CHAPTER VII
It was about eleven, when most of her household chores were done, thatBetty started off to pay an informal call on Miss Pendarth, in some waysthe most outstanding personality in the village of Beechfield.
"Busybody"--"mischief-maker"--"a very kind lady"--"a disagreeablewoman"--"a fearful snob"--"a true Christian"--were some of the epithetswhich had been, and were still, used, to describe the woman to whosehouse, Rose Cottage, Betty Tosswill, with a slight feeling of discomfortbordering on pain, began wending her way.
Olivia Pendarth and her colourless younger sister, Anne, the latternow long dead, had settled down at Beechfield in the nineties of thelast century. When both over thirty years of age, they had selectedBeechfield as a dwelling-place because of its quiet charm and nearnessto London. Also because Rose Cottage, which, in spite of its unassumingname, was, if a small yet a substantial, red-brick house with a goodgarden, paddock and stables, exactly suited them, as to price, and as tothe accommodation they then wanted. The surviving sister was now ratherover sixty, and her income was very much smaller than it had been, but itnever even occurred to her to try and sell what had become to her a placeof mingled painful and happy memories.
In every civilised country a village is the world in little, though itis always surprising to the student of human nature to find how manydistinct types are gathered within its narrow bounds. And if this istrue of village communities all over Europe, it is peculiarly true ofan English village.
Miss Pendarth was a clever woman. Too clever to be really happy in thelife to which she had condemned herself. She had been born many years tooearly to follow up any of the various paths now open to the intelligent,educated woman. Yet she belonged, by birth and upbringing, to thatage-long tradition of command which perhaps counts for most of all to theone class which has remained in England much the same for generations.
The Pendarths had once been very great people in Cornwall, and longrecords of the family are to be found in all county histories. OliviaPendarth was wordlessly very proud of their lineage, and it is noexaggeration to say that she would have died rather than in any waydisgrace it.
A woman of great activity, she had perforce no way of expending herenergies excepting in connection with the people about her, and always inintention at least she spent herself to some beneficent purpose. Yetthere was a considerable circle who much disliked her and whom sheherself regarded with almost limitless scorn. These were the folk, idlepeople most of them, and very well-to-do, who, having made fortunes inLondon, now lived within a radius of five to ten miles round Beechfield.
Miss Pendarth was on excellent terms with what one must call, for want ofa better name, the cottage class. To them she was a good, firm, faithfulfriend, seeing them through their many small and great troubles, andtaking real pains to help their sons and daughters to make good startsin life. Many a village mother had asked Miss Pendarth to "speak" to hernaughty girl or headstrong son, and as she was quite fearless, her wordsoften had a surprising effect. She neither patronised nor scolded, and itwas impossible to take her in.
But when dealing with the affairs of those of her neighbours, who werewell-to-do, and who regarded themselves as belonging to her own class, itwas quite another matter. With regard to them and their affairs she waswhat they often angrily accused her of being--a busy-body and even amischief-maker. Her lively mind caused her to take a great interest--toogreat an interest--in the private affairs of people some of whom shedisliked, and even despised. She was also not as scrupulous as she mighthave been in repeating unsavoury gossip. Yet, even so, so substantiallygood a woman was she, that what some people called Miss Pendarth'sinterfering ways had more than once brought about a reconciliationbetween husband and wife, or between an old-fashioned mother and arebellious daughter. It was hopeless to try to keep from her the news ofany local quarrel, love-affair, or money trouble--somehow or other shealways found out everything she was likely to want to know--and shealmost always wanted to know everything.
There was another fact about Miss Pendarth, and one which muchcontributed to her importance even with the people who disliked andfeared her: she was the only inhabitant of the remote Surrey village whowas in touch with the world of fashion and society--who knew people whose"pictures are in the papers." Now and again, though more and more rarelyas time went on, she would leave Rose Cottage to take part in some bigfamily gathering of the important and prosperous clan to which, in spiteof her own lack of means, she yet belonged, and with whom she kept intouch. But she herself never entertained a visitor at Rose Cottage, fora reason of which she herself was painfully aware and which the morecareless of those about her did not in the least realise. This reason wasthat she was very, very poor. Before the War, her little settled incomehad enabled her to live in comfort in a house which was her own. But now,had not her one servant been friend as well as maid, she could not havegone on living in Rose Cottage; and during the last year, as BettyTosswill perhaps alone had noticed, certain beautiful things, fine bitsof good old silver, delicate inlaid pieces of furniture, and a pair offinely carved gilt mirrors, had disappeared from Rose Cottage.
The house was situated in the village street, with, however, a pavedforecourt, in which stood two huge Italian oil jars gay from April toNovember with narcissi, tulips, or pink geraniums. Miss Pendarth wasproud of the fine old Sussex ironwork gate and railing which separatedher domain from the village street. The gate was exactly opposite theentrance to the churchyard, while at right angles stood the village postoffice. From the windows of her drawing-room upstairs, the mistress ofRose Cottage was able to see a great deal that went on in the village ofBeechfield.
Miss Pendarth's appearance, as is so often the case with an elderly,unmarried Englishwoman of her class, gave no clue to her clever,decisive, and original character. She had a thin, rather long mouth, whatold-fashioned people call a good nose, and grey eyes, and she had keptthe slight, rather stiff, figure of her girlhood. She still wore herhair, which was only now beginning to turn really grey, braided in theway which had been becoming to her thirty years before. The effect, ifneat, was rather wig-like, and the one peculiar-looking thing about herappearance. She always wore, summer and winter, a mannish-lookingtailor-made coat and skirt, and a plainly cut flannel or linen shirt. Atnight--and she dressed each evening--she alternated between two blackdresses, the one a velvet dress gown, the other a sequin-covered satintea-gown.
Such was the woman to whom Betty Tosswill had thought it just as well togo herself with the news of Godfrey Radmore's coming visit to Old Place,and as she walked slowly up the village street, the girl tried to remindherself that Miss Pendarth had a very kind side to her nature. Of all theletters Betty had received at the time of her brother's death, she hadhad none of more sincerely expressed sympathy than that from this oldfriend whom she was now going to see. And yet? Yet what pain and distressMiss Pendarth had caused them all at the time of the Rosamund trouble!Instead of behaving like a true friend, and, as far as possible, stoppingthe flow of gossip, she had added to its volume, causing the story to beknown to a far larger circle than would otherwise have been the case. ButBetty, honesty itself, was well aware that her step-mother had made aserious mistake in not telling Miss Pendarth what there was to tell. Aconfidence she never betrayed.
Betty also reminded herself ruefully that in the far-away days whenGodfrey Radmore had been so often an inmate of Old Place, there had beensomething like open war between himself and Miss Pendarth, and when shehad heard of his extraordinary good fortune, she had not hidden herregret that it had fallen on one so unworthy.
As Betty went up to the iron gate and unlatched it, she half hoped thatthe owner of Rose Cottage would be out. Miss Pendarth, unlike most of herneighbours, always kept her front door locked--you could not turn thehandle and walk right into the house.
To-day she answered Betty's ring herself, and with a smile of welcomelighting up her rather grim face she drew the girl into the hall andkissed her affectionately.
As she spoke, she led the way into a little room off the hall. "I've beentrying to make out to what branch of the Croftons she belongs," she wenton reflectively. "There was a man called Cecil Crofton in my secondbrother's regiment a matter of forty years ago."
"She looks quite young," said Betty doubtfully.
"Old enough to know better than to get herself talked about the firsthour she arrived," observed Miss Pendarth grimly.
"I don't think she can have done that--"
"Not only did she bring a man with her, a Captain Tremaine,--but justbefore he left they had some kind of quarrel which was overheard by twoof the tradespeople who were calling to leave their cards."
"How--how horrid," murmured Betty. But what really shocked her was thatMiss Pendarth should listen to that sort of gossip.
"It was horrid and absurd too, for the man had turned the key in the lockof the sitting-room, and it stuck for a minute or two when one of themtried to unlock the door in answer to the maid's knock!"
"What an extraordinary thing!"
"I could hardly believe the story, but now that I've seen Mrs. Crofton,I'm not so very much surprised!"
"Then you have seen her?" Betty smiled.
"I've just had a glimpse of her," admitted Miss Pendarth grudgingly, "asshe came out of church, a day or two ago, with your sister Dolly."
"She's extraordinarily pretty, isn't she?"
"Too theatrical for my taste. But still, yes, I suppose one must admitthat she will prove a very formidable rival to most of our young ladies.I'm told she's a war widow--and she certainly behaves as if she were."
"I don't think it's fair to say that!" Betty crimsoned. She felt a closekinship to all those women who had lost someone they loved in the War.
"You mean not fair to the war widows?"
"Yes, that is what I do mean. Only a few of them behave horridly--"
There was a pause. Betty was trying to bring herself to introduce thesubject which filled her mind. But Miss Pendarth was still full of thenew tenant of The Trellis House.
"I hear that Timmy's dog gave her a fearful fright."
Betty felt astonished, well used as she was to the other's almost uncannyknowledge of all that went on in the village. Who could have told herthis particular bit of gossip?
"I wonder," went on the elder lady reflectively, "what made Mrs. Croftoncome to Beechfield, of all places in the world. Somehow she doesn't lookthe sort of woman who would care for a country life."
"Godfrey Radmore first told her of Beechfield," said Betty, and in spiteof herself, she felt the colour rise again hotly to her cheeks.
"Godfrey Radmore?" It was Miss Pendarth's turn to be genuinely surprised."_Godfrey Radmore!_ Then she's Australian? I thought there was somethingodd about her."
Betty smiled, but she felt irritated. In some ways Miss Pendarth wassurely very narrow-minded!
"No, she's not Australian--at least I'm pretty sure she's not. They metduring the War, in Egypt. Her husband was quartered there at the sametime as Godfrey." She paused uncomfortably--somehow she found it verydifficult to go on and say what, after all, she had come here to say thismorning.
"I suppose," said Miss Pendarth at last, "that Godfrey Radmore is backin Brisbane by now. One of the strange things about this war has been theway in which those who could have been best spared, escaped."
In spite of herself, Betty smiled again. "Godfrey has come back toEngland for good," she said quietly, "he's coming to-day for a longweek-end."
"D'you mean," asked Miss Pendarth, "that he's coming to stay with thisMrs. Crofton at The Trellis House?"
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Betty. (What odd ideas Miss Pendarth sometimes had.)"He's coming to Old Place of course: he telephoned to Janet from London,and proposed himself."
"I think it's very good of you all to put up with him," said MissPendarth drily, "I've never said so before, my dear, but I thought itexceedingly ungrateful of him not to have come down here when he was inEngland a year ago, I mean when he sent that puppy to your brotherTimmy."
Betty remained silent, and for once her old friend felt--what she tooseldom did feel--that she might just as well have kept her thoughts toherself.
Miss Pendarth was really attached to Betty Tosswill, but she was one ofthose people--there are many such--who find it all too easy to hurt thosethey love.
They both got up.
"I'm afraid you think me very uncharitable," said the older womansuddenly.
Betty looked at her rather straight. "I sometimes think it strange," shesaid slowly, "that anyone as kind and clever as I know you are, does notmake more allowances for people. For my part, I wonder that Godfrey iscoming here at all. As I look back and remember all that happened--Idon't think that anyone at Old Place behaved either kindly or fairly tohim--I mean about our engagement."
Miss Pendarth was moved as well as surprised by Betty's quiet words. Thegirl was extraordinarily reserved--she very rarely spoke out her secretthoughts. But Miss Pendarth was destined to be even more surprised, forBetty suddenly put out her hand, and laid it on the other's arm.
"I want to tell you," she said earnestly, "that as far as I am concerned,everything that happened then is quite, quite over. I don't think thatGodfrey would have been happy with me, and so I feel that we both had agreat escape. I want to tell you this because so many people knew of ourengagement, and I'm afraid his coming back like this may cause a lot ofsilly, vulgar talk."
Miss Pendarth was more touched than she would have cared to admit even toherself. "You can count on me, my dear," she said gravely, "and may Isay, Betty, that I feel sure you're right in feeling that you would havebeen most unhappy with him?"
As Betty walked on to the post office she was glad that _that_ littleordeal was over.
* * * * *
John Tosswill was one of those men who instinctively avoid and put offas long as may be, a difficult or awkward moment. That was perhaps onereason why he had not made a better thing of his life. So his wife wasnot surprised when, after luncheon, he observed rather nervously that hewas going out, and that she must tell Godfrey Radmore how sorry he wasnot to be there to welcome him.
As she remained silent, he added, rather shamefacedly:--"I'll be back intime to have a few words with him before dinner."
Poor Janet! She still loved her husband as much as she had done in thedays when he, the absent-minded, gentle, refined scholar, made his wayinto her heart. Nay, in a sense, she loved him more, for he had becomeentirely dependent on her. But though she loved and admired him, she nolonger relied on him, as she had once done; he had a queer way of failingher at the big moments of life, and now, to-day, she felt it too bad ofhim to shirk the moment of Godfrey Radmore's return. His presence wouldhave made everything easier, for he had never admitted either to himselfor her, that Godfrey had behaved in a strange or untoward manner.
As she turned over the leaves of a nursery-man's catalogue and gazed atthe list of plants and bulbs she could not afford to buy, long-forgottenscenes crowded on her memory.
Radmore had been the violent, unreasonable element in the painfulepisode, for Betty had behaved well, almost too well. The girl would havethrown in her lot with her lover, but both her father and step-mother hadbeen agonised at the thought of trusting her to a man--and so very younga man--who had made such a failure of his life. That he was going out toAustralia practically penniless--nay, worse than penniless, saddled withdebts of so-called honour--had been, or so they had judged at the time,entirely his own fault.
John Tosswill, who had a very clear and acute mind when any abstractquestion was under discussion, had told Betty plainly that she would onlybe a dangerous hindrance to a man situated as Radmore would be situatedin a new country, and she had submitted to her father's judgment.
But how ironical
are the twists and turns of life! If only they had knownwhat the future was to bring forth, how differently Betty's father andstep-mother would have acted! Yet now to-day, Janet tried to tell herselfthat Betty had had a happy escape. Godfrey had been like a bull in thenet during those painful days nine years ago. He had shown himselfutterly unreasonable, and especially angry, nay enraged, with her, Janet,because he had been foolish enough to hope that she would take his partagainst Betty's father.
* * * * *
Acting on a sudden impulse, she went upstairs, and, feeling a littleashamed of what she was doing, went into the room which was to be GodfreyRadmore's. Then she walked across to where stood Timmy's play-box, inorder to find the letter which Betty's one-time lover had written to hisgodson.
The play-box had been George's play-box in the days of his preparatoryschool, and it still had his name printed across it.
She turned up the wooden lid. Everything in the box was very tidy, forTimmy was curiously grown-up in some of his ways, and so she very soonfound the letter she was seeking for.
It was a quaint, humorous epistle--the letter of a man who feels quitesure of himself, and yet as she read it through rapidly, there rosebefore her the writer as he had last appeared in a railing whirlwindof rage and fury, just before leaving Old Place--he had vowed at thetime--for ever. She remembered how he had shouted at her, hurling bitterreproaches, telling her she would be sorry one day for having persuadedBetty to give him up. But though she, Janet Tosswill, had not forgotten,he had evidently made up his mind, the moment he had met with hisunexpected and astonishing piece of good luck, to let bygones be bygones.For, after that first letter to his godson, gifts had come in quicksuccession to Old Place, curious unexpected, anonymous gifts, but evenDolly had guessed at once from whom they came.
No wonder the younger children were all excited and delighted at thethought of his coming visit! Radmore was now looked upon as a fairygodfather might have been. They were too young, too self-absorbed, torealise that these wonderful gifts out of the blue never seemed to wingtheir way to Betty or Janet. Yet stop, there had been an exception. LastChristmas each had received an anonymous fairing--Betty, a beautifullittle watch, set in diamonds, and Janet, a wonderful old lace flounce.Both registered parcels had come from London, Godfrey Radmore being knownat the time to be in Australia. But neither recipient of the delightfulgift had ever cared to wear or use it.
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