CHAPTER III
"WHAT IS A PELE EXACTLY?"
"Ollie has changed a good deal during these last three years," remarkedMrs. Whitefield, as she reclined in the least uncomfortable of theVicarage drawing-room chairs, beside a huge and glowing fire such asseldom burned in the little-used grate.
Aunt Ada, opposite, was knitting, with fingers knobby with rheumatism."We think we see a great likeness to poor Mamma in her at times," sheremarked, with that softening of the voice in which she always spoke ofher niece, and which vaguely stirred Ethel's resentment.
"Likeness to Mamma?" she repeated scornfully, "why, she is as like MadocInnes as two peas in a pod! See the way her eyes wrinkle when shelaughs--and that mouthful of little short teeth--and the small-bonedtype, so Welsh, you know. When we took Lord Fishguard's place inGlamorgan last summer we were always meeting people who reminded me ofMadoc! And she is just the same. Yet she seems fairly steady, you say?"
"She is the best girl in the world," put in Aunt Maud fervently. "Weekafter week she hands over nearly half her earnings to Ada and me; andshe gives every satisfaction at the bank. You know Mrs. Barnes onlytook her post there because she was left a widow on very small means.She is a friend of the Otleys, and she told them that Ollie is highlythought of at the Palatine."
"Well, it is to her credit that she should earn her living, but in myopinion a private post would be more suitable," said the rich man's wifereflectively. "It's not a nice thing for the family, you know, havingher in business in the very town where you reside--trudging out to workin all weathers. I wonder if George could get her a better berth. Agood many of our friends keep a private secretary, and it is quite whatGeorge calls a soft job."
Though older than either of her maiden sisters, Mrs. Whitefield lookedyears younger. Her golden hair was not tinged with grey, and her faintsuggestion of three chins suited her Juno type. Aunt Ada, with sparse,fading hair, brushed flat, pale face and spectacles, might have been hermother.
It was the afternoon of Christmas Day, and the young people wereupstairs, planning a charade to be performed next evening. TheWhitefield children had been born at what their mother described as easyintervals. Hugh and Marjorie were in their late teens, Lionel fourteen,and the two youngest still young enough to be in the nursery.
"She is rather pretty, you know," went on the lady, still consideringher niece. "Though I don't know that I admire any type so mixed. Hermother's hair and eyes, with her father's dark skin and eyelashes, makerather a curious effect. Pity she can't marry, poor girl, but I don'tsuppose that's likely."
"She might marry to-morrow if she liked, as I happen to know," burst outAunt Maud, who could not bear to hear Ollie patronized.
"Indeed? Anybody worth having?" was the somewhat surprised rejoinder.
"That depends on what you mean. In my opinion, not nearly good enoughfor her, but well enough off to marry and make her comfortable, and hisfamily would welcome her with open arms."
"Bless me! Then why does she go fagging on at the bank like this?Doesn't the young man object?"
"She hasn't given him the right to object," sighed Aunt Maud, "and Idon't think she will; at least, I should have said so a couple of daysago, but she told me yesterday that she is going out with him--that is,with his family--the day after to-morrow."
"Oh!" Mrs. Whitefield was half interested, half envious. "George and Iwould give her a handsome present," said she, speaking as though thisfact, if known, should weigh heavy in the result. "I suppose I must bepricking up my ears about Marjorie soon," she added. "She hasn'tinherited the Wilson beauty, but she'll be worth picking up, as Georgesays."
"So far as I have observed," said Ada suddenly, "a girl needs only twothings in order to get married. I don't mean a girl with money.Marjorie will get married in any case, she needs no internal charm. Butfor a poor girl, there are two essential things----"
"And they are----?"
"A pair of fine eyes and an empty mind. The fine eyes may now and thenbe dispensed with; but emptiness of mind is indispensable."
"Really, Ada, you mustn't talk like that, even to me! It sounds soembittered. It is sheer nonsense to say men like stupidity."
"Not stupidity--emptiness. A man wants a woman into whose vacant mindhe can pour the image of himself. Jane Austen describes the pose asintelligent ignorance; but I don't think the intelligence matters muchso long as the ignorance is there."
"You are suggesting," said Ethel superciliously, "that Clara and I hadvacant minds, and that you and Maud are single because you were moreintelligent."
"Yes," said Ada bluntly, "I think it's true. I was every bit ashandsome as you, but George would never have married me, because I hadideas of my own. So had Maud. Ideas get in the way. Life is fareasier for a woman who has none. In that case, almost any man will do."
"Which makes one afraid for Ollie's happiness," said Maud softly. "Sheis just a mass of ideas--has a really original mind."
As she spoke, voices were heard, and Hugh, Marjorie and Olwen enteredthe room together. Marjorie, big and bouncing, with the hockey stride,a purplish complexion, and red patches where her eyebrows should havebeen, looked beside Olwen like a coloured supplement in an illustratedpaper beside a Cosway miniature.
They came to obtain permission for Hugh and Marjorie to join the theatreparty next day.
"The Holroyds," said Mrs. Whitefield vaguely, "the people who spoke tous after church this morning, do you mean? Ah, yes. Who are they, Ada?All right?"
"What do you mean by all right? They are friends of ours."
"Well, but you know how careful one has to be nowadays. In our positionwe must pick and choose, I can tell you. If you are in with one lot,you must be out with the other. There are so many jumped-up, commonrich folks about. You should see some of the boys' parents at Oakstone(the big public school in the Midlands where her boys were educated)rolling up in their motors, all furs and diamonds, and then hear themtalk! Yet you have to conform to the standard they set. Hugh used totell me he would rather I didn't go to Oakstone at all than come withoutthe car."
There was a slight pause after this exposition of Mrs. Whitefield'ssocial views; then Aunt Ada said incisively:
"The Holroyds are good people, but they are nothing great socially--justmill-owners, like George."
Ethel's colour rose, but she was not abashed. "How much money havethey, that's the point," said she. "Money talks. Have they enough tomake people forget the mills? George has, you see."
Olwen was shaken with a gust of contempt such as her father might havefelt. She spoke swiftly. "Everyone forgets to be snobbish in talkingto Mrs. Holroyd, because she is sincere and generous and kind," shecried impetuously. "But, if mill-owning is a thing to be forgotten,don't on any account let Hugh and Marjorie run the risk ofcontamination. The awful truth must be confessed, the Holroyds don'tkeep a car."
Mrs. Whitefield laughed sleepily as she gazed at her niece's heightenedcolour. She saw something unusual, something compelling about Olwen.Married to a man with means, she might go far.
"Why, Ollie, we'll take them on your recommendation. I didn't know theywere intimate friends."
"Gracie is my best and oldest friend."
"And what about the son? Is he, too, a diamond in a plain setting?"
"There are four sons," was the quick retort. "You saw the eldest thismorning."
Her aunt smiled at the adroit evasion, and said she had no objection tothe proposed expedition.
When the young people had left the room there was a short silence amongthe sisters. Presently Mrs. Whitefield remarked, "Well, Maud, judgingby that ebullition, she means to have him, doesn't she?"
Maud made a gesture of helplessness. "She ought to have a future," saidshe quite passionately, "only we are so helpless----"
"And being in this bank is so against her. No young man in a goodposition hereabouts would marry a girl who, as all his friends
mustknow, is merely a bank clerk."
"Why don't you invite her to Mount Prospect for six months and give hera chance, Ethel?" asked Ada sharply.
"She wouldn't come," was the placid response. "I can't picture MadocInnes's daughter taking six months' holiday to find herself a husband,can you?"
"It's a case of these ideas Ada was talking of just now," said Maud. "Ifear they will get in her matrimonial way, poor child."
"And after all, the men she would meet at your house are only BenHolroyd over again," chimed in Ada, who was really on the warpath thatday.
Mrs. Whitefield, however, prided herself upon making all allowance forthe inevitable souring of her maiden sisters. "I don't think I shouldcare in any case to make myself responsible for marrying that man'sdaughter to any friend of mine," said she, quite good-temperedly."What's bred in the bone, you know. She might develop very undesirabletraits. Think of poor Clara, with her large, fair beauty, and thislittle spitfire, her father's own daughter if ever a girl was!"
This was too true to be contradicted.
Olwen awoke, upon the day that followed Boxing Day, with a feeling muchlike that of Pippa on her holiday morning. The world, which had for thepast two days displayed closed shutters, was now awake again, and goingon its way as usual. The mill hooters had rung at six, everywhere thetoilers were thronging back to work once more. Yet she still layluxuriously in half Aunt Maud's bed, with a whole holiday before her,and a matinee into the bargain.
As she put on her prettiest blouse, in honour of the day's excursion,she heard the postman's knock; and when she took her place at table, aletter in an unknown hand lay upon her plate. Another reply to heradvertisement!
Hugh and Marjorie were discussing the rival merits of two actresses whowere to appear that afternoon. The vicar was behind his paper, nobody'seyes were upon her. After the sharp disappointment of the other answer,she had no superstitious feeling about this one, but she opened itforthwith.
The enclosure was in a slanting, spidery hand, and the address wasplainly stamped upon the top of the sheet.
"Guysewyke Pele, "Caryngston, "Northumberland.
"Miss O. Innes, Dear Madam,----
"I have seen your advt in last week's paper, and write, in case you maynot as yet have engaged yourself, to tell you that I am in want of ayoung lady as companion and secretary. I live in a very remote spot,and am not as young as I was. You would have no menial duties. Yoursalary would be L5 a month, and I would pay your railway fares. Isuppose you can give me references. I am a widow, my late husband wasfirst cousin to the present Lord Caryngston, to whom I can refer you ifnecessary.
"Should you think this suitable, please come as soon as you can. Evenshould you not desire such a post as a permanency, you might like tocome for two or three months, until you find something else. Would nextweek be too soon?
"Faithfully yours, "CHARLOTTE GUYSE."
Olwen looked doubtful as she laid the letter down. To be companion to asolitary elderly lady in the wilds of Northumberland was not at all whatshe desired. Her training would rust in such a place, she would behopelessly bored. There was a postscript to the letter which she didnot at first see, since it was written overpage.
"There is a valuable library here which requires cataloguing."
This modified her intentions. The writer perhaps really only wantedtemporary assistance. When the catalogue was complete, she might beable to come away again. By that time she would have found out how sheliked the post. She would not feel herself permanently cast away in thewilds.... And it was a way out. Until the offer of release lay beforeher she had not realized how strong was her craving for some change.
It sounded like what Mr. Whitefield would call "a soft job." If shefound herself with a good deal of spare time it might be possible toindulge her secret ambition, which was to become a journalist like herfather. If she could remain at the Pele for a twelvemonth, which didnot sound impossible, she might be able during that time to lay byenough money to take her to London and give her a start.
Breakfast was over before she had come out of her dream. Shakingherself free of fancies, she ran off to help Aunt Maud with the beds,thrusting the letter out of sight for a while, though her mind ran uponthe plan, and played about the thought of the future.
She started upon the day's expedition with an odd feeling ofreinforcement against Ben. He was no longer the sole alternative to thebank. There was a _tertium quid_, should she decide to avail herselfthereof.
Ben and Gracie awaited them with a simple eagerness which took no painsto hide itself. Mr. Witherly, the new curate, proved to be the sixthmember of the party. Ben had ordered a motor to take them to thestation, and had not, as Olwen had feared he might, attired himself in afrock coat. He wore a lounge suit which she thought was new, and lookedbetter than she had ever seen him.
But it need not come to that! Every time she caught the deprecatingglance of his uneasy eye she fortified herself with the assurance of theexistence of the _tertium quid_.
Ben was well known on the line, where he travelled daily to and fro.The guard was attentive, they had an empty compartment, and travelledluxuriously first class; a pleasure in itself to the young bank clerk.
On reaching Leeds, they went and lunched at the Cafe Luxe, to theaccompaniment of a good band. Afterwards, as they sat at coffee in thelounge, Ben as close as he dared sit to Olwen, she asked him suddenly,
"Did you ever hear of a place in Northumberland called Caryngston?"
"Yes, it's a small market town, out on the moors, miles from anywhere."
"No railway?"
"Not to Caryngston. You go on a branch line to a place called PictonBars, I think. It is between the Roman Wall and the Cheviots."
"It sounds remote! Have you heard of a family thereabouts calledGuyse?"
"Lord Carnygston's family name is Guyse. I fancy there are several ofthem in that part."
"Living at a place called Guysewyke Pele?"
"I've heard Guysewyke Pele spoken of several times. It is supposed to bethe finest Pele remaining, next to the one at Chipchase."
"What is a Pele exactly? I thought it was a watch-tower?"
"That's more or less right, but it was a fortress, too. When theborderers went raiding, the women and children and cattle were driveninto the Pele and shut up there. The ground floor was used as a stable,and the larger Peles had a well inside, so that the inmates could holdout for some time."
"Have you seen one?"
"Yes. Quite a small one though. It is in the churchyard atCorbridge-on-the-Tyne. The parson lived there in raiding times. It isquite interesting. You like such things, don't you?"
"Love them. I hate places like Leeds and Bramforth, where the presentday has stamped out and obliterated every trace of former ages."
"But you wouldn't like to live in a very lonely place, would you?"
She laughed. "I am trying to make up my mind."
He went quite pale. "To make up your mind?" he stammered, with such astricken look that her heart reproached her.
"Oh, only an invitation to go and stay in those parts," she repliedhurriedly. "I don't fancy I should like it for long."
"Ben," said Gracie, "we ought to be on the move. This thing begins athalf-past two, you know."
They rose, and went to find taxi-cabs.
The Lonely Stronghold Page 3