Author: George Manville Fenn
Category: Nonfiction
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CHAPTER EIGHT.
"I say, don't be in such a jolly hurry. You're all right here, youknow. I want to talk to you."
"You really must excuse me now, Claud; I have not been well, and I'mgoing back to my room."
"Of course you haven't been well, Kitty--I say, I shall call you Kitty,you know--you can't expect to be well moping upstairs in your room.I'll soon put you right, better than that solemn-looking Doctor. Youwant to be out in the woods and fields. I know the country about heresplendidly. I say, you ride, don't you?"
"I? No."
"Then I'll teach you. Get your old maid to make you a good long skirt--that will do for a riding-habit at first--I'll clap the side-saddle onmy cob, and soon show you how to ride like a plucky girl should. I say,Kitty, I'll hold you on at first--tight."
The speaker smiled at her, and the girl shrank from him, but he did notsee it.
"You'll soon ride, and then you and I will have the jolliest of timestogether. I'll make you ride so that by this time next year you'llfollow the hounds, and top a hedge with the best of them."
"Oh, no, I have no wish to ride, Claud."
"Yes, you have. You think so now, because you're a bit down; but youwait till you're on the cob, and then you'll never want to come off. Idon't. I say, you haven't seen me ride."
"No, Claud; but I must go now."
"You mustn't, coz. I'm going to rouse you up. I say, though, I don'twant to brag, but I can ride--anything. I always get along with thefirst flight, and a little thing like you after I've been out with you abit will astonish some of them. I shall keep my eye open, and the firstpretty little tit I see that I think will suit you, I shall make theguv'nor buy."
"I beg that you will not, Claud."
"That's right, do. Go down on your poor little knees and beg, and I'llget the mount for you all the same. I know what will do you good andbring the blood into your pretty cheeks. No, no, don't be in such ahurry. I won't let you go upstairs and mope like a bird with the pip.You never handled a gun, I suppose?"
"No, never," said Kate, half angrily now; "of course not."
"Then you shall. You can have my double-barrel that father bought forme when I was a boy. It's light as a feather, comes up to the shouldersplendidly, and has no more kick in it than a mouse. I tell you what,if it's fine this afternoon you shall put on thick boots and a hat, andwe'll walk along by the fir plantations, and you shall have your firstpop at a pheasant."
"I shoot at a pheasant!" cried Kate in horror.
"Shoo!" exclaimed Claud playfully. "Yes, you have your first shot at apheasant. Shuddering? That's just like a London girl. How horrid,isn't it?"
"Yes, horrible for a woman."
"Not a bit of it. You'll like it after the first shot. You'll be readyenough to shove in the cartridges with those little hands, and bring thebirds down. I say, I'll teach you to fish, too, and throw a fly.You'll like it, and soon forget all the mopes. You've been spoiled; butafter a month or two here you won't know yourself. Don't be in such ahurry, Kitty."
"Don't hold my hand like that, Claud; I must really go now," said Kate,whose troubled face was clouded with wonder, vexation, and somethingapproaching fear. "I really wish to go into the house."
"No, you don't; you want to stop with me. I shan't have a chance totalk to you again, with old Garstang here. I say, I saw you come out tohave this little walk up and down here. I was watching and came afteryou to show you the way about the grounds."
"It was very kind of you, Claud. Thank you; but let me go in now."
"Shan't I don't get a chance to have a walk with such a girl as youevery day. I am glad you've come. It makes our house seem quitedifferent."
"Thank you for saying so--but I feel quite faint now."
"More need for you to stop in the fresh air. You faint, and I'll bringyou to again with a kiss. That's the sort of thing to cure a girl whofaints."
She looked at him in horror and disgust, as he burst into a boisterouslaugh.
"I suppose old Garstang isn't a bad sort but we don't much like himhere. I say, what do you think of Harry Dasent?"
"I--I hardly know," said Kate, who was trying her best to get back alongthe path by some laurels to where the conservatory door by thedrawing-room stood open. "I have seen so little of him."
"So much the better for you. He's not a bad sort of a fellow for men toknow, but he's an awful cad with girls. Not a bit of a gentleman. Youwon't see much more of him, though, for the guv'nor says he won't havehim here. I say, a month ago it would have made me set up on bristles,because I want him for a mate, but I don't mind now you've come. We'llbe regular pals, and go out together everywhere. I'll soon show youwhat country life is. Oh, well, if you will go in now I won't stop you.I'll go and have the little gun cleaned up, and--I say, come round theother way; I haven't shown you the dogs."
"No, no--not now, please, Claud. I really am tired out and faint."
He still kept her hand tightly under his arm, in spite of her effort towithdraw it, and followed her into the conservatory, which was large andwell-filled with ornamental shrubs and palms.
"Well, you do look a bit tired, dear, but it becomes you. I say, I amso glad you've come. What a pretty little hand this is. You'll give mea kiss before you go?"
She started from him in horror.
"Nobody can't see here. Just one," he whispered, as he passed his armround her waist; and before she could struggle free he had roughlykissed her twice.
"Um-m-m," exclaimed Mrs Wilton, in a soft simmering way. "Claud,Claud, my dear, shocking, shocking! Oh, fie, fie, fie! You shouldn't,you know. Anyone would think you were an engaged couple."
"Aunt, dear!" cried Kate, in an agitated voice, as she clung to thatlady, but no further words would come.
"Oh, there, there, my dear, don't look like that," cried Mrs Wilton."I'm not a bit cross. Why, you're all of a flutter. I wasn't blamingyou, my dear, only that naughty Claud. It was very rude of him, indeed.Really, Claud, my dear, it is not gentlemanly of you. Poor Kate isquite alarmed."
"Then you shouldn't have come peeping," cried the oaf, with a boisterouslaugh.
"Claud! for shame! I will not allow it. It is not respectful to yourmamma. Now, come in, both of you. Mr Garstang is here--with yourfather, Claud, my love; and I wish you to be very nice and respectful tohim, for who knows what may happen? Kate, my dear, I never thinkanything of money, but when one has rich relatives who have no childrenof their own, I always say that we oughtn't to go out of our way toannoy them. Henry Dasent certainly is my sister's child, but one can'thelp thinking more of one's own son; and as Harry is nothing to MrGarstang, I can't see how he can help remembering Claud very strongly inhis will."
"Doesn't Claud wish he may get it!" cried that youth, with a grin. "I'mnot going to toady old Garstang for the sake of his coin."
"Nobody wishes you to, my dear; but come in; they must be done withtheir business by now. Come, my darling. Why, there's a pretty bloomon your cheeks already. I felt that a little fresh air would do yougood. They're in the library; come along. We can go in through theverandah. Don't whistle, Claud, dear; it's so boyish."
They passed together out of the farther door of the conservatory intothe verandah, and as they approached an open window, a smooth blandvoice said:
"I'll do the best I can, Mr Wilton; but I am only the agent. If Istave it off, though, it can only be for a short time, and then--Ah, mydear child!"
John Garstang, calm, smooth, well-dressed and handsome, rose from one ofthe library chairs as Kate entered with her aunt, and held out both hishands: "I am very glad to see you again--very, very sorry to hear thatyou have been so ill. Hah!" he continued, as he scrutinised theagitated face before him in a tender fatherly way, "not quite right yet,though," and he led her to a chair near the fire. "That rosy tinge is atrifle too hectic, and the face too transparently white. You must takecare of her, Maria Wilton, and see that she has plenty of this bea
utifulfresh air. I hope she is a good obedient patient."
"Ve-ry, ve-ry, good indeed, John Garstang, only a little too muchdisposed to keep to her room."
"Oh, well, quite natural, too," said Garstang, smiling. "What we all dowhen we are ailing. But there, we must not begin a discussion aboutailments. I'm very glad to see you again, though, Kate, andcongratulate you upon being here."
"Thank you, Mr Garstang," she replied, giving him a wistful look, as afeeling of loneliness amongst these people made her heart seem tocontract.
"Well, Wilton, I don't think we need talk any more about business?"
"Oh, we're not going to stay," cried Mrs Wilton. "Come, Kate, mychild, and let these dreadful men talk."
"By no means," said Garstang; "sit still, pray. We shall have plenty oftime for anything more we have to say over a cigar to-night, for I'vecome down to throw myself upon your hospitality for a day or two."
"Of course, of course," said Wilton, quickly; "Maria has a room readyfor you."
"Yes, your old room, John Garstang; and it's beautifully aired, and justas you like it."
"Thank you, Maria. You aunt always spoils me, Kate, when I come downhere. I look upon the place as quite an oasis in the desert of drudgeryand business; and at last I have to drag myself away, or I should becomea confirmed sybarite."
"Well, why don't you?" said Claud. "Only wish I had your chance."
"My dear Claud, you speak with the voice of one-and-twenty. When youare double your age you will find, as I do, that money and position andlife's pleasures soon pall, and that the real enjoyment of existence isreally in work."
"Walker!" said Claud, contemptuously.
Garstang laughed merrily, and while Wilton and his wife frowned andshook their heads at their son, he turned to Kate.
"It is of no use to preach to young people," he said, "but what I say isthe truth. Not that I object to a bit of pleasure, Claud, boy. I'mlooking forward to a few hours with you, my lad--jolly ones, as you callthem, and as I used. How about the pheasants?"
"More than you'll shoot."
"Sure to be. My eye is not so true as it was, Maria."
"Stuff! You look quite a young man still."
"Well, I feel so sometimes. What about the pike in the lake, Claud?Can we troll a bit?"
"It's chock full of them. The weeds are rotten and the pike wantthinning down. Will you come?"
"Will I come! Indeed I will; and I'd ask your cousin to come on thelake with us to see our sport, but it would not be wise. How is thebay?"
"Fit as a fiddle. Say the word and I'll have him round if you're for aride."
"After lunch, my dear, after lunch," said Mrs Wilton.
"Yes, after lunch I should enjoy it," said Garstang.
"Two, sharp, then," said Claud.
"Yes, two, sharp," replied Garstang, consulting his watch. "Quarter toone now."
"Yes, and lunch at one."
"By the way," said Garstang, "Harry said he had been down here, and yougave him some good sport. I'm afraid I have made a mistake in tying himdown to the law."
Wilton moved uneasily in his chair and darted an angry look at his wife,who began to fidget, and looked at Kate and then at her son.
Garstang did not seem to notice anything, but smiled blandly, as heleaned back in his chair.
"Oh, yes, he blazed away at the pheasants," said Claud, sneeringly; "buthe only wounded one, and it got away."
"That's bad," said Garstang. "But then he has not had your experience,Master Claud. It's very good of you, though, James, to have him down,and of you, Maria, to make the boy so welcome. He speaks verygratefully about you."
"Oh, it isn't my doing, John Garstang," said the lady, hurriedly; "butof course I am bound to make him welcome when he comes;" and she uttereda little sigh as she glanced at her lord again, as if feeling satisfiedthat she had exonerated herself from a serious charge.
"Ah, well, we'll thank the lord of the manor, then," said Garstang,smiling at Kate.
"Needn't thank me," said Wilton, gruffly. "I don't interfere withClaud's choice of companions. If you mean that I encourage him to comeand neglect his work you are quite out. You must talk to Claud."
"I don't want him," cried that gentleman.
"But I think I understood him to say that you had asked him down again."
"Not I," cried Claud. "He'd say anything."
"Indeed! I'm sorry to hear this. In fact, I half expected to find himdown here, and if I had I was going to ask you, James, if you thought itwould be possible for you to take him as--as--well, what shall I say?--asort of farm pupil."
"I?" cried Wilton, in dismay. "What! Keep him here?"
"Well--er--yes. He has such a penchant for country life, and I thoughthe would be extremely useful as a sort of overlooker, or bailiff, whilelearning to be a gentleman-farmer."
"You keep him at his desk, and make a lawyer of him," said Wiltonsourly. "He'll be able to get a living then, and not have to be alwaysborrowing to make both ends meet. There's nothing to be made out offarming."
"Do you hear this, Kate, my dear?" said Garstang, with a meaning smile."It is quite proverbial how the British farmer complains."
"You try farming then, and you'll see."
"Why not?" said Garstang, laughingly, while his host writhed in hisseat. "It always seems to me to be a delightful life in the country,with horses to ride, and hunting, shooting and fishing."
"Oh, yes," growled Wilton, "and crops failing, and markets falling, andswine fever, and flukes in your sheep, and rinderpest in your cattle,and the bank refusing your checks."
"Oh, come, come, not so bad as that! You have fine weather as well asfoul," said Garstang, merrily. "Then Harry has not been down again,Claud?"
"No, I haven't seen him since he went back the other day," said Claud,and added to himself, "and don't want to."
"That's strange," said Garstang, thoughtfully. "I wonder where he hasgone. I daresay he will be back at the office, though, by now. I don'tlike for both of us to be away together. When the cat's away the micewill play, Kate, as the old proverb says."
"Then why don't you stop at the office, you jolly old sleek black tom,and not come purring down here?" said Claud to himself. "Bound to sayyou can spit and swear and scratch if you like."
There was a dead silence just then, which affected Mrs Wilton so thatshe felt bound to say something, and she turned to the visitor.
"Of course, John Garstang, we don't want to encourage Harry Dasent here,but if--"
"Ah, here's lunch ready at last," cried Wilton, so sharply that his wifejumped and shrank from his angry glare, while the bell in the littlewooden turret went on clanging away.
"Oh, yes, lunch," she said hastily. "Claud, my dear, will you take yourcousin in?"
But Garstang had already arisen, with bland, pleasant smile, andadvanced to Kate.
"May I?" he said, as if unconscious of his sister-in-law's words; and atthat moment a servant opened the library door as if to announce thelunch, but said instead:
"Mr Harry Dasent, sir!"
That gentleman entered the room.