CHAPTERVII.
AsNell walked back to Panty-cuckoo alone (for she would not let Hugh accompany her) she could not decide if she were pleased or sorry at what had taken place between them. Certainly she did not realise it. She was as much Lord Ilfracombe’s widow as she had been on setting out, and did not feel like the betrothed of anybody. But one thing did seem to pleaseher—theidea of leaving England and all its sad associations behind, and going to a new country, to live amidst new surroundings and new people. Her heart had been growing faint and sick with England for a long time past. To go to South Africa; to sail on the sea; to see the wondrous vegetation that adornsit—thehedges of cacti, the bowersof orange-trees, the ostriches and the gorillas; all the wonders, in fact, of which she had read in the books which Hugh had lenther—thiswas what she thought of most as she wended her way slowly homewards. If an occasional remembrance struck her that they could not be enjoyed without the accompaniment of Hugh’s society she put it from her with a slight frown, and fell to thinking of the other instead. Hugh had said he would not worry her; that she should do exactly as she pleased; that he would ask nothing from her till she was ready to grant it; and Hugh was a man of his word. He would not say one thing and do another. She was quite safe with him. They would go out to Africa together, and whilst he taught the men and preached to them she would be kind and helpful to the mothers and the little black children, and show them how to make their clothes, and take care of their health, and cook their food. She pictured herself clad in a white dress, with a broad straw hat on,walking amongst her sable sisters, nursing them when they were sick, or joining in their merry-makings and festivities. She could better forget there, Nell said to herself, than in a country that reminded her at every turn of what she had lost. And Hugh was very good to her, there was no doubt of that, and would guard and protect her from further evil till her life’s end. He knew her secret, and he did not despise her for it, that was more than she could say for anybody else. Even the servants in Grosvenor Square, over whom she had reigned supreme, had shown her, but too plainly, as soon as they dared, that they considered her a little lower than themselves. She dared not think what her father and mother and Hetty would say if they were made cognisant of the truth. Nell knew her parents’ strict ideas on propriety too well. Her mother would upbraid her for having brought the first shame into their virtuous family—her father would, in all probability, turn her out of the house, and tell her herpresence contaminated both her mother and her sister. The poor, when virtuous, are very virtuous indeed. They cannot understand the temptations of the upper classes and those who are thrown in contact with them, because they are not subjected to the same themselves. What working man has the leisure to go after his neighbour’s wife? When his day’s labour is over he is too tired to go courting, to say nothing of the fact that his neighbour’s task is over at the same time, and he is keeping safe guard over his sheepfold. No, her own people would show no sympathy for her disgrace! Nell was quite aware of that. Hugh, who was so good himself and a minister of the gospel, was the only one she would have dared tell her story to, and he could so far overlook it as to wish to make her his wife. She owed Hugh something, and some day, perhaps, she might repay the debt. At present, however, what had passed between them was to remain with themselves. She had made him promise that.She felt if it were made public property she could never get out of it again. What with the Owens and the Llewellyns she would be forced into a marriage, to think of which made her shudder. Things must go on exactly as usual, till she knew what was going to happen at Panty-cuckoo Farm, and then, if her father decided to emigrate (which was by no means likely at present), it would be time for her to make up her mind. Meanwhile, it all seemed a long way off, and Nell felt easier for the concession she had accorded Hugh. She had experienced so many qualms as to whether she had been wise in placing confidence in him, but now there was no doubt that he would respect her secret for his own sake as well as hers. So she went back to Panty-cuckoo Farm in better spirits than she had displayed for some time past, and found her mother in close converse with Mrs Hody, the housekeeper from Usk Hall. The two women had tea spread before them, and were evidently going in for a regular ‘confab.’
‘Going to raise the rents again,’ old Mrs Hody was saying as Nell walked into the room. ‘Well, I never. I wonder Mr Bastian, the steward, didn’t tell me of it. I expect he was too much ashamed. Not that it’s his doing, poor man. He can only follow the master’s lead. But, dear me, Mrs Llewellyn, it’s easy to guess who is at the bottom of it. It’s my lady’s high jinks and no mistake. It would take twice Sir Archibald’s money to cover them. Now, there’s all new papering to be put up in the bedrooms. I’m sure the paper was good enough for anybody. It’s not been up more than a couple o’ years, but there’s to be a grand party at the hall this summer, and I suppose nothing is too good for ’em.’
‘When are the family coming home, Mrs Hody?’ asked Nell.
‘Next month, my lass, and you’d better get your best gowns ready, for there’s to be a power of young gentlemen with them and no mistake. I’ve just been talking to your mother here about her rooms. I wishshe could let us have the use of four, just for a month or two, for where I’m to put them all I don’t know.’
‘But it is impossible, Mrs Hody, or I’d willingly oblige you. But you know I couldn’t do it even before my Nell came home, and it is more impossible than ever now.’
‘I could lend you the furniture,’ said the housekeeper, coaxingly, ‘if that’s the obstacle. We’ve got enough stowed away at the top of the house to furnish five or six rooms. We make up sixteen beds ourselves, but they’ll be all full. Whatever they can want with such a heap of guests beats me. I’ve been up the village this afternoon to see if the Wilkins’ or Turners’ girls were at home, for we shall want extra help, but, like my luck, they’re all in service.’
‘Perhaps our Nell here might be of use to you, Mrs Hody,’ interposed Mrs Llewellyn. ‘She’s been used to service, you know, and I guess she’s a good hand at it. What say, Nell? Will ye go up tothe Hall and help Mrs Hody when the folks arrive?’
Nell grew scarlet. What if some of the ‘folks’ should have seen her in London and recognise her!
‘Oh, no, mother,’ she exclaimed, shrinking back, ‘I couldn’t! I don’t know enough about it. I’ve never been in any place, remember, except in the nursery and then as housekeeper. I have never done any housework or cooking.’
Mrs Hody looked at the girl’s beautiful face suspiciously.
‘You’re very young for a housekeeper, especially since you can have had no previous experience. Who engaged you for the place?’
‘Lord Ilfracombe,’ replied Nell timidly—she always became timid when the earl was alluded to.
‘And what aged man was he, my dear?’ continued Mrs Hody.
‘Oh, I don’tknow—somewherebetween twenty and thirty, I suppose; quite young, of course, but I hardly ever saw him. He was often absent from home.’
‘And how did the servants like taking their orders from such a lass as you? Didn’t they give you trouble sometimes?’ went on her inquisitor.
‘Oh, no, they were all old servants. They knew their duty,’ said Nell confusedly, and then she added, to hide her embarrassment,—‘But do tell me, Mrs Hody, the names of some of the visitors you are expecting. It is such an event to see strangers in Usk. Are there lords and ladies amongst them?’
‘Lords and ladies, my dear. Why, they’re most all lords and ladies this time, asked on purpose to meet a royal prince, who has condescended to stay for a week with Sir Archibald. Lor’! what a fuss my lady will make over him, to be sure. I expect she’s half wild with joy that he is coming. And there’ll be more cards and high play than ever, I suppose, and turning night into day, as I’ve just been telling your good mother. No one in bed till two or three in the morning, and candles left guttering all over the tablecloths, andwine spilt over the carpets, and there—it makes me sick to talk of it. I do declare if the play goes on this time as it did last year, I shall give Sir Archibald warning. It’s scandalous! I did hear as one poorman—CaptainTrelany was his name—was quite ruined by it, and has been obliged to sell out of his regiment in consequence and go abroad. Such a wicked thing for a man of Sir Archibald’s age to encourage in his house, but there! it’s allherfault. She don’t go on a bit like a married lady, and I don’t care who hears me say so. A running after gents as she does, screaming and laughing like a schoolgirl, and driving over the place like a mad woman. I’m sure I wish sometimes I’d never set eyes on her face.’
‘Ah, I’m glad our Nell has nothing to do with such,’ said Mrs Llewellyn, ‘for it must be a bad example for a young girl. My daughters have been brought up steady and respectable, and if I thought they would ever take to such ways, it would break my heart.’
‘What gentlemen are you going to send to mother, Mrs Hody?’ said Nell to turn the conversation.
‘I don’t know yet, my dear, but they are sure to be bachelors, so don’t you listen to any nonsense they may say to you. Young gentlemen are not half particular enough in these days. They talk a lot of rubbish to a pretty girl and mean nothing by it, whilst she maybe takes it all for gospel truth, and cries her eyes out when she finds it was only their fun. Men always have been took, and always will be took by a pretty face to the end of time, and think it’s an honour for any poor girl to receive notice from them; but don’t you believe nothing they may say to you, Nell, for gentlemen marry for money now-a-days and nothing else it strikes me.’
But at this adjuration Mrs Llewellyn ruffled up her feathers like an old hen when her chickens are attacked.
‘You needn’t come for to give suchadvice to any girl of mine, Mrs Hody!’ she exclaimed, quite hotly, ‘for it isn’t needed. Believe any rubbish a gentleman born might say to her! I should think not, indeed. Nell is much too sensible for that. She knows that gentleman’s compliments mean no good for poor girls, and would not encourage such a thing for a moment. My lasses are not like the Simpsons, Mrs Hody, nor yet the Manleys. They’ve never been allowed to run loose for anyone to talk to, but been reared in a God-fearing way and taught that His eye is on them everywhere. There’s no occasion for you to caution them. I can assure you, I would rather see Nell stretched dead at my feet, than think her capable of such folly. Why, who knows what it might lead to? Gentlemen have flattering tongues sometimes for country girls, and put all sorts of silly ideas into their heads. If I thought our Nell would even speak to such lodgers as you may choose to send us, Mrs Hody, I wouldn’t let my roomsto you, not if you gave me ten pounds a week for them, there!’
And Mrs Llewellyn, quite exhausted by her efforts, stopped talking and wiped her steaming face with her apron.
‘Oh, mother, dear, why make so much of it?’ said Nell, with cheeks of crimson. ‘I am sure Mrs Hody never thought that I or Hetty would behave ourselves in an unseemly way with your lodgers. It was only a kindly caution on her part. And you need have no fear for me, believe me.’
‘No, indeed, Mrs Llewellyn,’ interposed the housekeeper, anxious to make peace with her hostess, ‘I only put in my little word on account of your Nell here being so handsome, and I, knowing but too well what some of the gentlemen as come to the Hall are. Why, didn’t one of ’em wrong poor little Katie Brown only last autumn twelvemonth, stuffing the poor child’s head up with some nonsense about marriage not being necessary, and that he’d stick toher all his life, and then going off when the shooting was over and leaving her with a baby at her back. Tom Brown was after bringing an action against the gentleman—Mr Frank Leyton, it was—and getting some money out of him for his daughter’s shame; but the lawyer advised him not, for there was no evidence except Katie’s word, and that wouldn’t be enough in a court of justice, he said. I’ve taken good care not to have any pretty girls about the Hall since, and if your Nell had come up to help me, I would have kept her out of their way, for such a set of unprincipled vagabonds I never see before!’
‘No, thank you, Mrs Hody,’ replied Mrs Llewellyn, grandly, ‘no amount of wages would make me send a girl of mine up to the Hall after what you’ve told me. My daughters have been very humbly born and bred, but they are good, virtuous lassies, though, perhaps, I should not be the one tosay it. It would break my heart if I could think them capable of taking up with folks as never meant to marry them, and as for their father, well, I do believe he’d take a gun and shoot ’em if he knew of it. So, our Nell, she’ll keep down at Panty-cuckoo, if you please, whilst your family’s at home, and do her duty by keeping the lodgers’ rooms clean and tidy, instead of making the acquaintance of their occupants.’
‘There, there, mother, say no more about it, pray!’ cried Nell in real distress, as she carried off the tea-tray in order to hide her burning cheeks.
It was such conversations as these that made her fearful to think what might happen if her secret ever became known to her parents; which made her contemplate the thought of South Africa with something very much like gratitude, and even remember the condition attached to it without a shudder. She had quite made up her mind by this time that she should never seethe Earl of Ilfracombe again. She had never heard him mention Usk, nor even Wales. It was not likely, in her simple ideas, that he would ever find his way there; she thought that they were as widely separated as if the sea divided them. She had but two alternatives—either to end her days at Panty-cuckoo Farm, in the maddeningly quiet manner she was passing them now, or to become Hugh Owen’s wife and go away with him, far, far from everything that could possibly remind her of the happy, thoughtless time she had believed would never end; and, of the two, the last appeared to be the best to her. Yet not without her parents. That was, of course, plainly understood between Hugh and herself. But her father still talked despondingly of his prospects, and of the ultimate necessity of his making some change, and Nell seemed to see the future looming before her, even though it was as yet no larger than a man’s hand. Hugh Owen had resumedhis visits to the farm, much to the content of Mrs Llewellyn, and, sometimes, he and Nell took a stroll together in the summer evenings. Only as friends, though. Notwithstanding the half promise she had made him, Nell would not permit him to consider himself anything more than her friend until the matter was finally settled between them, and the young man was quite content it should be so. Perhaps he required a little time also, to recover the great shock experienced on hearing Nell’s story, and preferred to gain her complete confidence and friendship before asking for any closer privilege. But he was happy in knowing that she trusted him, and never doubted but that the end for both of them would be a perfect union.
So the time went on until May was over, and Mrs Hody announced that she would require Mrs Llewellyn’s bedrooms for two gentlemen on the following day. The task of preparing them was confided to Nell. There was norough work to bedone—MrsLlewellyn’s rooms being always kept in spick-and-span order—but the linen sheets had to be taken out of the old walnut-wood press, where they had lain for the last year between sprigs of sweet lavender, and aired before the kitchen fire, and the creases ironed out before they were put upon the beds. Then the fair white toilet-covers, trimmed with lace made by the farmer’s great-grandmother, were spread upon the dressing-tables and chest of drawers, and every speck of dust flicked off the polished furniture. Clean lace curtains were hung before the windows, about which clambered the honeysuckles and roses, which poor Nell used to see in her London dreams, and before which lay the beds of flowers which adorned the side of the farmhouse. These two rooms, as has been said before, lay apart from the rest of the domain, and opened into the bricked passage at the back of the parlour. They had a little private entranceof their own, and, when they were occupied, the lodgers were allowed to come in and out as they chose. This was absolutely necessary with the guests of Sir Archibald Bowmant, as the revelries of Usk Hall were kept up so late, that the Llewellyns could not possibly have sat up for them. So, in that primitive place, where latch-keys were unknown and robbery was unheard of, the simple farmers left their side-door unfastened, and scarcely ever set eyes on their lodgers. When the two sleeping chambers were clad in their white adornments, Nell fancied they looked too cold and colourless, so she fetched some old-fashioned vases of blue china from her mother’s store closet, and filled them with roses and lilies, overshadowed by graceful branches of crimson fuchsias and tufts of sword grass. She placed one upon each toilet-table, and heaved a sigh to see how pure and sweet and clean the rooms looked, like an unstained conscience in the bosom of a child.
‘Nell! Nell!’ called her mother, from the parlour, ‘open the side-door, there’s a good lass. There’s one of the Hall gardeners bringing over the gentlemen’s luggage.’
Nell did as she was desired, and encountered a man with some portmanteaus, and bags and plaids in a wheelbarrow standing outside the door.
‘These are the things, miss, of the gents as is to sleep here,’ he said.
‘All right. Bring them in,’ was the reply.
The man brought the articles in, one by one, on his shoulders, and heaped them all down in the first room.
‘But stay!’ exclaimed Nell, ‘some must go in the other room. What are the gentlemen’s names?’
‘Sure, I don’t know, miss. All I was told was to bring the luggage over here.’
Nell examined the portmanteaus first. On one were the initials M. L., on the other J. S. P. One bag had M. L. onit, the other was blank. The two bundles of plaids and umbrellas were not addressed at all.
‘Take that portmanteau and that bag,’ said Nell, intimating the two marked M. L. ‘into the next room, and leave the others here. The gentlemen can sort their own plaids when they come.’
The man did as she told him, and withdrew, as Mrs Llewellyn came bustling into the room to see if the luggage betokened wealth or not.
‘Nice portmantles, ain’t they, Nell?’ she remarked, as she examined the locks and leather. ‘Lor’! what a lot of money young gentlemen do spend on themselves. M. L. I fancy I’ve seen him before. I think that must be Mr Martin Lennox, who was down the year before last. Such a nice, free-spoken young man, and will be an earl some day they told me. J. S. P.,’ she went on, looking at the other portmanteau, ‘I’ve never seen that before. I wonder what it standsfor—J. S. P.’
‘What letters did you say?’ asked Nell curiously.
‘J. S. P., my dear. John something, I suppose. However, it don’t matter to us, so long as they don’t make too much noise when they come home at night. There was one gentleman we had once who was dreadful. He wasn’t content with singing all sorts of songs as soon as he got into his room, but he must go for dancing, and he used to make such a row and keep it up so late, that at last father and I could stand it no longer, and were obliged to speak to Sir Archibald. There was no rest for anyone, and when you have to be up at five o’clock, that’s no joke. So Sir Archibald was very good about it, and sent us a quieter gentleman instead.’
But Nell had heard nothing of her mother’s discourse. She was kneeling down by the portmanteau marked J. S. P., and examining it all over.
‘What do you see there, my lass?’ said Mrs Llewellyn. ‘What’s the matter with it? Anything gone wrong?’
‘No, mother,nothing—nothing,’ replied the girl, as she rose to her feet again.
She was wondering what there was in the stranger’s portmanteau that seemed so familiar toher—whereshe could have seen itbefore—forwhat name the initials J. S. P. stood? The intermediate letter prevented her grasping the truth at once. She had never associated it with the other two. But something about the luggage seemed to bring an old memory with it, and made her feel uneasy. Could it possibly belong to someone whom she had met in Grosvenor Square? or at Thistlemere?—anyone who might recognise her as having been in Lord Ilfracombe’s household? The thought made her turn cold with apprehension.
‘Both these bundles of shawls can’t belong to one gentleman, Nell,’ said her mother presently. ‘Come and take one into the other room. Ay, but that’s a beauty. And what a pretty plaid, too—green and orange and blue. Wouldn’t Ilike just such another to keep my feet warm when father drives me to market at Newport. Carry it carefully, lass. Don’t let the straps get loose, or maybe the gentleman will be annoyed.’
But Nell had already let the plaid of green and orange and blue fall to the ground. She recognised it now; she recognised the initials also. They both belonged to Mr John Portland. The thought made her head whirl. She sat down on the floor to recover herself.
‘Eh, Nell, my lass, but you’re faint,’ cried her mother. ‘Don’t sit on the bed, child, for mercy’s sake. You’ll ruin the look of the sheets; but get into the parlour as quick as you can. Why, what ails you? You were looking ever so well this morning.’
‘Yes, mother, and I’m all right now,’ said Nell, as she made an effort to raise herself. ‘The day’s warm, you know, and I’m only a little tired. I’ll be better when I’ve had my dinner. I don’t think there’s anything more to be done to the rooms now, so I’ll go and look after my own,’and so she escaped to the shelter of her bedroom. But when she had time to consider the scare she had received, she was ready to call herself a fool for having been frightened so easily.
‘The initials are certainly his,’ she thought, ‘and I’m almost sure he had a plaid something like that one; but, after all, I cannot be certain, and the initials J. P. might fit half a hundred names—John Platt, or James Philpott, or Joseph Plowden. It is silly of me to make sure they belong to Mr Portland until I have better proof. What should he be doing here in Usk? I never heard him mention the place, nor the name of Sir Archibald. I saw so much of him, they would have been sure to crop up some time or other. Oh, I have been frightening myself with a bogey. I am sure I have. How weak my nerves must have become. I was never like this in the old days,’ and Nell heaved a deep sigh as she spoke. Still, as the day drew to a close, and the owners of the portmanteausmight be expected to arrive at any moment to dress for dinner, she grew so nervous she could not stay in the house. The first person she encountered outside it was Hugh Owen, come to see if she would go for a country walk with him.
‘No,’ said Nell decidedly; ‘I can’t walk to-night. Mother wants me, and I have work to do indoors.’
‘Have you heard that all the company’s arrived at the Hall?’ demanded Hugh; ‘six carriages full, the gardener told me, and as many more expected to-morrow.’
‘Of course I know it,’ replied the girl petulantly; ‘we’ve two of them coming to sleep at the farm to-night. Do you know who they are?’
‘No, I heard no names, except those of Sir Archibald and Lady Bowmant. What is it that is keeping you indoors, Nell?’ asked Hugh.
‘Nothing that concerns you,’ she answered.
He looked surprised at her manner, but did not notice it openly.
‘I thought, if it wouldn’t take you long, you might come out a little later. A walk would do you good. You are looking very pale.’
‘No, I shall not go out this evening,’ she replied. ‘I’m tired, and want to be quiet and by myself.’
‘That means I’m to go then, dear,’ he said wistfully.
‘That’s as you please, Hugh. Mother’s indoors, and always glad to see you, you know that without my telling you, but I’m too busy to have any more time to spare. Good-night.’
She held out her hand to him in token of farewell, and he was fain to accept it and take his leave of her. But, intuitively, he felt more upset than the occasion demanded. He walked on further towards a neighbouring village, and did not return till an hour later. Then he distinguished in the gloaming a white dress cross the road, and gotowards the Hall by way of the fields. Hugh felt sure that the dress belonged to Nell, and yet she had told him she should not leave the farm that night. And what should she want up at the Hall, too, just as the family had returned to it, when she never went near Mrs Hody for weeks together when the house was empty. Hugh puzzled over this enigma for a long time without coming to a satisfactory solution, but he turned into Panty-cuckoo Farm just to see if his suspicion was correct. Meanwhile Nell was creeping up to the Hall by a back way to gain an audience of old Mrs Hody while the family was at dinner. She felt she must know the best, or the worst, before she slept that night.
‘Mrs Hody,’ she said, as she burst in upon that worthy, making a comfortable tea off all the tit-bits that came down from her master’s table, ‘mother sent me up to ask you if the gentlemen will take tea or coffee in the morning.’
‘Lor’! my dear, neither I should say. What will they want with troubling your mother about such things. If they’ve been used to it, her ladyship will order me to send it down for them from the Hall. I wonder whatever put such an idea into her head.’
‘Oh, she thought it best to make sure,’ replied the girl, ‘and please, what are their names?’
‘The gentlemen’s names? Why, one is the Honourable Mr Lennox, and the other is a Mr Portland.’
‘Portland?’ exclaimed Nell. ‘Are you sure?Portland?’
‘Yes, my girl, I’m quite sure. Mr John Portland, though I’ve never seen him at the Hall before. He comes from London, I believe. Sir Archibald’s always picking up strangers, and bringing them here to eat their heads off at his expense. Well, some folks have queer notions of pleasure. Haven’t they? Oh, you’re off. Well, give my respects to your mother, and tell her to mind andkeep all her spare cream and chickens for the Hall, for I’ll want everything she can send me.’
‘Yes, yes, I will tell her,’ replied Nell, in a muffled voice, as she turned away repeating in her inmost heart,—‘WhatshallI do? WhatshallI do?’
As she walked into the farm parlour, she encountered Hugh Owen, who looked at her through and through.
‘Well my lass,’ began Mrs Llewellyn, ‘here’s Hugh waiting for you, you see, so I’m glad you’re come. He’s been main patient, sitting here for the best part of an hour.’
‘Well, good-night,’ said Nell, making for the door that led to her chamber.
‘Why, won’t you stop and talk to him a bit now you have come?’ remonstrated her mother.
‘I have already told Hugh that I have no time for talking to him to-night,’ replied Nell, without arresting her footsteps.
‘And you told me, also, that you werenot going to leave the farm to-night, Nell,’ said the young man, with the least bit of reproach in his tone.
She turned round on him with unnecessary fierceness.
‘And what is it to you if I do or not? Are you my keeper? Am I obliged to account to you for my actions? My father and mother are the only people who have any right to find fault with me, or to regulate my goings-out or comings-in, and I do not hold myself responsible to anyone else. You are taking too much upon yourself, Hugh. For the future, I shall refuse to tell you anything.’
And she flew upstairs, leaving both her mother and Hugh Owen in a state of consternation at such an unusual exhibition of temper on her part.