CHAPTER XAS HANDY MAN
Thechauffeur was informed that there were no orders for the car the following morning, as “Miss Parrett was suffering from neuralgia in her face,” and also—though this was not mentioned in the bulletin—a sharp pain in her temper.
Aurea, an early visitor, radiating gaiety, was on this occasion unaccompanied by Mackenzie. Mackenzie, aged six years, was the village tyrant and dictator. He also had been accustomed to consider himself a dog of two houses—the Rectory and the Red Cottage; and when the Red Cottage had moved to the Manor, and installed an animal of low degree as its pet, he was naturally filled with wrath and resentment, and on two opportunities the intruder had narrowly escaped with many deep bites, and his life!
Aurea found her Aunt Bella trotting about the premises and passages, with the knitted hood over her head, and key-basket in hand.
“Not going out to-day!” she exclaimed; “but it’s lovely, Aunt Bella. The air is so deliciously soft—it would do you no end of good.”
“My dear Aurea,” she piped, “I know you don’t allow any one in Ottinge to call their soul their own, and I must ask you to leavememy body, and to be the best judge of my ailments—and state of health.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, Aunt Bella; I meant no harm. Well, then, if you are not going to use the car yourself, perhaps Susan and I could take it over to Westmere? The Woolcocks have a large house-party, and Joey and her husband are there.”
Miss Parrett closed her eyes tightly—a sure hoisting of the storm cone—and screwed up her little old face till it resembled an over-ripe cream cheese.
“Really, Aurea! I don’t know what the world is coming to! How dare you propose such a thing! Take out my car for the first time withoutme! But, of course, I know I’m only a cipher in my own house!”—an almost hourly complaint.
“But do think of the chauffeur, Aunt Bella; is he to have nothing to do?” Here this crafty girl touched a sensitive nerve—a responsive key.
“Plenty for him to do; there’s enough work in the house for twenty chauffeurs: unpacking the book boxes and china—never opened since your grandfather’s death—staining the floors, and putting up the curtains, and laying carpets. If you and Susanaregoing to settle the drawing-room at last, he may help you. I can’t spare Jones or Hogben from the garden.”
“Very well, we must have some one to lift the heavy things, and stand on ladders. Where is he?”
“Outside in the hall, awaiting my orders,” replied Miss Parrett, with magnificent dignity, folding her hands over what had once been a neat waist, but now measured thirty inches.
Yes, the chauffeur was in the hall, cap in hand, attended by the grateful Joss, and had overheard the foregoing conversation.
Miss Parrett came forth as she concluded her speech, and issued her commands.
“Owen, you are to help my sister and Miss Morven in settling the drawing-room. Be careful how you handle things, and don’t break anything; and you may have your dinner here for to-day, with the other servants.”
“Very good, ma’am,” he assented.
But with respect to dinner with the servants, it was really verybad. He would be compelled to fence with the London cook, and keep her and her civil proposals at arm’s length—no easy job!
From ten o’clock till half-past one, Wynyard spent an agreeable and busy time in the service of Miss Susan and her niece. His boast to his sister that he was “clever with his hands” was fully justified. He hung the chintz and white curtains with the skill of an upholsterer, he laid the dark blue felt on the floor, stretched it and nailed it neatly in its place, whilst Aurea stood by, and gave directions, and sometimes—such was her zeal—went down on her knees beside him, and pulled and dragged too, exertions which enabled her associate to realise the perfect curve of cheek and neck, and the faint perfume of her glorious hair!
And all this time industrious Miss Susan sewed on rings, fitted loose chintz covers, and talked incessantly. She did not appear to find the presence of the chauffeur the slightest restraint—indeed, he was so quiet and kept his personality so steadily in the background, that as aunt and niece chatted and conferred, measured and altered, they seemed to have entirely forgotten his existence, and as the old drawing-room was full of nooks, angles, and deep windows, he was not only out of mind, but also out of sight. Meanwhile, he enjoyed the rôle of audience, especially in listening to Miss Aurea! What a gay, light-hearted girl! And in her playful arguments with her aunt, he realised the delightful camaraderie thatexisted between them. Her chaff was so amusing that, although he was not included in the conversation, he often felt inclined to echo Miss Susan’s appreciative laugh. Never had he come across any one who had attracted him so much; the more he saw of Miss Morven the more he admired her! Possibly this was because for the last twelve months he had not been brought in contact with a happy, high-spirited English girl—or was it because in this out-of-the-world village he had met his fate?
As Wynyard hung curtains, and put in screws, he stole swift glances at Miss Susan’s busy helper, noticed her slim elegance, her infectious smile, and lovely face. It was a ridiculous, but absolutely true fact, that to see a really beautiful, charming, and unaffected girl, one must come to Ottinge-in-the-Marsh!
Meanwhile, as he worked in the background, he gathered up many crumbs of conversation, and scraps of family and local news. He learned that Mr. Morven’s great work onThe Mithraic Heresy and Its Oriental Originwas nearly complete, that the Manor cook had given notice, and that no one had rented the fishing.
“The Woolcocks have a houseful at Westmere,” so said Miss Susan, “and their staff of servants had recently enjoyed a sensational turning out. Joey Waring and her husband are there, just back from their winter trip.”
“And how is Joe?” inquired Aurea.
“Her hair is twice as fluffy, and she is louder, noisier, and talks ten times more than ever!”
“Now, Susan, you know that is impossible!”
“Yes; Kathleen declares that you can hear her laugh as you pass the park gates.”
“What! a whole mile away! She must have mistaken one of the peacocks for Joey, and however loud shelaughs and talks, she never says an unkind word of any one.”
“No, a good, kind little soul! but I wonder Captain Waring can stand her, and her chatter does not drive him crazy.”
“On the contrary, he adores her, and is enormously proud of her flow of animation and conversation. You see, he is so silent himself, Joey is his antithesis; and Joey is worshipped at home, for in a family of large, heavy, silent people, a little gabbling creature is appreciated. Tell me about Kathleen.”
“Oh, Kathleen is, as usual, very busy and cheery; she has three new boarders—hungry and quarrelsome.”
“And he?”
“Just as usual too, dear. You know he never can be better.”
“But he may grow worse!”
“Oh, don’t speak of such a thing! Think of Kathleen.”
“Yes; and I think Kathleen is a saint—so brave and unselfish. Now, where shall we put the old Palairet mirrors?”
“You had better consult your Aunt Bella.”
“My dear, good Susan!” (This was the style in which she addressed her relative.) “Don’t you know your own sister by this time? She has been here nearly seven months, and you are not half settled yet—only bedrooms and dining-room—and I have undertaken to help you finish off in three days.”
“Yes, but that’s nonsense, though I must say you’ve worked miracles this morning—curtains, covers, carpet; but there was no question of where they had to go. As to pictures, mirrors, and cabinets, it will take your aunt a twelvemonth to decide how to place them.”
“I shall decide, and place them to-day,” rejoined the girl, with calm decision; “if I ask Aunt Bella, they will be tried on every wall, till our backs are broken, and then taken down after all. The round glass between the windows,”—looking about and speaking with authority—“the other over the mantelpiece, the Chinese cabinet in that niche—they are just made for one another—the Charles the First black bureau from the schoolroom just here, and the screen from her bedroom by the door.”
“My dear child, you”—and she broke into a laugh—“you wouldn’tdare!”
“Would I not? Just wait and see. The room is charming, and when it’s finished Auntie B. will be enchanted! You may leave her to me. Oh,” in another tone to Wynyard, who had come forward in search of some wire, “youhaveworked well. It must be your dinner-hour. We shall be ready to start again at half-past two o’clock, and then the parlour-maid will help you with the furniture.”
“Very well, miss,” he answered.
As Aurea walked off, followed by Miss Susan, Wynyard the imposter assured himself that Miss Morven was quicker witted than her aunts. He had noticed her expression of keen attention as he discussed a matter of a curtain pole with her relative, and it was quite possible that she already had an inkling of the truth! He must be careful and wary not to give himself away or utter a word beyond “Yes, miss,” and “No, miss.” He was already attending closely to the speech of Tom Hogben, and had marked the scantiness and laziness of his vocabulary; how he never said more than he could help, and used the words, “Sure-ly,” and “I dunno,” and “ye see,” and “’ee” for “he,” and “I be” for “I am,” and resolved to imitate him.
The meal in the servants’ hall proved an even more trying ordeal than he anticipated, and was altogether so disagreeable to the new chauffeur that, sooner than face it again, he determined to fast.
The London cook (Miss Hicks) and four maids were present, also the boot-boy—a clumsy yokel, who was in terrified attendance. Owen sat on Miss Hicks’ right hand, and received all her attention, the best helpings, and daintiest morsels of a solid and satisfying meal.
She would scarcely suffer the other servants to address him, though the rosy-cheeked parlour-maid made bold and even desperate attempts. She plied him with questions, compliments, and information. For his part, he proved a disappointing guest, and did not afford Miss Hicks much satisfaction; she came to the conclusion that in spite of his fine figure and good looks the chauffeur was a dull sort of chap, and terribly backward at taking a hint. When she nudged him with her elbow, and pressed his foot under the table, there was no response—in fact, he moved a bit away! However, she laid the flattering unction to her soul that the poor fellow wasshy. He was duly favoured with the cook’s candid opinion of the place and their employers, namely, that Miss P. was an old terror, was a shocking one for running after lords and ladies, and talking grand, yet that mean and sneaking she would frighten you! She and Miss Norris, housekeeper at the Rectory, were cuts, only for the Rector; anyway, Norris never came to the Manor. Miss Susan was a lady, but a giddy old thing, so fond of gadding and amusement, and laws! what a one to talk! As for Miss Aurea——
No, he could not sit by and hear Miss Aurea dissected, and with an excuse that he wanted to have a pipe before he went back to his job, the chauffeur pushed away hisunfinished cheese, and with a civil farewell took his departure.
The afternoon was a busy one: the mirrors were put up, pictures were hung, but with many incursions and interruptions from Miss Parrett. Joss, the dog, was also in and out, and seemed inclined to attach himself to Wynyard.
Miss Parrett, still hooded, sat upright in an arm-chair, offering irritating criticisms, and quarrelling vigorously as to the position of pictures and articles of furniture; the old lady was altogether extremely troublesome and argumentative, and gave double work. Thoroughly alive to the fact that her niece had good taste, she was jealous of her activities, and yet wished to see the old rooms arranged to the best advantage—as the result would redound to her personal credit.
It was an immense relief to the three harassed workers when the parlour-maid entered and announced—
“If you please, Miss Parrett, Lady Mary Cooper has called, and I’ve shown her into the study.”
“You mean the library,” corrected her mistress. “Say I’m coming;” and she trotted over to a glass, removed her hood, and called upon Aurea to arrange her cap.
“Time Lady Marydidcall!” she grumbled. “We are here seven months.”
“She has been abroad,” said Susan; “and, anyway, she’s not much of a visitor.”
“Well, she is our own cousin, at any rate.”
“Our cousin—Lady Mary!” repeated Miss Susan. “I do declare, Bella, you have a craze for cousins. Why, we scarcely know the woman!”
“Now, Susan, don’t argue! Sheisour relative; her great-great-aunt married a Davenant, and I suppose you will allow that they are our kin? I have no timeto explain now;” and she pattered off, abandoning the workers to their own devices.
“Your Aunt Bella is so funny about relations! People I’ve never heard of she will say are our own cousins.”
“Yes, to the tenth generation,” agreed Aurea, “if they are well born. Aunt Bella has pedigree on the brain—for myself, I think it a bore.”
It was strange that Miss Parrett, who, on her mother’s side, was the granddaughter of a rough Hoogly pilot, should be as haughty and exclusive as if she were an Austrian princess. In the neighbourhood it had become a well-established joke that, if any one of importance and old family was mentioned before Miss Parrett, she was almost sure to announce—
“Oh, I don’t know much about them personally, but they are our cousins!”
By six o’clock the task of arranging the drawing-room was completed. Wynyard had been assisted by the rosy-cheeked maid in bringing tables, cabinets, and china from other rooms, and they really had, as Miss Susan declared, “worked like blacks.”
“Itisa dear old room!” said Aurea, surveying the apartment with unconcealed complacency. “When the bowls are filled with flowers, and we have a bridge table, and a jigsaw puzzle, we shall be perfect—old-fashioned, and in the fashion.”
“Glad you think so!” said a little bleating voice in the doorway. “Lady Mary asked for you, Susan, and I told her you were out, or she’d have wanted to come poking in here. So”—looking about—“you’ve brought the black cabinet out of the schoolroom! Who gave you leave to do that? And”—she threw out a quivering forefinger—“the blue china bowls from the spare room, andmyscreen! You take too much upon yourself, AureaMorven! You should have consulted me. I am tired of telling you that I willnotbe a cipher in my own house!”
Aurea coloured vividly. Did her aunt forget that the chauffeur was present? Really, Aunt Bella was too bad. She glanced at the young man, who was standing on the steps straightening a picture; apparently he was absorbed in his task, and to all appearances had not heard the recent conversation.
“Oh, I’m so sorry you don’t like the room, Aunt Bella!” said Aurea, seating herself in a high old chair, crossing her neat feet, and folding her hands.
“Sorry!”—and Miss Parrett sniffed—“that’s what you always say!”
“Now, my dear, please don’t be so cross,” she replied, unabashed; “you know, in your heart, you are delighted, and as proud of this drawing-room as a peacock with two tails.”
“Aurea!” shrieked her aunt.
“You have been here seven months, and you’ve not a single place in which to receive visitors. Look, now, at Lady Mary—you had her in the musty old study—and why?”—waving an interrogative hand—“simply because for months you could not make up your mind about the arrangement of this room. All the county have called—the first calls—and carried off the first impressions. None of your lovely old things were to be seen, but waiting to be settled.”
“Aurea, I will not suffer——”
“Please do let me finish, dear. Before I left, you may remember how you and I talked it all over—cabinets, china, sofas—and settled exactly where everything was to fit. I come back at the end of a month and I find nothing done; so I’ve made up my mind to work here for several days. I’ve asked the padré to spare me. This room isfinished, and looks extremely nice; the next I take in hand will be the den! Now, as it’s after six o’clock, I’m afraid I must be off;” and she arose, stooped down, and kissed her aunt on the forehead, adding—
“Of course I know, dear, that you are immensely obliged to me, and so you need not say anything. Good-bye—good-bye, Susie,” waving her hand, and she was gone, leaving Miss Parrett in the middle of the room temporarily speechless.
“Well—up—on my word!” and she took a long breath.
“After all, Bella, Aurea has made the room perfectly charming,” said Miss Susan, with unusual courage. “It’s the prettiest in the whole neighbourhood; the old things never were half seen before. She sewed the curtains herself, and, until to-day, we’ve never had any decent place to ask visitors to sit down in.”
“Oh yes, it’s all very well, but if she hadn’t my nice old things to work with, she couldn’t have made up such a room. Yes, I’m always just—every one says my sense of justice is my strong point—and I admit that she helped; what I object to is Aurea’s way—her way,” she repeated, “of just doing exactly whatever she chooses, and smiling in your face. She leads the whole of Ottinge by the nose, from the parson, her father, down to Crazy Billy.” And Wynyard, who was listening to this declaration, told himself that he was not surprised.
Miss Parrett was not particularly attached to her niece, although she was by no means indifferent to her fascinating personality, and a sunny face that brought light and gaiety into the house; but this wizened old woman of seventy-four grudged the girl her youth, and was animated by the natural antagonism of one who has lived, towards one who has life before her!