CHAPTER XII.REINETTE AND MR. BERESFORD.
Reinette slept heavily that first night in her new home—so heavily, that the robins had sung their first song, and the July sun had dried the dew-drops on the greensward and flowers before she awoke, with a very vague perception as to where she was, or what had happened to her. Through the window which she had left open came the warm summer air, sweet with the scent of clover and the newly-mown hay, which a farmer’s boy was turning briskly, not far from the house. And Reinette, who was keenly alive to everything fresh and beautiful, inhaled the delicious perfume and felt instinctively how much of freshness and beauty she was losing. But when she rose and, going to the window, threw back the shutters and looked for an instant at the lovely picture of the Merrivale hills and valleys spread out before her, a sharp cutting pain across her forehead and in her eyes warned her that her old enemy, the nervous headache, was upon her in full force, and there was nothing for her that day but pain and suffering in the solitude of her room. Then, as she remembered what Mrs. Ferguson had said of an early visit, for the sake of “talking over things,” she shuddered, and grew cold and faint, and thought, with that strange feeling of incredulity to which she clung:
“If I were only positive and sure, beyond a doubt that mother did once pick huckleberries with Mrs. Jerry, and wear the cotton gown, I could bear everything so much better. Mr. Beresford knows all about it; he will tell me, and I must see him first, forthose peoplewill not be long in coming to pay their respects.I’ll send Pierre immediately with a note asking him to come to me as soon as possible.”
What Reinette willed to do she did at once, and in spite of the blinding pain in her head, she opened her desk and wrote as follows;
“Mr. Beresford:—I must see you. Come without delay.
Miss Hetherton.”
Miss Hetherton.”
Miss Hetherton.”
Miss Hetherton.”
This done, she attempted to dress, but finding an elaborate toilet too much for her, she contented herself with a cool, white cambric wrapper, with rows of lace and embroidery down the front, and bows of delicate pink ribbon on the pockets and sleeves. Over this she threw a dainty Parisian jacket or sacque of the same hue, letting her dark wavy hair fall loosely down her back. She always wore it so when she had a headache, and she made a most beautiful and striking picture for Mrs. Jerry to contemplate when, in answer to her ring, that lady presented herself at the door to know what her mistress would have. Like most women, Mrs. Jerry had a hundred remedies for the headache, but Reinette wished for none of them. Nothing was of any avail until the pain ran its course, which it usually did in twenty-four hours, and all she asked was to be left in quiet in the library below, where she proposed going to wait for Mr. Beresford, whom Pierre found in his office and with him Phil Rossiter, the two talking together of the young lady at Hetherton Place and comparing their impressions of her.
“Not so very pretty, but bright and agreeable, with a will of her own,” Mr. Beresford said, guardedly, remembering what Phil had predicted with regard to the immediate surrender of his heart to the foreigner.
“Yes, and proud as Lucifer, too, or I’m mistaken,” answered Phil. “Why, I really believe she means to ride over us all. Odd, though, that she’d never heard ofa soul of us. That snob of a Hetherton must have been a queer chap.”
At this moment Pierre appeared in the door, bowing and gesticulating, and jabbering unintelligibly as he handed the note to Mr. Beresford, who read it aloud, while Phil said laughingly, though in reality he secretly felt aggrieved;
“You see, it is you for whom she has sent. She does not care for me.”
Strangely enough, notwithstanding his imperfect knowledge of English, Pierre understood the last part of Phil’s speech, and his gestures were more vehement than ever as he assured Phil that he was mistaken. Miss Reinette cared for him very much indeed, and had asked much about him, and noticed him at the grave, and when he went by on horseback. It was business alone which had prompted her to send for monsieur; later she would be most happy to see young monsieur, her cousin.
Phil could not follow the old man readily, but he thought he made out that Reinette had sent this message to him, or something like it, and he changed his mind about starting for Martha’s Vineyard that afternoon, as he had half resolved to do. He would see Reinette first, and hear her speak to him face to face.
“Tell her I shall be there some time to-day,” he said to his more fortunate friend, the lawyer, who, nothing loth to meet the glance of Reinette’s bright eyes once more, was soon riding rapidly toward Hetherton Place.
Reinette’s head was worse than it had been earlier in the morning, but she insisted upon seeing Mr. Beresford, who was admitted at once to the room, which Mrs. Jerry had made as dark as possible, but which was still light enough for him to distinguish distinctly the little figure in pink and white, reclining in the easy-chair, with masses of long dark hair rippling down its back, and a wet napkin upon the forehead, partially concealing the eyes, which nevertheless, flashed a welcome upon himas he came in, feeling a little abashed in the presence of this foreign girl in her pretty dishabille, with her loose wide sleeves showing her round, white arms to her elbows, and her little high-heeled pink-rosetted slippers resting on the footstool. She, on the contrary, was as composed and unconscious as if he had been a block of wood, instead of a man, with all a man’s impulse to worship and admire.
“Oh, Mr. Beresford,” she began, offering him one wet hand, while with the other she took the napkin from her head, and, dipping it in the bowl of water on the stand beside her, wrung it lightly and replaced it on her forehead, letting a little of the fringe hang over her eyes while drops of water ran down her face and fell from the end of her nose. “Oh, Mr. Beresford, it was so kind in you to come so soon when you must have so much to do, but you see I could not wait, even though I have this headache. Mrs. Jerry said it was hardly the thing to receive you in this way, but a girl with the headache cannot be expected to dress as for a dinner, and I can’t bear my hair bound up, though I might fix it a little,” and with a dexterous, quick movement, Reinette took the whole mass of wavy hair in her hand, and giving it a twist and a sweep backward, wet the napkin again, and spatting it down on her forehead, went on:
“I must see you this morning, because father said I was to ask you every thing—trust you with everything—and I want to know—I want you to tell me—those peo—those ladies—my grandmother said she was coming to-day to talk over matters, and how can I talk if I don’t know what to say?”
Mr. Beresford was sure he didn’t know, and she continued:
“It may seem strange to you, who did not know father intimately, to knew how little he talked of his affairs to any one. Even with regard to mother, he was very reticent, and never told me anything, except thatshe died in Rome, when I was born, and that her name was Margaret Ferguson. I always thought she was English, and built many castles about her and her relatives, and so, you see, I was a little surprised yesterday when they claimed me—such a number of them, it seemed. Were there many?”
“Only three,” Mr. Beresford replied, knowing that she had no reference to Phil when she talked of “those people.”
“Yes, three,” she continued, “and I fear I was not as gracious as I might have been, for I was so astonished to be claimed when I did not know for sure that I had a relative in the world. Mr. Beresford, would you mind telling me all you know about my mother? Did she ever live in Merrivale? Did father find her here? Did she pick huckleberries with Mrs. Jerry, and cut up bits of calico for the sake of sewing them together again?”
The napkin went into the water with a great splash, and then back to her forehead as she said this, but her eyes were fixed on Mr. Beresford, who, not knowing what she meant by the bits of calico, said he did not, but continued, laughingly:
“I dare say she did pick berries; for almost every girl born in Merrivale does so at some period of her life.”
“Then shewasborn here, and you have seen her, and there is no mistake, and these people, they are—they are my grandmother?”
This was the second time Reinette had put her questions in this form, and this time Mr. Beresford laughed heartily, as he replied:
“Yes, theyareyour grandmother decidedly; but,” he added, more quietly, “it is strange your father never told you.”
“Not strange at all if you knew him,” Reinette said, resolved that no blame should attach to her father. “But tell me,” she went on, “tell me all about it—the marriage, I mean, and who are the Fergusons—nicepeople, of course, or my mother would not have been one. Who are they, Mr. Beresford?”
The lawyer could not look that proud, high-bred girl in the face and tell her of Peggy Ferguson’s beer shop under the elms, of the Martins, or of the wonder and surprise when Fred Hetherton made Margaret Ferguson his wife. But he dwelt upon the honesty and respectability of John Ferguson, and the great beauty of his daughter Margaret, whose loveliness had attracted the heir of the Hethertons.
Reinette saw he was evading her questions, and with an impatient stamp of her little slipper, she said:
“Mr. Beresford, you are keeping things from me, and I will not bear it. If there is anything wrong about the Fergusons I wish to know it. Not that I shall turn against them,” she said, with a flash in her eyes which made her visitor wince. “They are mother’s people, and if they are thieves and robbers I am a thief and robber, too. I see by your face that thereissomething—that you don’t fancy these people of mine, but I tell you I do. If they areminethey aremine, and I won’t hear a word against them!”
What a strange contradictory creature she was, one moment insisting that he must tell her something, if there was any thing to tell, and the next warning him that she would not listen to a word. What could he do but stare wonderingly at her, as, dropping the napkin into the bowl of water, she leaned back in her chair and holding him with her bright eyes, said, imperiously:
“I am waiting, go on; father made amesalliance, I suppose.”
“Yes, that’s about the fact of the case,” Mr. Beresford replied, feeling compelled to speak out. “Your mother’s family did not stand as high socially as your father’s. They were poor, while Mr. Hetherton, your grandfather, was rich, and that makes a difference, you know.”
“No, I didn’t,” she replied. “I thought nothing madea difference in America, if you behaved yourself. But go on. How poor were they? Did they beg? What did they do?”
The look in her eyes brought the answer promptly:
“Your grandfather built chimneys and laid cellar walls.”
“Well, that’s dirty, sticky, nasty work, but no disgrace—people must have chimneys and cellar walls, and I’ve no doubt he built them well. What didshedo—grandmother, I mean? Was she a bar-maid?”
She had almost hit it, but not quite, and Mr. Beresford replied:
“She sold gingerbread and beer; kept a kind of baker’s shop.”
Reinette drew a quick, gasping breath, put the wet napkin again on her head without wringing it at all, and said:
“Yes, I see—I understand. They were unfortunate enough to be born poor; they did what they could to get their living; but that is nothing against them; that is no reason why you should despise them. They are mine, and I won’t have it, I say.”
“My dear Miss Hetherton,” Mr. Beresford began, puzzled to know how to treat this capricious creature, “whatcanyou mean? I do not despise them.”
“Yes, you do,” she answered; “I see it in your face. I saw it there yesterday when they claimed me. But I won’t have it; they are mine. Who was that young man with them? Why don’t you tell me about him, and not ofthemall the time?Heis not a Ferguson, sure?”
No, Phil was not a Ferguson, and Mr. Beresford launched at once into praise of Phil, and the Rossiters generally, dwelling at length upon their handsome house at the Knoll, the high position they held in both town and country, the accomplishments of the young ladies, Ethel and Grace, the sweetness and dignity of Mrs. Rossiter, and, lastly, Phil himself, the best-hearted, mostpopular fellow in the world, with the most exquisite taste in everything, as was shown in what he had done to make Hetherton Place attractive.
It was strange how Reinette’s whole attitude and expression changed as she listened. The Rossiters were more to her liking than the Fergusons, and she became as soft and gentle as a purring kitten, forgetting in her interest to wipe the drops of water from her face, as the napkin made frequent journeys to the bowl and back.
Mr. Beresford felt that he deserved a great deal of credit for thus extolling Phil, feeling, as he did, a horrible pang of jealousy when he saw the bright, eager face flush, and the dark eyes light up with pleasure and expectancy.
“And cousin Philip will call on me soon—to-day, I hope. I am so anxious to see him. It is so nice to have a real flesh and blood cousin, to whom I can talk more freely even than to you. Tell him, please, how I want to see him,” she said; and again a pang, like the cut of a knife, thrilled Mr. Beresford’s nerves, as he felt that his kingdom was slipping away.
Reinette was growing tired, and as there was no necessity to prolong the interview longer, she gave a little wave of her hand toward the door, and said:
“Thank you, Mr. Beresford; that is all I care to ask you now. You will, of course, continue to look after me as you did after papa until I am of age, and then I shall look after myself. Until then I wish you to see to everything, only stipulating that you let me have all the money I want, and I give you warning that I shall ask for a great deal. I mean to make this place the loveliest spot in the world. You accept, of course? You will be my agent, or guardian, or whatever you choose to call it but you must let me do exactly as I please, or you will find me troublesome.”
She smiled up at him very brightly, while he bowedhis acceptance, thinking to himself that he might sometimes find it hard to deal with this spoilt girl who warned him so prettily, and yet so determinedly, that she must have her way.
“I will serve you to the best of my ability,” he said, “and if I am to look after your interests it is necessary that I fully understand how much your father died possessed of, and where it is invested. I know, of course, about affairs in this country, but he must have had money, and perhaps lands, abroad. Do you know? Did he have any box where he kept his papers; and will you let me have that box as soon as possible; not to-day, of course, but soon?”
For an instant Reinette looked at him fixedly, while the remembrance of what her father had said to her with regard to letters which might come to him flashed upon her, and with the instincts of a woman who scents danger there came to her mind the thought that if there were letters no one must read, there might be papers which no eye but hers must see. She would look them over first before intrusting them to the care of any one, and if there were a secret in her father’s past life, only she would know it.
“Yes,” she said at last, “there are papers—many of them—in a tin box, and when you come again I will give them to you. Father had houses in Paris, and Avignon, too, I think. Pierre knows more of that than I do. Ask him anything you please. But hush! Isn’t that a carriage driving up to the door? It may be cousin Philip. I hope so. I am quite sure of it; and now go, please, and send Mrs. Jerry or Susan to me. I must do something with all this hair, or he’ll think me a guy;” and gathering her long, heavy hair in a mass she twisted it into a large flat coil, which she fastened at the back of her head with a gold arrow taken from her morning jacket.
It was not very complimentary to Mr. Beresford toknow that while she was willing to receive himen dishabille, as if he had been a block, the moment Phil came she was at once alive to all the proprieties of her personal appearance. Nor was it very gratifying to be thus summarily dismissed to make way for another, and that other the fascinating, good-for-nothing Phil, whom every woman worshipped; but there was no help for it, and bidding good-morning to the little lady who was standing before the mirror with her back to him, fixing her hair, he went out in the hall to meet—not Phil, but Grandma Ferguson and Anna. They had entered without ringing, and as Mr. Beresford opened the door of the library grandma caught sight of Reinette, and went unannounced, into her presence.