CHAPTER III
THE SURPRISE PACKET
The sun-dial pointed to half past four o'clock. The hour of silenceappeared to be over. The birds commenced twittering; and a cuckoo, inan adjacent wood, sounded his note at intervals.
The house awoke to sudden life. There was an opening and shutting ofdoors. Two footmen, in the mulberry and silver of the Meldrum livery,hurried down from the terrace, carrying folding tea-tables, with whichthey supplemented those of rustic oak standing permanently under thecedar. One, promptly returned to the house; while the other remainedbehind, spreading snowy cloths over each table.
The macaw awoke, stretched his wings and flapped them twice, thensidled up and down his perch, concentrating his attention upon thefootman.
"Mind!" he exclaimed suddenly, in the butler's voice, as a cloth, flungon too hurriedly, fluttered to the grass.
"Hold your jaw!" said the young footman irritably, flicking the birdwith the table-cloth, and then glancing furtively at the rose-garden.
"Tommy wants a gooseberry!" shrieked the macaw, dodging the table-clothand hanging, head downwards, from his perch.
"Don't you wish you may get it?" said the footman viciously.
"Give it him, somebody," remarked Tommy, in the duchess's voice.
The footman started, and looked over his shoulder; then hurriedly toldTommy just what he thought of him, and where he wished him; cuffed himsoundly, and returned to the house, followed by peals of laughter,mingled with exhortations and imprecations from the angry bird, whodanced up and down on his perch until his enemy had vanished from view.
A few minutes later the tables were spread with the large variety ofeatables considered necessary at an English afternoon tea; the massivesilver urn and teapots gleamed on the buffet-table, behind which theold butler presided; muffins, crumpets, cakes, and every kind ofsandwich supplemented the dainty little rolled slices of white andbrown bread-and-butter, while heaped-up bowls of freshly gatheredstrawberries lent a touch of colour to the artistic effect of white andsilver. When all was ready, the butler raised his hand and sounded anold Chinese gong hanging in the cedar tree. Before the penetrating boomhad died away, voices were heard in the distance from all over thegrounds.
Up from the river, down from the tennis courts, out from house andgarden, came the duchess's guests, rejoicing in the refreshing prospectof tea, hurrying to the welcome shade of the cedar;--charming women inwhite, carefully guarding their complexions beneath shady hats andpicturesque parasols;--delightful girls, who had long ago sacrificedcomplexions to comfort, and now walked across the lawn bareheaded,swinging their rackets and discussing the last hard-fought set; men inflannels, sunburned and handsome, joining in the talk and laughter;praising their partners, while remaining unobtrusively silent as totheir own achievements.
They made a picturesque group as they gathered under the tree,subsiding with immense satisfaction into the low wicker chairs, or onto the soft turf, and helping themselves to what they pleased. When allwere supplied with tea, coffee, or iced drinks, to their liking,conversation flowed again.
"So the duchess's concert comes off to-night," remarked some one. "Iwish to goodness they would hang this tree with Chinese lanterns and,have it out here. It is too hot to face a crowded function indoors."
"Oh, that's all right," said Garth Dalmain, "I'm stage-manager, youknow; and I can promise you that all the long windows opening on to theterrace shall stand wide. So no one need be in the concert-room, whoprefers to stop outside. There will be a row of lounge chairs placed onthe terrace near the windows. You won't see much; but you will hear,perfectly."
"Ah, but half the fun is in seeing," exclaimed one of the tennis girls."People who have remained on the terrace will miss all the point of itafterwards when the dear duchess shows us how everybody did it. I don'tcare how hot it is. Book me a seat in the front row!"
"Who is the surprise packet to-night?" asked Lady Ingleby, who hadarrived since luncheon.
"Velma," said Mary Strathern. "She is coming for the week-end, anddelightful it will be to have her. No one but the duchess could haveworked it, and no place but Overdene would have tempted her. She willsing only one song at the concert; but she is sure to break forth lateron, and give us plenty. We will persuade Jane to drift to the pianoaccidentally and play over, just by chance, the opening bars of some ofVelma's best things, and we shall soon hear the magic voice. She nevercan resist a perfectly played accompaniment."
"Why call Madame Velma the `surprise packet'?" asked a girl, to whomthe Overdene "best parties" were a new experience.
"That, my dear," replied Lady Ingleby, "is a little joke of theduchess's. This concert is arranged for the amusement of her houseparty, and for the gratification and glorification of localcelebrities. The whole neighbourhood is invited. None of you are askedto perform, but local celebrities are. In fact they furnish the entireprogramme, to their own delight, the satisfaction of their friends andrelatives, and our entertainment, particularly afterwards when theduchess takes us through every item, with original notes, comments, andimpersonations. Oh, Dal! Do you remember when she tucked a sheet ofwhite writing-paper into her tea-gown for a dog collar, and took offthe high-church curate nervously singing a comic song? Then at the veryend, you see--and really some of it is quite good for amateurs--shetrots out Velma, or some equally perfect artiste, to show them how itreally can be done; and suddenly the place is full of music, and agreat hush falls on the audience, and the poor complacent amateursrealise that the noise they have been making was, after all, not music;and they go dumbly home. But they have forgotten all about it by thefollowing year; or a fresh contingent of willing performers steps intothe breach. The duchess's little joke always comes off."
"The Honourable Jane does not approve of it," said young Ronald Ingram;"therefore she is generally given marching orders and departs to hernext visit before the event. But no one can accompany Madame Velma soperfectly, so this time she is commanded to stay. But I doubt if the'surprise packet' will come off with quite such a shock as usual, and Iam certain the fun won't be so good afterwards. The Honourable Jane hasbeen known to jump on the duchess for that sort of thing. She is safeto get the worst of it at the time, but it has a restraining effectafterwards."
"I think Miss Champion is quite right," said a bright-faced Americangirl, bravely, holding a gold spoon poised for a moment over thestrawberry ice-cream with which Garth Dalmain had supplied her.
"In my country we should call it real mean to laugh, at people who hadbeen our guests and performed in our houses."
"In your country, my dear," said Myra Ingleby, "you have no duchesses."
"Well, we supply you with quite a good few," replied the American girlcalmly, and went on with her ice.
A general laugh followed; and the latest Anglo-American match came upfor discussion.
"Where is the Honourable Jane?" inquired someone presently.
"Golfing with Billy," said Ronald Ingram. "Ah, here they come."
Jane's tall figure was seen, walking along the terrace, accompanied byBilly Cathcart, talking eagerly. They put their clubs away in the lowerhall; then came down the lawn together to the tea-tables.
Jane wore a tailor-made coat and skirt of grey tweed, a blue and whitecambric shirt, starched linen collar and cuffs, a silk tie, and a softfelt hat with a few black quills in it. She walked with the freedom ofmovement and swing of limb which indicate great strength and a bodywell under control. Her appearance was extraordinarily unlike that ofall the pretty and graceful women grouped beneath the cedar tree. Andyet it was in no sense masculine--or, to use a more appropriate word,mannish; for everything strong is masculine; but a woman who apes anappearance of strength which she does not possess, is mannish;--ratherwas it so truly feminine that she could afford to adopt a severesimplicity of attire, which suited admirably the decided plainness ofher features, and the almost massive proportions of her figure.
She stepped into the circle beneath the cedar, and took one of theh
alf-dozen places immediately vacated by the men, with the completeabsence of self-consciousness which always characterised her.
"What did you go round in, Miss Champion?" inquired one of the men.
"My ordinary clothes," replied Jane; quoting Punch, and evading thequestion.
But Billy burst out: "She went round in--"
"Oh, be quiet, Billy," interposed Jane. "You and I are practically theonly golf maniacs present. Most of these dear people are even ignorantas to who 'bogie' is, or why we should be so proud of beating him.Where is my aunt? Poor Simmons was toddling all over the place when wewent in to put away our clubs, searching for her with a telegram."
"Why didn't you open it?" asked Myra.
"Because my aunt never allows her telegrams to be opened. She lovesshocks; and there is always the possibility of a telegram containingstartling news. She says it completely spoils it if some one else knowsit first, and breaks it to her gently."
"Here comes the duchess," said Garth Dalmain, who was sitting where hecould see the little gate into the rose-garden.
"Do not mention the telegram," cautioned Jane. "It would not please herthat I should even know of its arrival. It would be a shame to take anyof the bloom off the unexpected delight of a wire on this hot day, whennothing unusual seemed likely to happen."
They turned and looked towards the duchess as she bustled across thelawn; this quaint old figure, who had called them together; who ownedthe lovely place where they were spending such delightful days; andwhose odd whimsicalities had been so freely discussed while they drankher tea and feasted off her strawberries. The men rose as sheapproached, but not quite so spontaneously as they had done for herniece.
The duchess carried a large wooden basket filled to overflowing withexquisite roses. Every bloom was perfect, and each had been cut atexactly the right moment.