CHAPTER XII
At the moment that Enid Crofton was telling herself that everything wasgoing fairly well with her, and that nothing could alter the fact thatshe was now, and likely to remain for a long time, a woman likely toattract every man with whom she came in contact--Godfrey Radmore,following Janet Tosswill after breakfast into the drawing-room of OldPlace, exclaimed deprecatingly:--"I feel like Rip Van Winkle!'
"Do you?" She turned to him and smiled a little sadly. "It's _you_ thathave changed, Godfrey. Everything here is much the same. As for me, Inever see any change from one year to another."
"But they've all grown up!" he exclaimed plaintively. "You can't thinkhow odd it seems to find a lot of grown-up young ladies and gentlemeninstead of the jolly little kids who were in the nursery with Nanna nineyears ago. By the way, Nanna hasn't changed, and"--he hesitated, thenbrought out with an effort, "Mr. Tosswill is exactly the same."
She felt vexed that he hadn't included Betty. To her step-mother's fondeyes Betty was more attractive now than in her early girlhood. "I thinkthe children have improved very much," she said quickly. "Jack was ahorrid little prig nine years ago!"
She hadn't forgiven Radmore. And yet, in a sense, she was readjusting herviews and theories about him, for the simple reason that he, GodfreyRadmore, had changed so utterly. From having been a hot-tempered,untameable, high-spirited boy, he was now, or so it seemed to her, acool, restrained man of the world, old for his years. In fact it was hewho was now a stranger--but a stranger who had most attractive manners,and who had somehow slipped very easily into their everyday life. Janetliked his deferential manner to the master of the house, she enjoyed hiskindly and good-humoured, if slightly satirical dealings with Jack andwith pretty Rosamund, and she was very grateful to him for the way hetreated queer, little Timmy, her own beloved changeling child.
And now something happened that touched her, and made her suddenly feelas if she was with the old Godfrey Radmore again.
"Look here," he said, in a low, hesitating voice, "I want to tell you,Janet, that I didn't know till yesterday about George. You'll think me afool--but somehow I always thought of him as being safe in India." Andthen with sudden passion he asked:--"How can you say that everything isthe same in Old Place with George not here? Why, to me, George was asmuch part of Old Place as--as Betty is!"
"We all thought you knew--at least I wasn't sure."
"Thank God _he_ didn't think so poorly of me as that," he muttered, andthen he looked away, his eyes smarting with unshed tears. "Nothing willever be the same to me again without George in the world."
As she said nothing, he went on with sudden passion:--"Every othercountry in Europe has changed utterly since the War, but England seemedto me, till last night, exactly the same--only rather bigger and morebustling than nine years ago." He drew a long breath. "Timmy and I wentinto the post-office last evening, and Cobbett asked me to go in, and seehis wife. I thought I remembered her so well--and when I saw her, Janet,I didn't know her! Then I asked after her boys--and she told me."
"It's strange that a man who went through it all himself should feel likethat," she said slowly.
The door opened suddenly and Rosamund's pretty head appeared: "There's amessage come through saying that your car's all right, and that it willbe along in about an hour," she exclaimed joyfully. To Rosamund, GodfreyRadmore was in very truth a stranger, and a very attractive stranger atthat.
As a rule, after breakfast, all the young people went their various ways,but this morning they were all hanging about waiting vaguely for Godfreyto come and do something with one or all of them. Rosamund was longing toask him whether he knew any of the London theatrical managers; Tom waswondering whether Godfrey would allow him to drive his car; Dolly andTimmy, as different in everything else as two human beings could wellbe, each desired to take him into the village and show him off to theirfriends. The only one of the young people who was not really interestedin Radmore was Jack Tosswill. He was engaged just now in lookingfeverishly for an old gardening book which he had promised to lend Mrs.Crofton, and he was cursing under his breath because the book had beenmislaid.
As Rosamund looked in, her step-mother and Radmore both stopped speakingabruptly, and so after a doubtful moment, she withdrew her head, and shutthe door behind her.
"Tell me about George," he said, without looking at her.
"I think Betty would like to tell you," she answered slowly: "Ask herabout him some time when you're alone together."
"Where is she now?" he asked abruptly.
"In the kitchen I think--but she won't be long."
Jack, looking ruffled and uneasy, very unlike his quiet, cool self, burstinto the room. "I can't think where that old shabby green gardening bookhas gone, Janet. Do you know where it is?"
"You mean 'Gardening for Ladies'?"
"Yes."
"What on earth d'you want it for?"
"For Mrs. Crofton. Her garden's been awfully neglected."
"I'll find it presently. I think it's in my bedroom."
Again the door shut, and Janet turned to Radmore: "Your friend has madea conquest of Jack!" She spoke with a touch of rather studied unconcern,for she had been a little taken aback last evening when Timmy had toldher casually of his own and his godfather's call at The Trellis House.
"My friend?" Radmore repeated uncertainly.
"I mean Mrs. Crofton. The coming of a new person to live in Beechfield isstill quite an event, Godfrey."
"I don't think she'll make much difference to Beechfield," again he spokewith a touch of hesitation. "To tell you the truth, Janet, I ratherwonder that she decided to live in the country at all. I should havethought that she would far prefer London, and all that London stands for.But I'm afraid that she's got very little money, and, of course, thecountry _is_ cheaper than town, isn't it?"
"I suppose it is. But Mrs. Crofton can't be poor. I know she paid apremium for the lease of The Trellis House."
"That's odd." Radmore spoke in an off-hand manner, but Janet, watchinghim, thought he felt a little awkward. He went on:--"I know that ColonelCrofton was hard up. He told me so, quite frankly, the last time I sawhim. But of course she may have had money of her own."
Janet looked at him rather hard. A disagreeable suspicion had entered hermind. She wondered whether there was anything like an "understanding"between the man she was talking to and the tenant of The Trellis House.If so, she wished with all her heart that Godfrey Radmore had kept away.Why stir up embers they had all thought were dead, if he was going tomarry this very pretty but, to her mind, second-rate little woman, assoon as a decent time had elapsed?
"What are your plans for the future?" she asked. "Are you going to settledown, or are you going to travel a bit?" ("After all, he won't be able tomarry Mrs. Crofton for at least another six months," she said toherself.)
"Oh, I mean to settle down." His answer was quick, decisive, final.
He went on: "My idea is to find a place, not too far from here, thatI can buy; and my plan is to go about and look for it now. That's whyI've hired a motor for a month. Perhaps you'd lend me Timmy, and, if itwouldn't be improper, one of the girls, now and again? We might go roundand look about a bit."
And then he walked across to where she was standing, and put his hand onher arm, "How about you?" he asked, "why shouldn't I take you and Timmy alittle jaunt just for a week or so--that would be rather fun, eh?"
She smiled and shook her head.
He took a step back. "Look here, Janet--do try and forgive me--I'm a moresensible chap than I was, honest Injun!"
"I'm beginning to think you are," she cried, and then they both burst outlaughing.
He lingered a moment. He was longing, longing intensely, to ask hercertain questions. He wanted to know about Betty--what sort of a lifeBetty had made for herself. He still, in an odd way, felt responsiblefor Betty--which was clearly absurd.
And then Janet Tosswill said something that surprised him very much. "Ithink you'd better go round
and see some of the people in the villageto-day. I was rather sorry you went off straight to The Trellis Houselast evening. You know how folks talked, even in the old days, inBeechfield?"
He looked uneasy--taken aback, and she felt, if a little ashamed, gladthat she had made that "fishing" remark.
There was a pause, and then he said with a touch of formality: "Lookhere, Janet? I'd like you to know that though I've become quite fond ofMrs. Crofton, I'm only fond--nothing more, you understand? Perhaps I'llmake my meaning clearer when I tell you that I was the only man in Egyptwho knew her who wasn't in love with her."
He saw her face change and, rather piqued, he asked: "Did you think Iwas?"
"I thought that you and she were great friends--"
"Well, so we are in a way. I saw a great deal of her in London."
"And you went straight off to see her the moment you arrived here."
"Well, perhaps I was foolish to do that."
What an odd admission to make. He certainly had changed amazingly in thelast nine years!
Then it was Janet who surprised him: "Don't make any mistake," she saidquickly. "There's no reason in the world why you shouldn't marry Mrs.Crofton--after a decent interval has elapsed. All I meant to say--andI'd rather say it right out now--is that as most people know that herhusband hasn't been dead more than a few weeks, you ought to be rathercareful, all the more careful if--if your friendship should come toanything, Godfrey."
"But it won't!" he exclaimed, with a touch of the old heat, "indeed itwon't, Janet. To tell you the truth, I don't think I shall ever marry."
"_I_ certainly shouldn't if I were a rich bachelor," she said laughing;and yet somehow what he had just said hurt her.
As for Radmore, he felt just a little jarred by her words. Had she quiteforgotten all that had happened in that long ago which, in a sense,seemed to belong to another life? He hadn't, and since his arrivalyesterday certain things had come back in a rushing flood of memory.
"I've something to do in the garden now." Janet was smiling--she reallydid feel perhaps rather absurdly relieved. Like Timmy, she didn't carefor Mrs. Crofton, and the mere suspicion that Godfrey Radmore had comeback here to Old Place in order to carry on a love affair had disturbedher.
"By the way, how's McPherson?" he asked abruptly. "He _is_ a splendidgardener and no mistake! I've never seen a garden looking more beautifulthan yours does just now, Janet. I woke early this morning and lookedout of my window. I suppose McPherson's about--I'll go out and speak tohim."
Her face shadowed. "McPherson," she said slowly, "was one of the firstmen to leave Beechfield. He was perfectly fit, and he made up his mind togo at once. You know, Godfrey--or perhaps you don't know--that the Scotchglens emptied first of men?"
"D'you mean...?"
She nodded. "He was killed at the second battle of Ypres. He was sent tothe Front rather sooner than most, for he was a very intelligent man, andreally keen. I've got a boy now, a lad of seventeen--not half a bad sort,but it does seem strange to give him every Saturday just double the moneyI used to give McPherson!"
She went out, through into the garden, on these last words, and againthere came over Radmore a feeling of poignant sadness. How strange thathe should have spent those weeks in London, knowing so little, nay, notknowing at all, what the War had really meant to the home country.
He opened the door into the corridor, and listened, wondering where theyhad all gone. He had some business letters to write, and he told himselfthat he would go and get them done in what he still thought of in hismind as George's room. He had noticed that the big plain deal writingtable was still there.
He went upstairs, and when he opened the bedroom door, he was astonishedto find Rosamund kneeling in front of George's old play-box, routingamong what looked like a lot of papers and books.
"I'm hunting for a prescription for father," she said, looking up. "Timmythinks he put it in here one day after coming back from the chemist's atGuildford." She looked flushed, and decidedly cross, as she went on: "Noone's taught Timmy to put things in their proper place, as we were taughtto do, when we were children!"
Radmore felt amused. She certainly was very, very pretty, and did notlook much more than a child herself.
"Look here," he said good-naturedly, "let me help. I don't think you'regoing the right way to work." He felt just a little bit sorry for Timmy;Rosamund was raking about as if the play-box was a bran-pie.
Bending down he took up out of the box a bundle of envelopes, copybooks,and Christmas cards. Then he sat himself down on a chair in the window,and began going through what he held, carefully and methodically.
Suddenly through the open door there came a cry of "Miss Rosamund, I wantyou!"
Rosamund got up reluctantly. "Nanna's a regular tyrant!"
"Leave all this to me," he said. "I'll find the prescription if it'shere."
She went off, and almost at once he came to a folded bit of paper.Perhaps this was the prescription? He opened it, and this is what heread:--
March 12, 1919. This is the happiest day of my life. One of my godmothers has died and left me L50. I am going to buy two nanny-goats, a boy and a girl. They will have kids, and I shall make munny. We shall then have a propper cook, and I shall never help Betty wash up any more. I wish my other godmother would die. She is very genrus and kind--she would go strait to Heaven. But she is very hellfy.
Poor little Timmy! Dear little unscrupulous child of nature! Would Timmywish him, Godfrey Radmore, dead, if some accident were to reveal to himwhat a great difference it would make to them all? He hoped not. But hecouldn't feel sure, for, from being well-to-do the Tosswills must havebecome poor, painfully and, to his mind, unnaturally poor.
Further search proved the prescription was not in the play-box, and hewent downstairs. Still that same unnatural silence through the house.Where could Timmy be? Somehow he felt that he wanted to see Timmy andfind out about the nanny-goats. He feared his godson's expectations ofwealth had not been fulfilled, but he supposed that there was a "proppercook," probably the lack of her had been quite temporary.
He wandered into the drawing-room. In the old days all five sitting-roomshad been in use. Now four of them were closed, and the drawing-room waseverybody's meeting place. Dolly was there working a carpet-sweeperlanguidly.
"Where's everybody?" he asked.
"I think Betty and Timmy are still in the scullery. I don't know whereRosamund is."
"I suppose _I_ can go into the scullery?"
She looked at him dubiously. "Yes, if you'd like to--certainly. Bettyloves cooking and all that sort of thing. I hate it--so in our divisionof labour, I do the other kind of housework." She looked ruffled and hetold himself, a little maliciously, that she was not unlike a lazy,rather incompetent, housemaid. "If it's Timmy you want," she continued,"I'll go and see if he can come."
"Please don't trouble. I'll find him all right."
Radmore went out into the passage. As the baize door, which shut off thekitchen quarters, opened, he saw his godson and Rosamund before they sawhim, and he heard Rosamund say, in a cross tone: "It only means thatsomeone else will have to help her; I think it's very selfish of you,Timmy."
From being full of joy Timmy's face became downcast and sullen.
"Hullo!" Radmore called out, "I want you to show me the garden, Timmy.Where's Betty?"
"She's in the scullery, of course. I tell you I _have_ done, Rosamund.You _are_ a cruel pig--"
"Come, Timmy, don't speak to your sister like that."
It ended in the three of them going off--Rosamund to look for theprescription, and the other two into the garden.
* * * * *
Nanna waddled into the scullery: "I'll wipe up them things, MissBetty," she said good-naturedly; "you go out to Mr. Godfrey and MasterTimmy--they was asking for you just now."
Betty hesitated--and then suddenly she made up her mind that, yes, shewould do as Nanna suggested.
In early Victoria
n days women of Betty Tosswill's class and kind workedmany of their most anxious thoughts and fears, hopes and fancies, intothe various forms of needlework which were then considered the onlysuitable kind of occupation for a young gentlewoman; and often Betty,when engaged on the long and arduous task of washing up for her bigfamily party, pondered over the problems and secret anxieties whichassailed her. Though something of a pain, it had also been to her a greatrelief to realise that the living flesh and blood Godfrey Radmore ofto-day had ousted the passionately devoted, if unreasonable and violent,lover of her early girlhood. In the old days, intermingled with her deeplove of Radmore, there had been a protective, almost maternal, feeling,and although Radmore had been four years older than herself, she hadalways felt the older of the two. But now, in spite of the responsible,anxious work she had done in France during the War, she felt that theroles were reversed, and that her one-time lover had become infinitelyolder than she was herself in knowledge of the world.
Old Nanna hoped that Miss Betty would go upstairs and change her plaincotton dress for something just a little prettier and that she would puton, maybe, a hat trimmed with daisies which Nanna admired. But Betty didnothing of the sort. She washed her hands at the sink, and then she wentout into the hall, and taking up her big plain old garden hat wentstraight out into the keen autumnal air.
And then, as she caught sight of the tall man and of the little boy,she stayed her steps, overwhelmed by a flood of both sweet and bittermemories.
During the year which had followed the breaking of her engagement therehad been corners and by-ways of the big, rambling old garden filled withpoignant, almost unbearable, associations of the days when she andGodfrey had been lovers. There had been certain nooks and hidden oaseswhere it had been agony to go. She had considered all kinds of things asbeing possible. Perhaps her most certain conviction had been that hewould come back some day with a wife whom she, Betty, would try to teachherself to love; but never had she visioned what had now actuallyoccurred, that is Radmore's quiet, commonplace falling-back into theday-to-day life of Old Place.
All at once she heard Timmy's clear treble voice:--"Hullo! There'sBetty."
Radmore turned and said something Betty did not hear, and the child wentoff like an arrow from the bow. Then Radmore, turning, came towards herquickly. She had no clue to the strange look of pain and indecision onhis face, and her heart began to beat, strangely.
When close to her:--"Betty," he said in a low voice, "I want to tell youthat I didn't know about George till last night. How could you think Idid?"
"I suppose one does think unjust things when one's in great trouble," sheanswered.
He felt hurt and angry and showed it. "I should have thought you wouldall have known me well enough to know that I should have written atonce--at once. Why, the whole world's altered now that I know that Georgeis no longer in it! Perhaps that sounds foolish and exaggerated, as Inever wrote to him. But I think _you'll_ know what I mean, Betty? It wasall right, as long as I knew he was somewhere, happy."
She said almost inaudibly:--"I think that he is happy somewhere. Youknow--but no, you don't know--that George was a born soldier. Thosemonths after he joined up, and until he was killed, were, I do believe,by far the happiest of his life. He always said they were."
As he made no answer she went on:--"I'll show you some of his lettersif you like, and father will show you the letters that were sent tous--afterwards."
By now they had left the garden proper, and were walking down an avenuewhich was known as the Long Walk. It was here that they two, with Georgealways as a welcome third, used to play "tip and run" and "hide and seek"with the then little children.
"Tell me something about the others," he said abruptly. "I'm moving in aworld unrealised."
She smiled up into his face. Somehow that confession touched her, andbrought them nearer to one another.
"Jack frightens me a bit, you know--he's so unlike George. And then thegirls? Is it true what Timmy says--that Rosamund wants to be an actress?"
There was a slight tone of censorious surprise in his voice, and Bettyreddened.
"I don't see why she shouldn't be an actress if she wants to be! Father'smaking her wait till she's twenty-one."
"Let me see," he said hesitatingly, "Dolly's older than Jack, isn't she?"
"Oh, no. Dolly will only be twenty next Thursday."
There came over her an overwhelming impulse to tell him something--thesort of thing she could only have told George.
"You know that pretty old church at Oakford?"
He nodded.
"Well, Mr. Runsby is dead. They've got a bachelor clergyman now, andJanet and I think that he's becoming very fond of Dolly! He's away justnow, or you would have already seen him. He's very often over here."
"I should have thought--" He hesitated in his turn, but already he wasfalling again into the way of saying exactly what he thought right out toBetty--"that with you and Rosamund in the house, no one would look atDolly!"
Betty blushed, and for a fleeting moment Godfrey saw the blushing,dimpling Betty of long ago.
"Rosamund has the utmost contempt for him. As for me, he never seesme--I'm always in the kitchen when he comes here." She added with a touchof the quiet humour he remembered, "I don't think Dolly's in any dangerfrom me!"
"_Why_ are you always in the kitchen, Betty?" he asked. "Is it reallynecessary?"
"Yes, it really is necessary," she answered frankly. "Father's got muchpoorer, and everything's about a hundred times as dear as it was beforethe War. But you mustn't think that I mind. I like it in a way--and itwon't last for ever. Some of father's investments are beginning torecover a little even now, and prices are coming down--"
They had now come back to the garden end of the Long Walk. "I must gonow," she said. "Would you like me to send out one of the girls toentertain you?"
He shook his head. "No, I think I'll stroll about the village for a bit."
They both felt as if the first milestone of their new relationship hadbeen set deep in the earth, and both were glad and relieved that it wasso.
Radmore walked about a bit, admiring Janet's autumnal herbaceous borders,and then he remembered a door that he had known of old which led from thebig kitchen garden into the road. If it was open he could step outwithout walking across the front of the house.
He turned into the walled garden, and walked quickly down a well-keptpath past the sun-dial to the door. It was open. He walked through it,and then, with a rather guilty feeling--a feeling he did not care toanalyse--he made his way round the lower half of the village till hereached the outside wall of The Trellis House.
There he hesitated for a few moments, but even while he was hesitating heknew that he would go in. Before he could turn the handle the door in thegarden wall was opened by Enid Crofton herself. Radmore was surprised tosee that she was dressed in a black dress, with the orthodox plain linencollar and cuffs of widowhood. It altered her strangely.
He was at once disappointed and a little relieved also, to find JackTosswill in the garden with her. But soon the three went indoors, andthen, as had often been Mrs. Crofton's experience with admirers in thepast, each man tried to sit the other out.
At last the hostess had to say playfully:--"I'm afraid I must turn youout now, for I'm expecting my sister-in-law, Miss Crofton."
And then they both, together, took their departure; Radmore feeling thathe had wasted an hour which might have been so very much more profitablyspent in going to see some of his old friends among the cottagers. As toJack Tosswill, he felt perplexed, and yes, considerably put out andannoyed. He had been a good deal taken aback to see how close was theacquaintance between Mrs. Crofton and Godfrey Radmore.