

"But if the stranger should be more efficient of the two, what then, Beatrice?"

"I do not care about that," she said, plaintively. "Mrs. Eastwood could have an a.s.sistant--that would be better. You see, Roland, I am so accustomed to her, she knows all my ways, and sends me just what I like.

I am so thoroughly accustomed to her I could not bear a stranger."

"But, my darling, the stranger would never come near you," said my father.

"Mrs. Eastwood does," said my mother. "You do not know, Roland, when my maid and nurse are tired she often comes to sit with me in the dead of night, and we can talk about old times, even before you were born. She tells me about your mother and you when you were a little boy. I should not like to lose her. Miss Reinhart does not understand."

"That settles the affair, my darling. If you do not decidedly wish it, it shall never be done."

She drew his face down to hers and kissed it.

"You are so good to me," she said, gently. "You bear so much for my sake. I know that you will not mind a little inconvenience every now and then. I am sure you will not."

"No; if you wish her to stay she shall do so," said Sir Roland; but I, who know every play of his features, feel quite sure that he was not pleased.

Little was said the next morning at breakfast time. Sir Roland said hurriedly that Lady Tayne did not wish to change; she was attached to the old housekeeper, and did not like to lose her. Miss Reinhart listened with a gentle, sympathetic face.

"Yes," she said, "it will, of course, be much more pleasant for Lady Tayne, but you should be considered as well. I know of a person, a most excellent, economical managing woman, who is competent in every way to undertake the situation. Still, if I cannot serve you in one way, can I not in another? Shall I try to make matters easier for Mrs. Eastwood? I understand housekeeping very well. I could do some good, I think!"

"You are very kind to offer," he said. "I really do not like to complain to Lady Tayne. She cannot possibly help it, and it distresses her. Not that there is much the matter, only a few little irregularities; but then you will not have time."

"If you give me the permission," she said, "I will make the time."

"It would really be a kindness," he said, "and I am very grateful to you indeed. Perhaps you will be kind enough just to overlook matters for me."

I was with them, listening in fear and trembling, for I knew quite well that Mrs. Eastwood would never submit to the rule of my governess. No woman on earth ever played her cards so skillfully as Miss Reinhart. She did not begin by interfering with the housekeeping at once; that would not have been policy; she was far too wise.

She began by small reforms. The truth must be told. Since my mother's long illness our household had in some measure relaxed from its good discipline. At first Miss Reinhart only interfered with the minor arrangements. She made little alterations, all of which were conducive to my father's comfort, and he was very grateful. When he saw that she did so well in one direction, he asked her to help in another; and at last came, what I had foreseen, a collision with Mrs. Eastwood.

The Wars of the Roses were nothing to it. But for the pitiful tragedy embodied in it, I could have laughed as at a farce. Miss Reinhart was valiant, but Mrs. Eastwood was more valiant still. The whole household ranged itself on one side or the other. The old servants were all on the housekeeper's side, the new ones went with Miss Reinhart.

"A house divided against itself cannot stand." Ours did not. Before long the rival powers came into collision, and there was a declaration of war--war to the knife!

Miss Reinhart, "speaking solely in the interests of Sir Roland," wished the dinner hour to be changed; it would be more convenient and suitable to Sir Roland if it were an hour later. The housekeeper said that to make it an hour later would be to disturb all the arrangements of the house, and it could not be done.

Miss Reinhart said it was the duty of the housekeeper to obey.

The housekeeper said that she was accustomed to take her orders from the master and mistress of the house, and that she did not recognize that of the governess.

"You will be compelled to recognize mine, Mrs. Eastwood, if you remain here," she said.

"Then I shall not remain," said the old housekeeper, trembling with indignation, which was exactly what Miss Reinhart had desired her to say.

"You had better tell Sir Roland yourself," said my governess, in her cold, impa.s.sive manner. "It has nothing whatever to do with me. Sir Roland wishes me to attend to these things, and I have done so--the result does not lie with me."

"I have lived here, the most faithful and devoted of servants, for more than fifty years. Why should you turn me away, or seek to turn me away?"

she said. "I have never wronged you. You may get one more clever, but no one who will love my lady as I do--no one who will serve her one-half so faithfully or so well, try your best, Miss Reinhart."

"I have nothing to do with it," she replied coldly. "I will tell Sir Roland that you desire to leave--there my business ends."

"I beg your pardon, Miss Reinhart, there it does not end. I have no wish to leave the place and family I love so well; but I say that I would rather leave than obey you."

"I will word your message just as you wish," she said; "there shall be no mistake."

I was with her when that conversation was repeated to Sir Roland, and I may say that was my first real experience in the real deceit of the world. Repeated to him, it bore quite a different aspect; it was an insolent rebellion against proper authority, and my father resented it very much.

"Unless you had told me yourself, I would not have believed it, Miss Reinhart."

"It is quite true," she replied, calmly, looking, in her exquisite morning dress, calm, sweet and unruffled as an angel.

I believe, honestly, that from that time she tried to make things worse.

Every day the feud increased, until the whole household seemed to be ranged one against the other. If the housekeeper said one thing, Miss Reinhart at once said the opposite. Then an appeal would be made to Sir Roland, who gradually became worn and worried of the very sound of it.

"You will do no good," said Miss Reinhart to my father, "until you have pensioned that old housekeeper off. Once done, you will have perfect peace."

Constant dripping wears away a stone. My father was so accustomed to hearing she must go that at last the idea became familiar to him. I am quite sure that Miss Reinhart had made this her test; that she had said to herself--if she had her own way in this, she should in everything else. It was her test of what she might do and how far she might go.

It came at last. The blow fell on us, and she won. My father spoke seriously to my mother. He said Mrs. Eastwood could have a cottage on the estate, and he should allow her a sufficient income to live upon.

She could come to the Abbey when she liked to call on my mother, and might be as happy as possible. It was not just to the other servants, or even to themselves, he said, to keep one in such a position who was really too old to fulfill the duties.

My mother said nothing. It must be just as my father pleased. But when he added that Miss Reinhart thought it the best thing possible, she turned away her face and said no more.