Books: The Long Vacation
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Long Vacation
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"Not to compete with the Dirty Boy."
"Ah! now you are laughing at me, Cherry. Quite right, I am glad to
hear you do it again."
The next visitor was Lance.
"Oh, Cherry, how cool you look! Give me a cup of tea-—not
refreshment-stall tea. That's right. Little Francie is a perfect
gem-—looks and voice—-not acting-—no time for that. Heigh-ho!"
"Where's Gerald?"
"Somewhere about after that Merrifield niece with the doleful name, I
fancy. He did very well when it came to the scratch."
"Have you seen Dr. Brownlow? He has been to see Clement."
"That's first-rate! Where shall I find him?"
"Somewhere about, according to your lucid direction, I suppose."
"What does he think of old Tina?"
Geraldine told him, and was rather surprised, when he whistled as
though perplexed, and as Fergus rushed in, glorious with the news
that Sir Ferdinand had bought his collection of specimens for the
Bexley museum, he rose up, looking perturbed, to find Dr. Brownlow.
Next came Gillian with news that the Dirty Boy was sold to Lady
Travis Underwood.
"And mayn't I stay a moment or two?" said she. "Now the masque is
over, that Captain Armytage is besetting me again."
"Poor Captain Armytage."
"Why do you pity him? He is going to join his ship, the Sparrow
Hawk, next week, and that ought to content him."
"Ships do not always fill a man's heart."
"Then they ought. I don't like it," she added, in a petulant tone.
"I have so much to learn and to do, I don't want to be tormented
about a tiresome man."
"Well, he will be out of your way to-morrow."
"Geraldine, that is a horrid tone."
"If you choose to put meaning in it, I cannot help it."
"And that horrid little Maura! She is in the most awful flutter,
standing on tiptoe, and craning out her foolish little neck. I know
it is all after Ivinghoe, and he never has come to our counter!
Kalliope has been trying to keep her in order, but I'm sure the Queen
of the White Ants must have been just like that when she got poor
Captain White to marry her. Kalliope is so much vexed, I can see.
She never meant to have her here. And Aunt Ada stayed away on
purpose."
"Has she seen much of him?"
"Hardly anything; but he did admire her, and she never was like
Kalliope. But what would Aunt Ada do? Oh dear! there's that man!
He has no business at Aunt Jane's charity stall. I shall go and tell
him so."
Geraldine had her little private laugh before Adrian came up to her
with a great ship in his arms—-
"Take care of this, Aunt Cherry. She is going to sail on the Ewe.
I bought her with the sovereign Uncle Fernan gave me."
Geraldine gave the ship her due admiration, and asked after the
masque.
"Oh, that went off pretty well. I wouldn't have been Fely! All the
ladies went and said 'Pretty dear!' when he sang his song about the
bat's back.
Disgusting! But then he has not been a fellow at school, so he made
his bow and looked as if he didn't mind it."
"And Francie?"
"Francie looked perfectly stunning. Everybody said so, and she sang-
—well, she sang better than she did at home; but she was in an awful
funk, though I kept on looking at her, and shouting bravo to
encourage her; and she must have heard my voice, for I was just in
front."
"I hope she was encouraged."
"But she is very stupid. I wanted to take her round to all the
stalls, and show her what to buy with the five Jubilee sovereigns
Uncle Fernan gave her, for you know she has never been anywhere, or
seen anything. I thought she would like it, and besides, all our
fellows say they never saw such an awfully pretty girl, and they
can't believe all that hair is her own—-she had it all down her back,
you know-—so I told them I would let them have a pull to try."
"Poor Francie! She declined, I suppose?"
"Well, there was that ridiculous swell, Fergus's cousin, Ivinghoe,
and he has taken her off to see the stupid flowers in the
conservatory. I told Sophy I wondered she permitted such flirting,
but of course Francie knew no better."
"Oh! and you couldn't stop it?"
"Not I, though I called her over and over again to look at things,
but Lord Ivinghoe always hung about and gave one no peace. So I just
told Sophy to look after her, and came off to tell you. Oh my! here
is old Miss Mohun coming up. I shall be off. I want some chocolate
creams. Mrs. Simmonds has got some splendid ones."
Miss Mohun was coming, in fact.
"Well, Geraldine, the masque was a great success. People beg to have
it repeated, so many could not get in. And it is worth at least a
hundred pounds to us. People whose opinion is worth having were
quite struck. They say your brother really ought to have been a
great composer and singer."
"I think he might have been if he had not given up his real passion
to come to the help of my dear eldest brother. And he is really
happier as he is."
"I knew there was conquest in his face. And that dear little elf of
a boy-—what a voice! So bright and so arch too. Then the Miranda—-
she took all by surprise. I believe half the spectators took her for
the Little Butterfly."
"Ah, the poor Little Butterfly is flown. There was nothing for it
but to make Francie act, as she had taken the part once before."
"Her acting was no great things, they say-—ladylike, but frightened.
Her voice is lovely, and as to her looks-—people rave about them.
Tell me, she is not Lady Travis Underwood's daughter?"
"Oh no; she is Anna's sister, Adrian's sister."
"So I told Lady Rotherwood, I was sure it was so."
"The Travis Underwoods have no children, but they adopted Emilia when
I took Anna, and they have brought three Vanderkists to this affair.
Francie has never been from home before, it is all quite new to her."
Then recollecting what Adrian had repeated, she thought it fair to
add, "My sister was left very badly off, and all these eight girls
will have nothing of their own."
"Well, I don't suppose anything will come of it. I hope it will put
no folly into her head; but at any rate it effaces that poor silly
little Maura. I hope too, as you say your niece is so innocent, it
will do her no harm."
"I don't suppose any possibilities have occurred to the child."
Lord Rotherwood here came on the scene.
"Jenny, there's an offer for your boy in the fool's cap, and Mysie
doubts if she ought to let him go. Well, Mrs. Grinstead, I think you
have the best of it. Lookers on, etc."
"Looking on has always been my trade."
"You heard the rehearsal of the masque, I believe, but you did not
hear that charming Mona?"
"No; she had to take the part suddenly. Her uncle had to tyrannize
over her, to save the whole thing."
"We are much indebted to him, and to her," said Lord Rotherwood
courteously. "She looked as if she hated it all in the first scene,
though she warmed up afterwards. I must say I liked her the better
for her shyness."
"Her little brother thinks she recovered in consequence of his
applause," said Geraldine, smiling.
"Ah! I saw him. And heard. A little square fellow-—very sturdy."
"Yes, the Dutchman comes out in him, and he has droll similitudes,
very curious in one who never saw his father, nor any but his
Underwood relations."
"So much the better for him perhaps; I have, and ought to have, great
faith in uncles' breeding. I am glad to meet Sir Ferdinand Travis
Underwood. I have often come across him about London good works."
"Yes, he is an excellent man."
"Not wholly English is he, judging by the depth of colour in those
eyes?"
"No; his mother was a Mexican, partly Indian. We used to call him
the Cacique;" and Geraldine had the pleasure of telling his story to
an earnest listener, but interruption came in the shape of Sir
Ferdinand himself who announced that he had hired a steam-yacht
wherein to view the regatta, and begged Lord Rotherwood to join the
party.
This was impossible, as the Marquis was due at an agricultural dinner
at Clarebridge, but in return, in the openness of his heart, he
invited the Travis Underwoods to their dinner that evening at the
hotel, where the Merrifields and the Underwoods were already engaged,
little boys and all.
"Thank you, my lord, but we are too large a party. We have three
Vanderkist girls with us, and Anna and her brother are to join them
to be with their sister."
"Never mind, never mind. The great hall will have room for all."
Still Fernan demurred, knowing that Marilda had ordered dinner at the
Quay Hotel, and that even liberal payment would not atone for missing
the feasting of the millionaires; so the matter was compounded by his
promise to bring all his party, who were not ready for bed, up to
spend the evening.
And Geraldine perceived from Lady Rotherwood's ceremonious politeness
that she did not like it at all, though she never said so even to
Lady Merrifield.
However, it was a very bright evening. Gerald had sung himself into
spirits, and then found Dolores, and retreated into the depths of the
garden with her, explaining to her all about his sister, and
declaring that his first object must be to rescue her; and then,
unless his name was cleared, and he had to resume all his
obligations, the new life would be open to him, and he had no fear of
not succeeding as a journalist, or if not, a musical career was
possible to him, as Dolores had now the opportunity of fully
perceiving. His sweet voice had indeed filled her with double
enthusiasm. She had her plan for lecturing, and that very morning
she had received from her father permission to enter a ladies'
college, and the wherewithal. She would qualify herself for
lecturing by the time he had fixed his career; and they built their
airy castles, not on earth, but on railroads and cycles, and revelled
on them as happily as is common to lovers, whether in castle or in
cottage. Certainly if the prospect held out to her had been Vale
Leston Priory, it would not have had the same zest; and when in the
evening they joined the dinner-party, there was a wonderful look of
purpose and of brightness on both their faces. And Emilia, who had
been looking for him all the afternoon to tell him, "Gerald, I am
really going to be a nurse," only got for answer an absent "Indeed!"
"Yes, at St. Roque's."
"I hope I shall never be a patient there," he said, in his half-
mocking tone. "You'll look jolly in the cap and apron."
"I'm to be there all the time they are in America, and-—"
"Well, I wonder you don't go and study the institutions."
"But, Gerald--"
His eye was wandering, and he sprang forward to give Dolores a flower
that she had dropped.
Lancelot, knowing what was before Gerald, and having always regarded
Vale Leston with something of the honours of Paradise, could not
understand that joyous look of life, so unlike Gerald's usual weary,
passive expression. He himself felt something of the depression that
was apt to follow on musical enjoyment; he saw all the failures
decidedly enough not to be gratified with the compliments he met on
all sides, and "he bitterly thought on the morrow," when he saw how
Clement was getting animated over a discussion on Church matters, and
how Geraldine was enjoying herself. And as to that pretty Franceska,
who had blossomed into the flower of the flock, he foresaw heart-
break for her when he watched the Marchioness's countenance on
hearing that her son had accepted Sir Ferdinand's invitation to
cruise to-morrow in the yacht.
Vainly was Ivinghoe reminded of the agricultural dinner. He was only
too glad to escape it, and besides, he thought he could be there in
time.
Nevertheless, the present was delightful, and after dinner the young
people all went off to the great assembly-room, whence Anna came back
to coax Uncle Lance to play for them. All the elders jumped up from
their several discussions. Even Lady Rotherwood moved on, looking as
benign as her feelings would permit. Jane squeezed Geraldine's arm,
exceedingly amused. Lance struck up, by request, an old-fashioned
country dance; Lord Rotherwood insisted that "Lily" should dance with
him, as the remnant of forty good years ago or more, and with Sir
Roger de Coverley the day ended.
Poor little Maura, making an excuse to wander about the gardens in
the moonlight, saw the golden locks shining through the open windows,
and Lord Ivinghoe standing over them, went home, and cried herself to
sleep over the fickleness of the nobility, when she had better have
cried over her own unjustified romance, excited by a few kindly
speeches and a cup of tea.
And Emilia! What was Gerald's one laughing turn with her, compared
with his long talk with Dolores in the moonlight?
CHAPTER XXII. THE REGATTA
She saw a forget-me-not in the grass,
Gilly-flower, gentle rosemary,
Ah! why did the lady that little flower pass,
While the dews fell over the mulberry-tree?
KENEALY.
Such of the party as were not wanted for the second day of the
bazaar, and were not afraid of mal de mer, had accepted the yachting
invitation, except the three elders at St. Andrew's Rock. Even
Adrian and Felix were suffered to go, under Sophy's charge, on the
promise to go nowhere without express permission, and not to be
troublesome to any one.
"Sophy can say, 'Now, boys,' as effectively as Wilmet," said
Geraldine, when she met Lance, who had been to the quay to see them
off.
"She did not say so to much advantage with her own boys," said
Clement.
"We weren't Harewoods," returned Lance, "and John never could bear to
see a tight hand over them; but there's good in them that will come
out some day."
Clement gave an emphatic "Humph!" as he sat down to the second
breakfast after Anna had gone to the cliff to resume her toils.
"Who are gone?" asked Geraldine.
"Poor Marilda, smilingly declaring she shall be in misery in the
cabin all the time, Fernan, and four Vanderkists, General Mohun, Sir
Jasper, and some of his progeny; but others stay to help Miss Mohun
finish up the sales."
"Does Lord Ivinghoe go?"
"Oh yes, he came rushing down just in time. Francie was looking like
a morning rose off the cloister at Vale Leston."
"I am sorry they have another day of it. I don't see how it can come
to good," said Geraldine.
"Perhaps her roses may fade at sea," said Clement, "and
disenchantment may ensue."
"At least I hope Alda may not hear of it, or she will be in an agony
of expectation as long as hope lasts. Gerald is gone, of course?"
"Oh yes!" said Lance, who had had a farewell from him with the words,
"Get it over while I am out of the way, and tell them I don't mind."
Cursory and incomprehensible, but conclusive; and Lance, who minded
enough to have lost sleep and gained a headache, marvelled over young
men's lightness and buoyancy. He had seen Dr. Brownlow, and arranged
that there should be a call, as a friend, in due time after the
communication, in case it should hurt Clement, and when Geraldine
observed merrily that now they were quit of all the young ones they
could feel like old times, he was quite grieved to disturb her
pleasure.
Clement, however, began by taking out a letter and saying—-
"Here is a remarkable missive left for me yesterday—-'If the Rev.
Underwood wishes to hear of something to his advantage, he should
communicate with Mr. O'L., care of Mr. John Bast, van proprietor,
Whitechapel.' An impostor?" said he.
"I am afraid not," said Lance. "Clement, I fear there is no doubt
that she is that singing Hungarian woman who was the ruin of Edgar's
life."
"Gerald's mother!" exclaimed Geraldine.
"Even so."
"But she is gone! She gave up all rights. She can't claim anything.
Has she worried him?"
"Yes, poor boy! She has declared that she had actually a living
husband at the time she married our poor Edgar."
Of course both broke out into exclamations that it was impossible,
and Lance had to tell them of his interview with the woman at
Gerald's entreaty. They were neither of them so overcome by the
disclosure as he had feared during his long delay.
"I believe it is only an attempt at extortion," said Clement.
"Very cruel," said Geraldine. "How-—how did my poor boy bear it all
this time?"
"He was very much knocked down at first, quite overwhelmed, but less
by the loss than by the shame, and the imputation on his father."
"It was no fault of dear Edgar's."
"No, indeed. I am glad Fernan is here to go over again what Edgar
told him. We may be quite satisfied so far."
"And is it needful to take it up?" asked Geraldine wistfully. "If we
don't believe it, the horrid story would get quashed."
"No, Cherry," said Clement. "If you think it over you will see that
we must investigate. I should be relieved indeed to let it alone,
but it would not be fair towards Lance there and his boys."
Lance made a strange noise of horror and deprecation, then added—-
"I don't believe Gerald would consent to let it alone."
"No, now he knows, of course. He is a right-minded, generous boy,"
said Geraldine. "I was wrong. Did you say he was very much upset?"
"Just at first, when he came to me at night. I was obliged to
dragoon him, and myself too, to throw it off enough to be able to get
through our performance yesterday. How thankful I am to the regatta
that it is not our duty to the country to go through it again to-day!
However, he seems to have rebounded a good deal. He was about all
the latter part of the day with Miss Mohun."
"I saw him dancing and laughing with some of them."
"And he parted from me very cheerfully, telling me to assure you 'he
did not mind,' whatever that may mean."
"He knows that nothing can disturb our love for him, Edgar's little
comfort, passed on to bear us up," said Cherry tearfully. "Oh yes, I
know what he meant-—Felix's delight, my darling always."
"It strikes me," said Lance, "that if he can save his sister—-"
Geraldine started.
"Oh, the cigar-girl! Only by that mother's side."
"That is true, but she is his half-sister, and he is evidently much
drawn towards her. She is a nice little thing, and I believe he made
much of her on the rehearsal day. I saw they got on much better
together, and I think she was aware of the relationship."
"Yes, it is quite right of him," said Geraldine, "but she will be a
drag on him all his life. Now what ought we to do? Shall you answer
this letter to the care of the van-man, Clem?"
"I shall think, and wait till I have seen Gerald and Travis. This
letter is evidently written simply in the hope of raising money from
me, not in any friendly spirit."
"Certainly not," said Lance. "Having failed to black-mail Gerald,
and discovered that you are the heir, they begin on you, but not from
any gratitude to you. Sweetie Bob, as they call the ex-errand-boy,
gives a fine account of their denunciations of the tall parson who
brought the bobbies down on them."
Lance felt much reassured by Clement's tone, and all the more when he
had seen Dr. Brownlow, who made a thorough examination, and came to
the conclusion that Clement had recovered tone, so that the shock,
whatever it was, that his brother dreaded had done no present damage,
but that he was by no means fit for any strain of work or exertion,
should be kept from anxiety as much as possible, and had better spend
the winter in a warm climate. It was not likely-—Jock Brownlow said
it with grief and pain-—that he would ever be able to return to the
charge of St. Matthew's, but as he had a year's holiday, there was no
need to enter on that subject yet, and in a quiet country place, with
a curate, he might live to the age of man in tolerable health if he
took care of himself, or his sister took care of him for some time to
come.
So much relieved was Lance that he recollected that he had laid in no
stock of presents for those at home, and went up to profit by the
second day's reductions, when he secured Geraldine's portrait of Davy
Blake for his wife, and a statuette of St. Cecilia for Dr. May, some
charming water-colours for Robina and Ethel, besides various lesser
delights for the small fry, his own and the flock at Vale Leston,
besides a cushion for Alda's sofa. John Inglesant had been bought by
a connoisseur by special commission. He heard at every stall
triumphant accounts of the grand outlay of the Travis Underwoods and
Rotherwoods, and just the contrary of Mrs. Pettifer, whom he
encountered going about in search of bargains, and heard haggling for
a handsome table-cover, because it was quite aesthetic, and would not
do except in a large house, so of course it had not sold.
The Mouse-traps had been a great success, and there were very few
left of them. They really owed as much to Lance as did the play, for
he had not only printed them at as small a cost as possible, but had
edited, pruned, and got them into shape more than any of the young
lady authors suspected. The interpretation of handwriting had
likewise succeeded in obtaining many clients, and a large pile of
silver coins. Anna, who was hovering near, was delighted to show him
that her sister Sophy's writing had been declared to indicate homely
tastes, an affectionate disposition, great perspicuity of perception,
much force of character; and Franceska's, scarcely yet formed, showed
that she was affectionate, romantic, and, of all things in the world,
fond of horses and of boating. Emilia's was held as a great blunder,
for she was said to have an eye devoted to temporal advantages, also
volatile, yet of great determination, triumphing over every obstacle,
and in much danger of self-deception.
"The triumph at least is true," said Anna, "now she has her way about
the nursing."
"Has she? I did not know it."
"Yes, she is to try it for a year, while Cousins Fernan and Marilda
go out to their farm in the Rocky Mountains."
Just then there was a little commotion, and a report came up that a
boat had been run down and some one drowned. Somebody said, "One of
those acting last night-—a buccaneer." Somebody else, "A naval man."
Then it was "The Buccaneer Captain," and Mrs. Pettifer was
exclaiming, "Poor Captain Armytage! He was in our theatricals, I
remember, but they thought him rather high. But he was a fine young
man! Poor Captain Armytage!"
Lance had sufficient interests in those at sea to be anxious, and
turned his steps to the gates to ascertain the facts, when he was
overtaken by Gillian, with a hat hastily thrown over her snooded hair
and Highland garb, hurrying along, and looking very white.
"Mr. Underwood! Oh! did you hear who it was?"
"No certainty. I was going down to find out. You," as he saw her
purpose, "had better not come. There will be a great crowd. I will
come back and tell you."
"Oh no, I must. This is the short way."
Her hands trembled so that she could hardly undo the private
fastening of Miss Mohun's garden, and she began to dash down the
cliff steps. Just at the turn, where the stair-way was narrowest,
Lance heard her exclaim, and saw that she had met face to face no
other than Captain Armytage himself.
"Oh! is it?" and she so tottered on the rocky step that the hand he
had put out in greeting became a support, and a tender one, as Lance
said (perhaps with a little _malice_)—-
"We heard that the Buccaneer Captain had come to grief."
"I?" he laughed; and Gillian shook herself up, asking—-
"Weren't you run down?" seeing even as she spoke that not a drop of
wet was traceable.
"Me! What! did you think I was going to peril my life in a 'long-
shore concern like this?" said he, with a merry laugh, betraying
infinite pleasure.
"But did nothing happen? Nobody drowned?" she asked, half
disappointed.
"Not a mouse! A little chap, one of the fairies yesterday, tumbled
off the sea-wall where he had no business to be, but he swam like a
cork. We threw him a rope and hauled him up."
Wherewith he gave his arm to Gillian, who was still trembling, and
clasped it so warmly that Lance thought it expedient to pass them as
soon as possible and continue his journey on the staircase, giving a
low whistle of amusement, and pausing to look out on the beautiful
blue bay, crowded with the white sails of yachts and pleasure-boats,
with brilliant festoons of little flags, and here and there the
feather of steam from a launch. He could look, for he was feeling
lighter of heart now that the communication was over.
Perhaps Lance would have been edified could he have heard the
colloquy—-
"Gillian! you do care for me after all?"
Gillian tried to take her arm away and to say, "Common humanity," but
she did not get the words out.
"No, no!" he said. "Confess that if it had been that fisher-boy, you
would not be here now!" and he kept tight the arm that she was going
to take away. Her face was in a flame.
"Well, well; and if-—if it wasn't, you need not make such a fuss
about it."
"Not when it is the first ray of hope you have afforded me, for the
only joy of my life?"
"I never meant to afford—-"
"But you could not help."
"Oh, don't! I never meant it. Oh dear! I never meant to be worried
about troublesome things like this till I had got older, and learnt a
great deal more; and now you want to upset it all. It is very—-very
disagreeable."
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