Wild Heather Part 37

Vernon immediately begged to be allowed to draw the cork; he said that such precious old wine as that required most tender handling. Aunt Penelope and I had a little gla.s.s each, and Vernon had one or two, and afterwards he told Aunt Penelope something of our plans and how he and I were going to London on the morrow to see my father and Lady Helen.

Aunt Penelope nodded her head several times.

"I have only one improvement to make on that plan," she said.

"Oh, but what improvement can you make, auntie?" was my reply.

"I can and I will," she said, with emphasis. "I am quite well now, as well as ever. Now what I mean to do is this; I mean to go with you two good young people. I will never be in your way, never for a moment, but I will guard you from the malicious tongue of Mrs. Grundy. She's a nasty old body, and I don't want her to get at you. There's a quiet little hotel in Bloomsbury where Heather and I can have rooms, and where we can stay, and I make not the slightest doubt that I can help Heather very considerably in her dealings with Lady Helen Dalrymple."

"Oh, you can, you can," I said; "it will be quite splendid!"

So the plan was carried out. Jonas was informed that very evening that Miss Penelope and I were going to leave Hill View early on the morrow.

"We shall probably be back in a few days," said Aunt Penelope. "In the meantime, Jonas, you must attend to the house cleaning; give it a thorough turn-out. Wash every sc.r.a.p of paint, Jonas; be sure you wash the backs of the shutters, don't leave a single place with a sc.r.a.p of dirt in it; remember, I'll find it out if it exists--be certain of that."

"Yes, mum; thank you, mum," said Jonas. "I'll be sure to do what you wish, mum."

"And Jonas, you understand the garden. You can get the gra.s.s into order and remove all the weeds. We may be having a smart time down here by and by, there's no saying, there's no saying at all, but at least remember that you haven't a minute to lose. You are a good boy, Jonas, and you'll work as hard when I am away as though I were at home."

"Yes, mum; of course, mum," said Jonas. "Me and the parrot," he added.

"Stop knocking at the door!" shouted the parrot.

"There! if that bird isn't enough to split one's head," said Aunt Penelope.

She went upstairs. Vernon had already gone back to the hotel. b.u.t.tons gave me a feeling glance.

"Stay below for a minute, missy. Is it true? Is there nuptials in this 'ere thing?"

"Yes, Jonas."

"I thought as much. Didn't I twig it when I heard his steps and saw the starty sort of way you got into? I'm a smart boy, I am. Missy, you'll have me at the wedding, won't you?"

"I promise you, Jonas, you shall certainly come," I answered rashly.

The next day we went up to London. We had no special adventure on our journey to town. We went first-cla.s.s. I remembered my journey down, and how interesting I had thought the third-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers, but now we travelled back in state. Vernon said it would be less tiring for Aunt Penelope. When we got to Paddington we drove to the little hotel that Aunt Penelope knew about; it was a quiet little place at one corner of a small square in Bloomsbury. It was very old-fashioned and not much frequented of late. The proprietor, however, knew Aunt Penelope quite well. Had he not entertained her and my mother also in the long-ago days when they were young? Aunt Penelope was anxious to secure the same rooms, and, strange as it may seem, she managed to get them. The landlord was very pleased indeed to show them to her, and she told me afterwards that the sight of them brought a p.r.i.c.kly sensation into the back of her eyes, and made her feel inclined to cry. The rooms were quiet and clean, and that was the main thing. Vernon did not think much of them, but they pleased Aunt Penelope, and that, of course, was the most important matter of all.

Having arranged about the rooms, Vernon now suggested that we should engage a taxi-cab and drive straight to Hanbury Square, but here Aunt Penelope put down her foot.

"What sort of cab did you say, my dear boy?"

"A taxi-cab, auntie." He called her "auntie" from the very moment we were properly engaged.

"I don't like new sorts of cabs," replied my aunt. "I want what in my young days used to be called a 'growler.' I hate hansoms; I wouldn't dare go in one of them."

In vain poor Vernon pleaded for the light and swift motion of the cab which was driven by petrol. The old lady held up her hands with horror.

"Not for worlds would I go in a motor-cab," she said. "Vernon, I have admired you and stood up for you, but I shall do so no longer if you even mention such a thing to me again."

So in the end we three had to drive to my stepmother's in a four-wheeled cab. Aunt Penelope said that it was quite a handsome conveyance, and not the least like the "growlers" she used to remember in the days when she and her sister were young. We got to the great and beautiful house about noon. We walked up the steps and Vernon rang the bell.

"Perhaps they'll be out," I could not help whispering in his ear.

"No, I think not," he replied. "I sent a telegram this morning which I imagine will keep them at home. Now, you'll keep up your courage, won't you, darling?"

"You needn't be afraid," I replied.

He gave my hand a squeeze, and the door was flung open. The automaton who opened it could not help becoming flesh and blood when he saw my face. A queer flicker went over his countenance; he coloured, faintly smiled, then, remembering himself, became a wooden man once again.

"Is Lady Helen in?" I ventured to say.

"Yes, Miss Dalrymple. I'll inquire of her ladyship if she can see you, and----" he glanced at Vernon, he looked with downright suspicion at Aunt Penelope.

"It is all right," I said. "We can go into the little sitting-room at the left of the hall. Will you please say that I have called, and that Miss Despard and Captain Carbury are with me? Say that we wish to see her ladyship."

"And as soon as possible," snapped Aunt Penelope. "Have the goodness further to inform Lady Helen that we are in a considerable hurry, and would be glad if she would make it convenient not to keep us waiting long."

"Certainly, madam," replied the man. He disappeared, and we waited in the little room towards the left of the hall.

"Aunt Penelope, you _are_ brave," I could not help saying.

"I come of a brave stock," said the old lady. "Did not my father die when little more than a boy in the battle of Inkerman, and my grandfather at Waterloo? Yes, I had need to be brave."

CHAPTER XXI

While Aunt Penelope talked my heart beat very hard. From time to time I could not help glancing at Vernon. Was he guessing my thoughts--was he understanding?

He stood with his back to us, looking out of the window. Once or twice he whistled a little, he whistled a bar of a popular melody; then he thrust his hands into his pockets, turned swiftly round, took up a newspaper, flung himself into a chair, and pretended to read. I might have felt vexed with him, I might even have accused him of want of sympathy, if I had not suddenly noticed that he was holding the paper upside down--he was not reading at all. He was in reality as excited and troubled as I was myself. My heart warmed to him with a great glow when I observed this. I felt what good, what splendid friends we would be in the future, how like n.o.body else in all the world he was, and what a lucky, very lucky, girl I was to have won him. But no--even at the risk of losing my own happiness I would not leave my father to the mercies of Lady Helen. Unless that matter could be put right, I would not marry my darling Vernon. The thought brought a great soreness into my heart, and I felt the tears p.r.i.c.king my eyes from behind, and I was glad when our time of suspense was over, for the same flunkey who had opened the door for us now appeared, standing on the threshold of the little room where we had taken refuge, and said:

"Lady Helen's compliments, and she will be pleased to give you an audience, Miss Dalrymple."

"I am coming, too. Does her ladyship know?" inquired Aunt Penelope.

"She said Miss Dalrymple," replied the man.

"Nonsense!" said Aunt Penelope. "We'll all come, my good man. Will you have the kindness to show the way? Now march, please; although you're wearing such a smart livery, you're not nearly such a good servant as my boy Jonas."

The man's name was Robert, and he was one of the most superior servants of the house, and I really felt annoyed with Aunt Penelope for attacking him in this fashion. He got very red, but then his eyes met mine, and something in my eyes must have begged of him to be patient, for he certainly was patient, and then, without another word, he went before us, and we three followed, and a minute or two later we were in Lady Helen's presence.

I was at once relieved and surprised to find that my father was not there. It happened to be a very hot day; it was now July, and London was suffering from a spell of intensely hot weather. Lady Helen's sitting-room looked very cool and inviting. There were soft, bluey-green blinds draped across the windows--the effect was a sort of bluey-grey mist, at once refreshing and becoming. There were quant.i.ties of flowers in the room, so much so that Aunt Penelope began to sniff at once. She sniffed audibly, and said in a loud aside to Vernon:

"No wonder the poor woman looks ill; such a strong smell of flowers is bad for anyone."

Lady Helen herself was in a most wonderful make-up that morning. She had a very elegant figure, notwithstanding her years. She was dressed in the extreme height of the prevailing mode, and looked--that is, until the full light of day shone upon her--like a woman who was between forty and fifty, at most. She must have been wearing a completely new arrangement on her head; I cannot call it her own hair, for I happened to know that it was only hers in the sense that she had honestly paid for it. It was of a pale golden shade; when last I saw her she was wearing chestnut curls. This _coiffure_ was arranged in the most becoming manner on the top of her head, and fell in soft little ringlets round her ears and about her neck. Her dress was of the "coat and skirt" style, cut in tailor fashion, and extremely smart. On the back of her golden head she wore an enormous black crinoline hat, trimmed with great ostrich tips; altogether her appearance was too wonderful for Aunt Penelope to bear long with patience. She was standing up as we entered the room, and now she came quickly towards us.