CHAPTER IXTHE NEW CHAUFFEUR
Asthe new arrival wandered up the street, and inspected the village, he had been under the impression that the place was deserted—he scarcely saw a soul; but this was the way of Ottinge folk, they spent most of their time (especially of an evening) indoors, and though he was not aware of it, Ottinge had inspected him! Girls sewing in windows, men lounging in the Drum, women shutting up their fowl, all had noted the stranger, and wondered who this fine, tall young gentleman might be? An hour later they were amazed to learn that he was no more and no less than the Parretts’ new chauffeur, who was lodging with Sally Hogben—Sally, who could talk faster and tell more about a person in five minutes than another in twenty. This intelligence—which spread as water in a sponge—created a profound sensation, and shared the local interest with the news of the sudden death of Farmer Dunk’s best cow.
The following morning it was the turn of the chauffeur to be surprised. When he repaired to the Manor, to report himself and ask for orders, he encountered Miss Parrett herself in the hall, who informed him, in her shrillest bleat, that as she did not propose to use the car that day, and as there was nothing else for him to do, he could put in his time by cleaning windows. When Wynyard heard Miss Parrett’s order, his facehardened, the colour mounted to his forehead, and he was on the point of saying that he had been engaged as chauffeur, and not as charwoman; but a sharp mental whisper arrested the words on his lips:
“Are you going to throw up your situation within twenty-four hours, and be back on Leila’s hands after all the trouble she has taken for you?” demanded this peremptory voice. “You must begin at the bottom of the ladder if you want to get to the top. Let this old woman have her own way, and bully you—and if you take things quietly, and as they come, your affairs will mend.”
After what seemed to Miss Parrett a most disrespectful silence, during which she glared at Owen with her little burning eyes, and mumbled with her toothless jaws, he said slowly—
“All right, ma’am. I’ve never cleaned windows yet, but I’ll do my best; perhaps you will give me something to clean them with?”
“Go through that door and you will find the kitchen,” said Miss Parrett. “The cook will give you cloths, soap, and a bucket of water. You may begin in the dining-room;” and pointing towards the servants’ quarters, she left him. As he disappeared, Susan, who had overheard the last sentence, boldly remonstrated—
“Really, Bella, that young man is not supposed to undertake such jobs! He was only engaged as chauffeur, and I’m sure if you set him to do housework, he will leave.”
“Let him, and mind your own business, Susan,” snapped her sister. “He is inmyemployment, and I cannot afford to pay him two guineas a week—six shillings a day—for doing nothing. I am not a millionaire! As it is, my hand is never out of my pocket.”
“But you engaged him to drive the car, and if you are afraid to go out in it, is that his fault?” argued Susan, with surprising courage.
“Who says I’m afraid?” demanded Miss Parrett furiously. “Susan, you forget yourself. I shall have the car to-morrow, and motor over to call on the Woolcocks.”
Meanwhile Owen passed into the back premises, which were old and spacious. Here, in a vast kitchen overlooking a great paved yard, he found a tall woman engaged in violently raking out the range. She started as he entered, and turned a handsome, ill-tempered face upon him.
“Can you let me have some cloths and a bucket of hot water?” he asked in his clear, well-bred voice.
“Yes, sir,” she answered, going to a drawer. “What sort of cloths—flannels or rubbers?”
“Something for cleaning windows.”
“Oh, laws, so you’re the new chauffeur! Well, I never!” And, leaving the drawer open, she turned abruptly, leant her back to the dresser, and surveyed him exhaustively.
He nodded.
“And so that’s the sort of work the old devil has set you to? Lady Kesters engaged me for this place, and by all accounts she did the same kindness by you and me! I understood as this was a proper establishment, with a regular housekeeper andmen—a butler at least and a couple of footmen; there isn’t as much as a page-boy. It’s a swindle! I suppose you take your meals with us?” (Here, with an animated gesture, she dismissed an inquisitive kitchen-maid.)
“No; I board myself.”
Her face fell. This good-looking chauffeur wouldbe some one to flirt with, and her voice took a yet sharper key.
“You’re from London, I can see, and so am I. Lord! this is a change”—now casting herself into a chair. “Ye see, I was ordered country air, and so I came—the wages being fair, and assistance given; and thinking we were in a park, I brought my bicycle, and expecting there’d be some society, I brought a couple of ball-gowns, and find this!” and her expression was tragic.
“Have you been here long?” he asked civilly.
“Two weeks too long. I give notice next day, and am going at the month, and you won’t be long after me,Ibet! Do you bike?”
“No,” he answered rather shortly.
“Well, anyway, you’ve the use of your legs! To-morrow is my evening out, so you come round here at five, and I’ll give you a nice cup o’ tea, and we’ll go for a stroll together. Weoughtto be friendly, seeing as we both come from Lady Kesters’ recommendation.”
To walk out with the cook! This was ten times worse than window-cleaning! Wynyard was beating his brain for some civil excuse when Miss Parrett herself appeared in the doorway—an accusing and alarming figure.
“This is a nice way you waste my time!” she exclaimed, with an angry glance at both. “You and cook gossiping together and idling. Where are the cloths and the hot water, young man?”
The cook, grumbling audibly and insolently, went back to the dresser, and Miss Parrett, with folded arms, waited dramatically in the kitchen till Wynyard was provided for. He then walked off with a brief “Thank you” to his fellow-culprit. As he passed along the flagged passage he caught Miss Parrett’s shrill voice saying—
“Now, I’ll not have you flirting with that young man, so I warn you! I’ll have no carryings-on inmyhouse.”
Then a door was slammed with thunderous violence, and there was silence.
No, by Jove, he could not stand it, he said to himself as he set down his bucket, and wrung out a cloth; like the cook, he, too, would depart, and in his next situation stipulate for no women. Of course Leila would be disappointed, and he was sorry; but Leila would never ask him to put up withthis! He would give a week’s notice and advertise; he had enough money to keep him going for a while, and his certificate.
Presently he set to work on the dining-room, where there were three old casemented, mullioned windows; to clean these he stood on the lawn, and had begun his job when Miss Susan entered, smiling and radiating good humour.
“I dare say you don’t know much about this sort of work,” she began apologetically, “and I’ll just show you! You have to use lots of clean water, and stand outside on the lawn—no fear of breaking your neck.” Then in another tone she added, “I’ll see you are not asked to do this again; at present we are rather short-handed, but by and by everything will go smoothly.” She was about to add something more, when her sister put her head in at the door, and called out—
“Now, do come away, Susan, and don’t stand gossiping with the young man, and idling him at his work. He has wasted half an hour with the cook already!”
Wynyard, as he rubbed away at the panes, whistled gaily whilst his mind dwelt on many matters, amongst others of how strange that he should be down in thisqueer, God-forsaken village, living in a labourer’s cottage, and employed in cleaning windows! Well, he had Miss Susan’s word for it that he would not be asked to do it again; she was a good sort, with a nice, cheery face, and such a pair of twinkling blue eyes. Then he thought of the tragic cook, also sent by Leila, and he laughed aloud. The house wanted a lot of servants, and as far as he could gather the staff was short-handed; probably Miss Aurea would see to all this, since she managed every one in Ottinge, did as she liked, and was the prettiest girl within ten parishes!
Wynyard was a handy man, and got through his work rapidly and well. He fetched many cans of water, and presently moved on to the drawing-room—another low room with heavily beamed ceiling and a polished oak floor. The apartment was without carpet or curtains, and scantily furnished with various old chairs, settees and cabinets, ranged against the wall. He was sitting outside on the sill, whistling under his breath, polishing his last casement, when he heard, through the half-open door, a clear young voice talking with animation, and a girl came into the room laughing—followed by an Aberdeen terrier on a leash. As she advanced, he noticed that she had wild rose colouring, wavy dark hair, merry dark eyes, and an expression of radiant vitality. Tom was right! Here, no doubt, was Miss Aurea, the prettiest girl in ten parishes!
As Wynyard looked again at this arresting vision something strange seemed to stir in his heart and come to life. First impressions have a value distinct from the settled judgment of long experience.
“What a floor, Susie!” exclaimed the young lady. “Really, we must get Aunt Bella to give a dance;” and as she spoke she began to hum the “Merry WidowWaltz,” and to execute some remarkably neat steps, accompanied by the terrier, who struggled round in her wake, barking indignantly.
“Mackenzie, youarean odious partner!” addressing the animal; then to her aunt, “I’ve brought him on the chain, and he has me on the chain; he is so strong! We have accosted and insulted every single village dog, and frightened Mrs. Watkins’ cats into hysterics! However, he can’t get loose and murder poor gentlemanly Joss! Oh, we little knewwhatwe were doing when we accepted Mac as a darling puppy!”
“I must confess that I never care for these aggressive, stiff-necked Aberdeens, and I don’t pretend to like Mac. To tell you the honest truth, I’m mortally afraid of him!”
“But he must be exercised, Susan. And now we must exercise ourselves, and begin on this room. I’ve sent over the curtains, and they are ready to go up.”
Suddenly she noticed the stranger, who was polishing a distant window. “Why, I thought it was Hogben!” she muttered. “Who is it, Susie?” and she looked over at Wynyard with an air of puzzled interest.
“The new chauffeur, my dear,” was the triumphant response. “He only came yesterday; his name is Owen.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the girl, turning her back to the window and speaking in a low voice. “And didn’t heobject?”
“No; but I fancy he doesn’t like it. He seems a nice civil young fellow. Lady Kesters found him for us.”
“Did she? I sincerely hope he is a better find than the cook. What a fury! Even Aunt Bella is afraid of her!”
“She has a splendid character from her late mistress.”
“I dare say, in order to pass her on at any price. She’s a first-rate cook, but a regular demon.”
“My dear, they all have tempers—it’s the fire, poor things. Now, about the chauffeur——”
At this moment the object of her conversation threw up the sash and stepped into the room—a fine figure in his clean blue shirt, turned up to the elbows, well-cut breeches, and neat leather leggings.
“I’ve finished this room, miss,” he said, addressing himself to Miss Susan. “What am I to do next?” and his eyes rested upon her with respectful inquiry.
“No more windows to-day, thank you, Owen. I expect it is nearly your dinner-hour.”
“Shall you require the car this afternoon, miss?”
“No; but it will certainly be wanted to-morrow,—eh, Aurea?”
“Then I’d better take her out and give her a turn;” and with this remark he picked up his bucket and rags, and walked out of the room.
During this brief conversation, Aurea stood by listening with all her ears, and making mental notes. Her aunt’s new chauffeur, with his clean, tanned, high-bred face, spoke like an educated man.
“My dear Susie,” she inquired, “where did Lady Kesters get hold of such a superior person?”
“I’m sure I can’t tell you. She said she had known his family all her life, and that they were most respectable people. Chauffeurs are supposed to be smart, and well-groomed, eh?”
Yes, but there was more than this about the late window-cleaner—something in his gait, carriage, and voice, and, unless she was greatly mistaken, the new employé was a gentleman; but with unusual prudence Aurea contrived to keep her suspicion to herself. Aloud she said—
“Well, now, let us see about the carpet! This roomought to be settled at once—pictures up, and curtains; there’s no place to ask visitors into, and you’ve been here six months. You are lazy, Miss Susan Parrett—thisissleepy hollow.”
“Oh, my dear child, you know perfectly well it’s your Aunt Bella; and she won’t make up her mind. What’s done one day is taken down another. Whatisthat awful row?”
“It’s Mackenzie and Joss,” cried Aurea, dashing towards the door. Mackenzie, at large and unnoticed, had stealthily followed the chauffeur out of the room, and stolen a march upon his deadly enemy—Miss Parrett’s impudent and interloping mongrel. The result of this dramatic meeting was a scene in the hall, where Miss Parrett, mounted on a chair, looked on, uttering breathless shrieks of “Aurea! Aurea! it’s allyourfault!” whilst round and round, and to and fro, raged the infuriated animals, snarling and growling ferociously, their teeth viciously fastened in each other’s flesh.
Mackenzie, the more experienced, able-bodied, and malevolent of the two, had Joss by the throat—Joss, for his part, was steadily chewing through Mackenzie’s fore-leg.
Here Wynyard came to the rescue, and, though severely bitten, succeeded after some difficulty in separating the combatants; he and Miss Aurea somehow managed it between them, but he had borne the brunt of the fray, the forefront of the battle.
A good deal of personal intimacy is involved in such encounters, and by the time the panting Mackenzie was hauled away by the collar, and the furious Joss had been incarcerated in the dining-room, the new chauffeur and Miss Morven were no longer strangers.