Strangers at the Abbey

by Elsie J. Oxenham

  “No, but I always think you’re going to.”

  “Then don’t think it any more. You’ll have to start earlier than this to-morrow, my child.”

  Rykie said no more about not going to school. If school was the condition on which she could have special classes in her desired subjects, she would go, but she did not intend to over-exert herself. And if there was a school play, she meant to be in it and to make a name for herself among these girls. It would all be good practice.

  “You will find out about ballet classes, won’t you?” She looked anxiously at Joan.

  “Presently,” Joan retorted. “I must see that you are in earnest about school first. If you’re going to slack and fool about I shan’t take any trouble over you.”

  “Then I won’t go to school,” Rykie muttered.

  “No, you’ll go back to town,” Joy said pleasantly, rising to go and get out the car. “Don’t be an ass! You can’t get round Joan; you’ll soon realise that. I can’t, and I’ve tried often enough. She can cope with any of us; she’d have made a splendid school-mistress, if she hadn’t inherited the Abbey. I’ll be ready for you in ten minutes, Jenny-Wren.”

  “Joy talks a lot of nonsense,” Joan observed. “You go to school and throw yourself into things and do good work, and I’ll see about your classes, Rykie. But if it should happen that you are needed for the play, extra classes will have to wait till next term, or till the holidays. You can’t take on too much at once.”

  “You promised I should have ballet lessons if I went to school,” Rykie said indignantly.

  “So you shall, but not while you have a big part in a play. If you do too many things, you’ll do none of them well. Don’t be silly! There will be Saturday rehearsals; the Dramatic can’t possibly put on a play with only after-school practices. When would you go to your classes? If the Dramatic want you, I’ll see about ballet lessons after the play is over.”

  Rykie looked very dissatisfied, but she did not dare to say any more.

  Jen caught Joan for a private word. “Joan, are you going to take her into the Abbey?”

  “I thought so. She ought to see it. But I don’t believe she’ll care much about it.”

  “Neither do I. I’d have liked to be there, to hear what she says.”

  Joan gave her a meaning grin. “Don’t you think it’s wiser not?”

  “Oh!” said Jen. “I see. You think I might say things that would make her mad?”

  “You love the Abbey so much that you might be hurt, if she didn’t appreciate it. I’ll tell you how she reacts.”

  “You love it more than I do. But I suppose you won’t say as much as I should. Do you mean that, Joan?”

  Joan laughed. “I fancy my feelings are under better control. I shan’t let fly, as you might do. I’m used to showing the Abbey to people who don’t really care about it and are just curious.”

  “Tourists and Americans, and people who say ‘quaint,’ ” Jen agreed. “That’s true, of course. There’s Joy calling; I must run. Tell me at night!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE OPPOSITE POINT OF VIEW

  “Like to come with us, just for the run?” Joy asked, as Rykie stood at the door looking at the car.

  “No, please!” Jen cried. “I want to rub up my French. If she comes, I shall talk; I always do. She’ll see plenty of school presently, and she’ll soon know all about the road, if we ride every day. I’m not being piggy, Rykie, but if I don’t know those verbs I’ll have to do them after school, and then I shall keep Joy waiting; and I don’t know them yet. Joy, you won’t talk all the way, will you?”

  “I’ll keep a solemn silence, with my eyes fixed on the road,” Joy promised.

  “Rykie is going to unpack and put her things away tidily,” Joan said. “Her trunk is waiting for her. Then we’re going to see the village. Joy will take her round the garden this afternoon.”

  “I’ll tell the Dramatic people to look out for you to-morrow,” Jen called to Rykie, as the car set out. “You could look up bits of Jaques; then you’d be ready to show them you can do it.”

  “Jen is in too much of a hurry, as usual,” Joan warned Rykie, as they turned back into the house. “It’s quite possible the Dramatic won’t want to put in a new girl at her very first appearance. In spite of Jen, they may have somebody in their minds for Jaques; Jen isn’t a member of the Society and she only hears the ordinary school gossip. Don’t count too much on being given the part! Later, when they know you, I expect they’ll want to use you.”

  Rykie said nothing. If she went to school, she meant to be in the play. She felt she had it in her to make an outstanding success of Jaques.

  On their way home from the village Joan brought her through the Abbey ruins and introduced her to the caretaker, Ann Watson, and to the cats—the Mother Superior, the Curate and Gray Timmy. To these Rykie gave little attention; they were just cats to her; and Joan, to whom they were friends and companions, smiled and shooed them away to play. She led Rykie to the green garth, the broken cloisters, the site of the great church; to the vaulted chapter-house, the monks’ day-room, and their long light dormitory; and took her up to the beautiful refectory to see its treasures, the ancient Abbey books and parchments and the jewels which had belonged to Lady Jehane. She told how these had been buried in the old church by the lay brother, Ambrose, who had loved Jehane; how they had been found by herself and Jen, still hidden near the tomb of the first Abbot, Michael; and how Ambrose, after years of wandering, had found his way back to the Abbey, to spend his last days living in the gate-house, looked up to by the country folk as an old saint, happy with his birds and his striped cat, Minette, and her baby.

  “We only found that story last summer. We keep finding new things about Ambrose and the Abbey,” she explained.

  Rykie stood gazing at the jewels. “I love stones. These are good ones, I’m sure. I expect they’re worth a lot.”

  She had no eyes for the parchments, or for the beautiful wide windows, the lovely angel roof, the half-defaced crucifix on the end wall, or the reader’s pulpit. The jewels had her whole attention.

  Joan led her away to see the crypt, in which they had been found, and the mysterious tunnels, leading out to the hillside, to the gate-house, or to the Hall. But Rykie did not like the tunnels.

  “They’re horrid,” she said. “Suppose you lost yourself, or your torch went out? It would be gruesome.”

  “They aren’t exactly the place to be in without a light,” Joan agreed. “You’re careful to take your torch, of course.”

  Under Joy’s guidance, Rykie made a tour of the gardens, orchard, and garages, and visited every corner of the house. Then Joan joined them in the car and they raced off to fetch Jen from school.

  She came flying out of the gate, while Rykie eyed the great buildings with distaste. She had not the slightest wish to start a new school life, and would only go under protest and because she had been bribed.

  “French all right?” Joy asked, opening the door to the front seat.

  “Not too bad. I just pulled through. Can’t Rykie come here with you? I want to go in the back with Joan.”

  “Care for a front seat, Rykie? We’ll go home the other way and show you more of the country,” Joy said obligingly.

  The change was made, and Jen cuddled down beside Joan with a sigh of content. “All right, Joan-Queen?”

  Joan smiled at her and spoke in a cautious whisper. Joy was talking to Rykie, pointing out places and telling where the various roads would lead.

  “Dreadful!” Joan gave her verdict. “She didn’t care a scrap.”

  “About the Abbey? How awful! I knew she wasn’t our sort. Did she say ‘quaint’?”

  “She did. ‘It’s a quaint old place’; that was how she put it.”

  “Did you slay her on the spot?”

  “Oh, no! I just smiled. She can’t help it. The only things that pleased her were Jehane’s jewels. She was fascinated by them.”

  “I hop
e she doesn’t pinch some of them,” Jen said gloomily.

  “Jen, how can you?”

  “Well, she might have a try. I’d better not talk about the Abbey, if that’s how she feels. Perhaps it’s a good thing I wasn’t there.”

  “Just as well,” Joan agreed. “You’ll only annoy her, if you say much about the Abbey.”

  “Did you see the cats?”

  “Oh, yes, they were there. But Rykie took no notice of them.”

  “Not a catty person, like we are,” Jen groaned. “Didn’t she see how pretty Timmy is, and how sweet the Mother Superior looks?”

  “She hardly glanced at them. She’s evidently not a cat-lover. I object to being called catty.”

  Jen grinned. “Did she like the house?”

  “Oh, yes! She loved it; she’s greatly impressed by Joy’s position as the heiress. But I’ve a feeling that it’s the size of the house and the whole estate that weighs with Rykie—the great hall, the big rooms, the large gardens. She feels the importance of living in such a fine place. She doesn’t see that the gardens and park are beautiful, or that the house is like a lovely picture.”

  “It’s the bigness,” Jen assented. “It would be. That’s the sort of thing she cares about.”

  “She’s very polite to Joy,” Joan said, with a laugh.

  “I say, Joan! I’ve made a mess of things again. She can’t be Jaques. They’ve given the part to Aileen Carter.”

  Joan knit her brows. “What a pity you said anything about it! I’m afraid she’s counting on being in the play. Silly of her, of course, but she seems terribly keen. It’s the kind of thing she really cares about.”

  “I expect she can be in the play, but she can’t be Jaques. If she’s any good they’ll find her a small part.”

  “She won’t like that,” Joan remarked.

  “I told Muriel about her; she’s secretary to the Dramatic, though she doesn’t act herself. She said they’d shove her in somewhere if she was good enough.”

  “You’d better tell Rykie as soon as you can, but not in the car. She’ll be rather cut up, I’m afraid.”

  Jen heaved another deep sigh. “I wish she was different. I expect she’ll loathe and despise country-dancing. She isn’t like us in any single way.”

  “I’ve been thinking about her.” Joan spoke cautiously.

  “It’s all right,” Jen assured her. “She’s not listening. She’s much too thrilled by Joy’s talk. Joy’s far more important than we are. What did you think about her, Joan? And why did you? Did you have to do it? Wasn’t there anything nicer to think about?”

  Joan stifled a laugh. “Don’t be too hard on her, Jenny-Wren! Don’t you realise what has happened?”

  “I thought I did. Rykie has come to live with you, and she’s all wrong; she doesn’t fit in. She’s a complete stranger to the Abbey and all its ideas. That’s right, isn’t it?”

  “As far as it goes. But I want you to see more in it than that. Don’t you understand? She’s the opposite point of view, come to live with us.”

  Jen stared at her. Then she chuckled. “Of course she is! She’s the opposite of us in every way. I shall call her that; no, it’s too long. I’ll call her the O.P.V. Then I shall remember that she can’t help it; she thinks of everything in the opposite way. I’m glad you told me! Now I shall be ready for her, and it won’t be a shock, every time she looks at things wrongly. It will make it much easier to bear.”

  Joan laughed out. “Jen dear, you are funny! It should broaden our minds quite a lot. We all think alike; we love old things and things that are beautiful, for their own sake; we’re all keen on folk-dancing and the Abbey and the hills and the cats. Rykie doesn’t care two hoots; she can only see the value of Joy’s inheritance and of Lady Jehane’s jewels. The old stories mean nothing to her; she’ll never climb the Monks’ Path for the sake of the hermit in his cell! She’s not in the least interested in the romance of Ambrose and Jehane; she thinks we’re silly about those ancient days. She’s our opposite in every way, and she’s been plunged into our midst; and she’s going to stay. It ought to be very good for us, and for her. Plenty of new ideas for us all!”

  “The O.P.V.,” Jen said firmly.

  “Don’t say that to her!”

  “No, she wouldn’t understand, and she might be mad. It’s clever of you to have thought of it, Joan.”

  “Remember that Rykie can’t help it. Our ideas are as new to her as hers are to us.”

  “And quite as horrid, I expect. I’ll make allowances for her; that’s what you mean, isn’t it? But I’m not going to let her change my way of looking at things!”

  “I don’t believe she could do that,” Joan said. “Be careful what you say to her! Sometimes you’re just a little in a hurry, you know.”

  Jen grinned. “I will take care. Oh, how I do want my tea!”

  “We’re nearly home. After tea you must tell Rykie about Jaques.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TALKING TO JOAN

  “I’m awfully sorry, Rykie!” Jen had given her news. “I had no idea anybody had been chosen.”

  Rykie sat looking gloomy. “If I’d do it best, they’d have to give it to me. Is this Aileen girl any use? You said no one was good enough.”

  “They read parts of the play yesterday, after school, and Aileen wasn’t too bad, so they decided to try her. They can’t take the part away from her now.”

  “Is she frightfully keen?”

  “Sure to be. Who wouldn’t want the chance?”

  “Aileen Carter?” Joy asked. “Any relation of Carry Carter, who was my maid-of-honour? She’s left now, of course. Who is Aileen Carter?”

  “Carry’s cousin. She isn’t like Carry to look at; she’s tall and dark.”

  “She’ll look more like Jaques than Rykie would; I’m sure Jaques was black and tall. She won’t give up the part, now that she’s got it; that family never gives up anything. Look at the way Carry carried on as my maid when we’d had that row and hated one another like poison! I couldn’t get rid of her.”

  “Aileen may not be like Carry,” Joan remarked.

  “I bet she is; same family. Give up all thoughts of being Jaques, Rykie! Aileen will stick to him for all she’s worth.”

  Rykie said nothing, but her thoughts were obviously busy.

  “You’ll come to school to-morrow, won’t you?” Jen asked wistfully. “The girls want to see you. Have you tried Joy’s bike?”

  “It fits me all right. It’s a lovely bike. But I like the car,” Rykie said curtly.

  “Oh, so do I! But Joy can’t go on running us in to school. It takes up too much of her time.”

  Rykie said no more, and the girls settled down to work in the library, Jen at prep, Rykie busy with a book.

  As she said good night to Joan, Jen managed to whisper a private word. “Come and talk, Joan! I want to say something.”

  “Yes. But be very quiet,” Joan warned her.

  When she slipped into the small room, Jen was sitting up in bed waiting for her, thoughtfully plaiting her long locks. She flung the yellow braids back and remarked, “Rykie says I ought to cut this off and have a perm.”

  “You won’t be you, if you do. And you needn’t come here again.” Joan sat on the bed. “Whisper, Jenny-Wren. She mustn’t think we have secrets from her.”

  “Even if we have! Did you see what she was doing while I did my prep?”

  “Reading Shakespeare? She borrowed my copy during the morning.”

  “She was learning that speech—‘All the world’s a stage.’ She means to be Jaques.”

  “How silly of her! She can’t expect Aileen Carter to be turned out for her sake.”

  “She does expect it,” Jen sighed. “She’s sure nobody could be as good a Jaques as she would be. I say, Joan! I’m frightfully sorry I put it into her head. I haven’t been much help to you, have I? You must jolly well wish I wasn’t here. Why don’t you send me back to school?”

  Joan laughed under her
breath. “We’re definitely very glad you’re here. It would feel odd to have Rykie alone; two seems much more natural. Don’t worry about Jaques! If Rykie is really as good as she thinks, they’ll give her another part. Or are all the parts filled?”

  “I don’t think so, but I don’t know for certain. I’d better not make an ass of myself again by having any more bright ideas! Beetle’s going to be Audrey—you know, the silly one who giggles. She’ll do it jolly well.”

  “Rykie wouldn’t want to be Audrey, I’m sure.”

  “She wants Jaques and nobody else,” Jen groaned. “I hope she won’t go to school and say so!”

  “She could hardly be as tactless as that,” Joan said.

  “Did Joy play to her?”

  “Yes, but Rykie didn’t care about it. She listened and said it was quite nice and that it was a lovely piano and must have cost a lot.”

  Jen snorted. “It’s all she cares about; how much things are worth. Did Joy play Chopin?”

  “She played that Nocturne we all love so much. Then she played some little things of her own. I think Rykie was impressed by that. She stared at Joy and said she must be jolly clever.”

  “I’m glad she had that much sense!”

  “She isn’t really musical,” Joan remarked. “She needs music for her dancing, and she wants to sing, but it’s because both will be useful in her career. It isn’t that she cares much for music.”

  “Why doesn’t she stick to acting, if she’s so keen?”

  “I don’t know,” Joan admitted. “I should have thought it would be better to specialise in one line. But then we know nothing about these things; we’re complete and utter outsiders.”

  “And she despises us as much as we—well, not quite that, perhaps!” Jen looked at Joan doubtfully.

  “No, not that. But I’m sure she thinks we’re as odd as we think she is. I suppose it’s this film idea.” Joan pondered Rykie’s attitude. “She doesn’t know what will be wanted, and so she means to be prepared for anything. I made her talk while we were out together this morning. She’d rather get a job in films than anything.”