The Eldest Son Part 8

"We shall be the ornament of every drawing-room to which we are introduced," said Joan. "I think we're worth polis.h.i.+ng off handsomely, don't you, Sis? Have you noticed how awfully pretty we're getting?"

"Now that is a thing," broke in Miss Bird, "that no well-brought-up girl ought to say of herself, Joan."

"But, Starling darling, it's true, and you can't deny it," replied Joan. "We must tell the truth, mustn't we?"

"The new booking-clerk at the station casts admiring glances at us,"

said Nancy. "At first it made us uncomfortable; we thought we must have s.m.u.ts on our noses. But at last we tumbled to it. Cicely, we are loved, not only for our worth, but our beauty."

"You are a couple of donkeys," said Cicely, laughing. "Well, I'm glad you're going to apply yourselves to learning, although it's a dreadful thing to be losing our dear old Starling. Kencote will be quite changed."

"There are many changes coming about at Kencote," said Nancy. "Joan and I can feel them in the air. We'll let you know when there's anything more to tell you, Cicely."

"Thank you very much," said Cicely. "I think I had better go downstairs now."

The twins went with her, and on the stairs Cicely said, "I didn't like to say it before Starling, but I think you're awfully lucky children, to be going to be taught things. _I_ never was. I do hope you'll take advantage of it."

"Oh, I _do_ hope we shall," said Joan. "It is such a chance for us.

We feel that."

"Deeply," acquiesced Nancy. "If we don't we shall never forgive ourselves--never."

CHAPTER VI

BLAYTHORN RECTORY

d.i.c.k, when he had left Mountfield, trotted on at a slightly faster pace than he had hitherto come, in the direction of Blaythorn, and did not draw rein until he came to that rectory concerning whose occupancy his relations and connections were so exercised. It was a dull house, with a short, weed-grown drive behind a rather shabby brick wall and an overgrown shrubbery, on the outskirts of the village. He got off his horse and rang the bell, which was presently answered by a smart parlourmaid, who gave him a discreet smile of welcome, and whisked off at his request, with a flourish of petticoats, to fetch a groom from the stableyard hard by. Then she showed him into the drawing-room, where two women were sitting by the fire, one of whom rose to greet him with an exclamation of pleasure, while the other gathered up her work deliberately and prepared to leave the room.

Lady George Dubec was a tall, slender woman in the early thirties, or possibly only in the late twenties. Her face was a little worn, but her eyes were deep and l.u.s.trous, and her features delicate. When she smiled she was beautiful. Her dark hair was elaborately braided; her slim figure looked well in a black gown of soft folds. She had thin, almost transparent hands, covered with jewels. She moved gracefully, and her voice was low, but clear and musical, with only the suspicion of an un-English intonation.

"Oh, d.i.c.k, what a G.o.dsend you are," she said as she gave him both her hands. "Toby and I were wondering how on earth we were going to get through the rest of the afternoon and evening."

"I wasn't wondering at all," said the other lady, who had now also risen and shaken hands with the visitor. "I knew you would come. So did Virginia, really. We were talking about you. I will now retire to another apartment and leave you alone."

"Indeed you'll do no such thing," said Virginia Dubec, taking her by the shoulders and pus.h.i.+ng her back into her chair. "We will have the lights and tea--although it is early--and a talk of three together.

We're all friends, and you're not going to sit alone."

"Of course not," said d.i.c.k. "A nice sort of state you'd work yourself up into against me! I know you, Miss Dexter."

She took her seat again and unrolled her work. She was short and rather plain, with sandy-coloured hair and square-tipped fingers. She had not smiled since d.i.c.k had entered the room.

"Oh, I don't deny that I'm jealous," she said. "I've had her to myself for three years, and you have come and stolen her away from me. But it's a harmless sort of jealousy. It doesn't make me object to you.

It only makes me wonder sometimes."

"What do you wonder?" asked d.i.c.k, standing up before the fire and looking down at her with a glance that immediately transferred itself to her companion, on whom his eyes rested with an expression that had a hint of hunger in it.

Virginia answered for her. "She wonders what there is in a man for a woman to cling to--and especially after _my_ experience. She thinks a woman's friends.h.i.+p ought to be enough. _She_ wants no other. We talk over these things together, but we don't quarrel. She knows that I shall always love her, don't you, Toby?"

"Perhaps I do, perhaps I don't," said Miss Dexter. "But we needn't discuss these matters before Captain d.i.c.k. I'll ring for the lights and the tea."

d.i.c.k breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. He was not at home in the discussions of abstract questions. "How do you find yourself here, Virginia?" he asked, looking round him. "You have made this room very jolly, anyhow."

"That's what Mr. Marsh said, in his own particular way," she said, with a smile. "He said, 'If I'd known a woman could do this sort of thing to a house, I'd have married a wife years ago.'"

"And of course Virginia immediately suggested he should marry me," said Miss Dexter. "She is so generous with her belongings."

"It made us very good friends," said Lady George. "A joke of that sort always does. We shall carry it on till the end of my tenancy, and then he will propose to Toby. You'll see, d.i.c.k."

"I shouldn't blame him," said d.i.c.k. "The stables aren't so very bad, are they?"

"Oh, Wilson says they'll do. But I wish you had been able to get me a brighter house, d.i.c.k. It is rather depressing, in spite of all my furbis.h.i.+ng and knick-knacks."

"My dear girl, it was absolutely the only one within reach. We don't let houses for hunting hereabouts. You wait till you see the dower-house. I was there this morning, and really I'd no idea what a jolly little place it is. With the few alterations I'm going to make, and all the jolly old furniture, it will be a topping place. You'll fall in love with it, Virginia."

She sighed. "There are some fences to take before we land up there,"

she said. "I'm rather frightened about it all, d.i.c.k. When will your mother come and see me? Have you told her I am here yet?"

"No," he said shortly. "I shall tell them this evening."

Miss Dexter dropped her work in her lap with a gesture of impatience, and looked up at him. "_Why_ haven't you told them?" she asked. "Are you ashamed of her?"

d.i.c.k's face flushed and his lips tightened. "That isn't a proper question to ask, Miss Dexter," he said. "I know what I'm about, and so does Virginia."

"My dear Toby, for goodness' sake don't make him angry," said Lady George. "I'm frightened of him when he looks like that."

d.i.c.k forced a smile. "My father is a good sort, but he wants managing," he said. "I'll state the case quite plainly once more, as Miss Dexter sees fit to question my action."

"Oh, good gracious!" put in that lady, "I'm not worth all these heavy guns."

"Toby! Toby!" expostulated her friend.

The maid came in at that moment with a lamp and stayed to draw curtains and light candles. d.i.c.k dislodged himself from his stand in front of the fire and took a chair, but left it to the two women to carry on a desultory conversation until they were left alone again. Then he rose once more. "Look here," he said. "We've got to have this out once for all. I'm not going to be twitted for my actions, Miss Dexter."

"Well, please have it out," she said. "I'm listening."

"You are the most tiresome creature in the world," said Lady George.

"I don't want to say anything to hurt you, Virginia," d.i.c.k went on, "but the name you bear would set my father against you--violently."

"Oh, my dear d.i.c.k!" she said, "you don't hurt me in the least, but why go into all that? We understand each other. Toby, I feel as if I could beat you."

"Well," said d.i.c.k. "I won't say any more about that, but you have got to remember it. But there are prejudices to get over besides. He wants me to make the usual sort of marriage with a--oh, you know the sort of female child fellows like me are supposed to marry--his mind is running on it now, and he actually tackled me about it last night.

He's got the young person all ready--that's the sort of man he is--my cousin, Grace Ettien. I said, No, thank you, and I told him I didn't want to marry a youngster--wouldn't, anyway. It's no good beating about the bush, Virginia--until he sees you--_until_ he sees you, mind--you don't fill the bill."

"That's a pleasant way of putting it," said Miss Dexter.

"I won't have another word," said Lady George decisively. "You two are just annoying each other. d.i.c.k, my dear, I think it's just sweet of you to put all your faith in that seeing of me. I adore you for it.