Strangers at the Abbey

by Elsie J. Oxenham

  When Angus had been explained and introduced, and stood before little Mrs. Shirley, he felt again that rush of shame which had overwhelmed him when he had heard of the gift of the ruby and which had driven him to come. But, though it had been a bitter ordeal, he was thankful he had yielded to the impulse. It was going to be a great thing in his future life to know he was linked with people like these, even though there was no real relationship.

  Mrs. Shirley looked at him, gravely kind. “I am glad you came. It is well that we should know you. Some day I am sure we shall be proud of you.”

  “Couldn’t he play to her? She’d like it,” Rykie suggested, while Angus silently vowed that they should indeed be proud some day.

  “At once, then, before the dancing starts,” Joy said. “We can’t have competing violins! Play those Scottish dances; were they reels?”

  “And strathspeys.” Angus lifted the violin to his shoulder. “But I’d rather do something gentler, for her.”

  With innate good taste he followed the dances with some of the sweetest of the Scottish songs, and Mrs. Shirley sat entranced, and thanked him warmly when Joy put an end to the concert by bringing cups of tea.

  “The dancing’s beginning. We mustn’t interfere with their music,” she said. “After tea we’ll go out and you shall see how you like our English dances.”

  The Hamlet Club girls were whirling through “The Old Mole,” when the move to the terrace was made, Joan and Jen dancing together as second couple. Angus and Rykie watched the arches and heys and cast with startled eyes.

  “Fascinating!” he said. “Could they do it again?”

  “I expect it’s the second or third time through,” Joy laughed. “Jen looks hot! Let them get their breath and then they’ll show you something else.”

  Jen came racing to them. “Everybody’s panting and breathless, and we want to have ‘Goddesses’ next! We shall all be dead. Couldn’t Angus play to us while we breathe?”

  The Club had collapsed on their rugs. Joan said a word to Cicely Hobart, the President and M.C., and she explained to the girls that while they rested a guest visiting the Hall would play some Scottish dances for them.

  Angus stood on the terrace and seemed to pour out tunes without a break of a single beat—“The Deil amang the Tailors,” “Kate Dalrymple,” “The Fairy Dance,” “Soldier’s Joy,” “The Flowers of Edinburgh,” and the first tune again to finish.

  Rykie murmured the names to Jen, who stood enthralled.

  “Lovely—oh, lovely! I’d like to dance! But why doesn’t he stop between?”

  “It’s the Eightsome Reel. He mustn’t lose a beat.”

  “He never does! Is it all one dance? It’s a long one! Oh, we’ve a dance to ‘Flowers of Edinburgh’! He’s played this one before! Why does he do it twice?”

  “It’s the tune he started with. You begin and end with the same tune—for the introduction and finish.”

  “I see. Couldn’t he tell us what to do?”

  “Perhaps Rykie could teach us a reel some day,” Joan said. “Go and work off your energy in ‘Goddesses’! No, I’m not coming this time; Nesta wants you for a partner. Thank you, Angus! Our Club enjoyed that.” For the girls were clapping vigorously. “I don’t wonder you can make your living by playing for dancing! Now watch some more of our English dances.”

  “Goddesses” was followed by “Hunsdon House,” and the visitor’s eyes opened widely at the contrast in style. “That’s like a minuet,” he said. “But a lovely tune. I like your music and your fiddler.”

  “Miss Lane has played for us for years. We’ll show you ‘Hey, Boys,’ for only four dancers, and ‘Picking Up Sticks,’ for six, and ‘Newcastle,’ for a round, and some longways. Then you’ll have a good idea of the variety in our dancing. What do you think of it, Rykie?”

  “It looks all right for parties. It’s no use, of course,” Rykie said simply.

  Joan smiled. “For the stage? No, no use at all. It’s just for fun.”

  Joy came up to Angus. “I’ll run you to Wycombe in the car, if you can wait till after the party. Some of the girls have come by train and they’ll be glad of a lift home. We can make room for two or three.”

  “You’ve been awfully kind.” Angus reddened and spoke fervently. “It’s as if you’d forgotten all about——”

  “We’re much nearer forgetting than we were before you came,” Joy said. “You’ve put it out of our minds by coming to see us and then by your music. We’ll never think of it again.”

  “You are jolly decent, all of you!” Rykie said vehemently. “Some day we’ll show you how we feel, Angus and me!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ISABELLA VAN TOLL

  Rykie looked at Joan shyly when the last country-dancer had gone, and Joy had driven off with Angus beside her and the back seat packed with tired girls. “Do you think I ought to tell Belle? I must write to her to-morrow. It will upset her to hear about Angus and—and about me. It was really my fault, wasn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid it was. Don’t you want to own up?”

  “No!” Rykie said fervently. “But it might come out somehow, and that would be worse.”

  “Much worse. I should tell her the whole story; secrets in families are always uncomfortable. And Belle started the trouble by suggesting you should borrow from us and go to her.”

  “That was the beginning of it,” Rykie agreed. “But she didn’t mean——” and she paused.

  “I’m sure she didn’t. It was your own very silly idea, wasn’t it?”

  Rykie stared across the lawn, reddening slowly. “I’ll be more sensible. I’ll remember how kind you’ve been, and I’ll write to Belle, if you think I should. But I won’t send it by air-mail. There’s no hurry.”

  “You couldn’t say enough in an air-mail. You’d better write a long letter and tell Belle all about it.”

  The letter was difficult, and though Rykie seemed to work at it on Sunday, it was not finished. She put it away gladly and plunged into school work; and this time she did not neglect her prep.

  “Don’t you want to finish your letter?” Jen asked.

  “It will do next week,” Rykie retorted.

  She put her heart into the play and worked hard as Jaques, anxious now to do credit to Joan as well as to herself. She taught the Eightsome Reel, and showed that she had a very pretty step, to a set of dancers invited to tea on Saturday, and Cicely and Miriam, Joan and Joy, Jen and Nesta, Muriel and Beetle, learned the Scottish steps and enjoyed the dance and the music, which Joy had found in a Wycombe shop.

  “Marguerite would have loved this, but she’s in France,” the President said. “A good thing Mirry isn’t being married till July, or we couldn’t have had our set of Queens and maids.”

  “If the Club wants it they shall have a try, now that we eight know it, thanks to Rykie,” Joan remarked. “But we won’t do much of it. That step for setting would ruin our set-and-turn-single; the girls are inclined to be on their toes as it is. We’ll need to be careful.”

  Next day she seated Mrs. Shirley in a big chair on the side lawn, under the trees where the party had been held, and they all encamped round her, on seats or rugs, to read and write letters.

  “You’d better finish that three-volume novel to Belle, Rykie,” Joan said. “We shan’t be interrupted here. We can see the drive, so if visitors come we shall have warning. The sun’s too hot on the terrace.”

  “I must write to Mother,” Jen said.

  “Joy and I are writing to Jandy, so we shall be a busy crowd,” Joan added.

  They were lazily at work, Mrs. Shirley nodding over a book, when at the hoot of a horn they all looked up.

  “Bother!” Joy growled. “Who comes here?”

  Joan put down her writing-pad and rose, as a large car swept towards the terrace.

  “Who—why, Rykie?”

  A girl hung out of the car, waving. Rykie had sprung to her feet, and now, with a wild shout, she rushed across the lawn.


  The rest stood gazing, dazed with surprise. The girl leapt from the car and Rykie was in her arms.

  “It couldn’t be Belle,” Joy argued.

  “It must be Belle. But how astonishing!” Joan cried. “You wait here, Mother dear. I’ll bring them to you.”

  “Belle’s got a man with her,” Jen said excitedly. “Do you suppose—but how thrilling! Has she got engaged and brought him here to show him off?”

  She raced across the lawn, Joan and Joy close behind. All three were in time to hear Rykie’s shout, as she drew back to stare at her sister’s companion.

  “You’ve married him! Oh, Belle, you’re married!”

  “Four days ago. And why not?” demanded the dark-haired girl.

  She was as unlike Rykie as she could be, with raven-black hair, beautifully waved, big dark eyes and lovely colouring, some, at least, real, though she had added to the effect discreetly. She was like a radiant figure from another world; the tall fair man who followed her from the car looked at her with immense pride in his eyes.

  “Belle is my wife, Sister Rykie,” he said.

  “But I ought to have been there! Why were you in such a hurry? I don’t mind her being engaged; I liked you in London, and I knew you wanted her,” Rykie said breathlessly. “But—married! You might have waited for me, Belle!”

  “Sorry, kid! But Terry had to come to London on a business trip, and he wanted me to come too. There was nothing to wait for. We’ve flown over, and when the business is done we’re going to Paris and perhaps Vienna and Rome. You can come too, if you like.”

  “Oh!” Rykie gasped, and stared at them. “Oh, I’m glad you’ve done it, Belle!”

  “You must be the cousins.” Belle put her sister aside and looked at the three girls, who were waiting in intense interest till the greetings were over. “Will you forgive us for taking you by storm like this? We reached London yesterday. We ought to have phoned, but we thought we’d give this child a surprise.”

  “It’s Belle, Joan!” Rykie’s voice rang out proudly.

  “So we supposed,” Joy said dryly. “What’s her name now? She’s no longer Belle Reekie, I gather?”

  “We’re glad to see you at last,” Joan spoke up. “But you’ve given us a great surprise, as well as Rykie. I am Joan, your cousin. This is Joy, my cousin.”

  “The one everything belongs to,” Rykie put in eagerly.

  “I’m only a friend from school,” Jen added. “I don’t count, as it’s a family business.”

  “This is my husband, Terence Van Toll,” Belle said proudly. “We’re only just married, and we came as fast as we could to tell Rykie our news.”

  “Then you are now Mrs.—what did you say?” Joan asked, a little stunned by the speed of events.

  “Mrs. Van Toll. Terry’s dad owns movie-houses all over the States. I flew to Hollywood with him and his mother, and we—well, we got engaged quite soon.” Belle blushed and laughed.

  “You had met in London?” Joan asked, shaking hands with the new member of the family. “But, of course, Rykie knew you.”

  “Belle Van Toll is an odd sort of name,” Joy remarked.

  Belle flashed a laughing look at her. “Isabella Van Toll is better. Now that I’m a married woman I shall claim my whole name.”

  “Very much better than Belle Reekie!” Joy teased.

  “Isabella Van Toll! Whoops!” Rykie shouted. “It’ll look lovely up in lights over the theatres! Are you going to stay in films? Or have you retired?”

  Isabella Van Toll grinned. “I shall make some pictures before I retire. Both Terry and his dad want me to stay for a while. Then you can carry on.”

  “I’ll never be like you!”

  “You couldn’t be more unlike her, to look at,” Terry Van Toll said, with a laughing glance at Rykie’s lint-white curls.

  “Come and speak to Mother, Belle; you won’t expect us to call you ‘Mrs.,’ I’m sure!” Joan led the way across the lawn. “Mother isn’t strong; she can’t stand much noise or excitement. But she’ll be very glad to see you at last.”

  Belle and Terry looked down at the frail little lady, and Belle’s lovely voice was gentle as she thanked “Aunt Margaret” for her kindness to Rykie. “I ought to have come to see you, but Mrs. Van Toll and Terry found a seat for me in the plane, at the last moment, and—well, I wanted to travel with them so very badly.”

  “You must forgive her, Aunt Margaret,” said Terry, instantly adopting the whole family as relations. “I had made up my mind she must belong to me, even then, and I think she knew. My mother wanted to look after her on the journey, so we coaxed her to throw over everything and everybody and come with us. She wasn’t at all easy in her mind about not coming to see you. But she wanted to go with us.”

  “I guessed,” Rykie said in triumph. “I wasn’t a bit surprised when she told me——” She paused.

  “Told you what?” Terry looked down at his new sister. “There hasn’t been time to tell you anything.”

  “That she thought you were going to ask her, and that if you did she would say ‘yes,’ ” Rykie retorted.

  Belle coloured in a most attractive blush. “I only said I thought it might happen.”

  “You knew,” Terry assured her. “We both knew.”

  “My dear, you are more like your dear mother than Rykie is,” said Mrs. Shirley. “She and I were both dark. She was not as good-looking as you are, but the colouring is the same.”

  “Rykie and Angus are like father; he was fair,” Belle said. “Have you people heard of Angus—our half-brother?”

  There was an awkward pause. Rykie grew scarlet and shrank before Joy’s amused, accusing stare.

  “Why, what’s the matter, kid?” Belle caught sight of her sister’s face.

  “We’ve seen Angus,” Joan said quietly. “He was here last week. He’s in Glasgow now. Rykie will tell you about him presently.”

  Rykie snatched up her letter. “I could never tell you; I should simply die! Read it! I was going to post it to-morrow. It’s all there; but I couldn’t bear to tell you. I’m sorry! Oh, I’m so terribly sorry!” She dashed across the lawn to the house and disappeared.

  “Gosh! What have Angus and Rykie been doing?” Belle exclaimed in dismay.

  “Suppose you go and comfort her, Jen,” Joan suggested. “Joy and I will give these people tea. Belle won’t be hard on Rykie when she understands; make her believe that. You can be a comforting sort of person!”

  Jen reddened. “I’m not so sure of that, Joan dear, but I will try. I’m sorry for Rykie; it’s horrible for her to have Belle’s visit spoiled like this.”

  “Do what you can to help her,” Joan advised.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  RYKIE IN TROUBLE

  “Who is the attractive kid with the pigtails?” Terry asked, as Jen went reluctantly away from the fascinating visitors.

  “A school friend who is staying with us to be company for Rykie. They cycle to Wycombe together; we couldn’t let Rykie ride so far alone,” Joan explained.

  “But what is it all about?” Belle demanded. “Did she bring Angus here? I didn’t know his ship had come back. What has happened?”

  “You ought never to have let him go on that ship,” Joy said severely. “It couldn’t help being bad for his hands; a violinist’s hands are all important. He ought to be careful. Angus is a real musician, though he’s rather crude and unbalanced as yet. A ship was the last place in the world for him.”

  “I couldn’t stop him,” Belle protested. “He’s three years older than I am, and it was his own idea. What you said is true; he is crude and unbalanced, but he really has music in him. I’m sure of it.”

  “Oh, he has! It’s there all right; we heard him play. The trouble has been that he couldn’t bring out the best that was in him. He was going all to bits for want of someone to help him.”

  “Terry will help him now,” Belle said happily.

  “Terry’s too late,” Joy retorted. “Joan
and I have helped him. He’ll be all right, now that he’s going to have his music. But he’s weak and silly, you know.”

  “He always has been.” Belle looked anxious. “Has he been getting into trouble?”

  “You’ll find the whole story in Rykie’s letter,” Joan said. “But I hope you won’t read it till after tea. Mr. Van Toll will be the greatest possible help to Angus later on, when he is ready for help; at the moment Joy and I have done the most that can be done. Angus is all right; you needn’t worry about him now. Here comes tea! I’m sure you are ready for it.”

  Her tone of authority put an end to discussion of Angus and his doings for the moment. Belle, looking grave, put the letter into her handbag and said no more.

  Terry realised there was some trouble to be told. Tactfully he began to talk of their journey and their plans.

  “We shall take Rykie back to the States with us, of course.” Belle looked at Mrs. Shirley. “It’s been terribly kind of you to have her here, but now that I shall have a settled home in Hollywood, I must have her with me.”

  “Certainly her place is with you,” her aunt assented. “But are you sure you would not like her to have a year or two more of English schooling? I can’t help feeling it would be good for her.”

  “But will you have a settled home?” Joan looked up from the tea-cups. “You may have a house as your headquarters, but won’t you be racing all over America or coming to London continually?”

  “Terry can do that. After this trip I shall get down to work,” Belle said definitely. “And my mother-in-law will live near us, and she’s quite charming and very kind. We really will make a good home for Rykie. I want her badly.”

  “In that case we can’t say any more,” Joan admitted.

  “But I hope you will send her to school and not let her do only dancing and singing and elocution,” Joy said severely. “She tried to insist on specialising when she came here; she thought ballet classes were all she needed. Joan sat on her heavily.”

  “She’s only half-educated,” Joan said grimly.

  “But I told her she’d have to go to school!” Belle protested. “Didn’t she say so?”