‘No!’ exclaimed Mamie in horrified accents. ‘No, it wouldn’t do.’
‘I shall tell them’
‘No, honestly! They might think – no, James, you mustn’t come into it at all.’
‘Will you do it, then?’
Mamie hesitated, but only for a moment; the alternative was so appalling that she really had no choice. ‘Yes, if you really think, yes, I’ll do it,’ said Mamie.
Chapter Eighteen
Mamie had promised to tackle Lady Shaw about Eleanor’s future; she was not looking forward to the interview, so the best thing to do was to get it over as quickly as possible. She tried to fix a date on the telephone, but her ladyship’s engagement book seemed pretty full.
‘Tuesday is the Blood Donors,’ said Lady Shaw. ‘I shall be busy all day, of course, and on Wednesday I have to go over to Dumfries for a Girl Guide Meeting. Thursday? Oh, yes, I knew there was something. I’m speaking to the Mothers’ Union in the afternoon. Friday is hopeless, it’s the Nursing Association in the afternoon and the Women’s Rural Institute in the evening.’
‘What about Thursday morning?’ Mamie inquired. ‘I could look in and see you about eleven.’
‘Is it about the W.R.I.?’ asked Lady Shaw. ‘You know we’ve got to choose a new Vice-President in place of Mrs. Duncan, don’t you? Yes, I could see you on Thursday morning, but it had better be ten-thirty because I’m having lunch early.’
Mamie let it go at that. It was easier. She could listen to Lady Shaw’s ideas about a new Vice-President for the W.R.I. and agree with them (as long as she doesn’t choose me, thought Mamie in trepidation), and then she could broach the subject of Eleanor.
On Wednesday afternoon Holly came over in the little car, bringing with her some papers from Lady Shaw.
‘Aunt Adela wants you to have a look at these,’ explained Holly. ‘They’re all about the W.R.I. and there’s a list of members. She wants you to make up your mind who to vote for, but I wouldn’t bother if I were you. I mean, Aunt Adela has made up her mind about the new Vice-President.’
‘Yes, but still…’ said Mamie who had uncomfortably high principles. ‘I’d better do it, I think.’ She hesitated and then asked Holly to stay to tea. It was nearly four o’clock and the laws of hospitality made the invitation unavoidable.
‘Oh, I’d love to,’ declared Holly. ‘But as a matter of fact, James said he would be fishing to-day. I thought I would go down to the river and watch him.’
‘Why not come in and have tea?’ urged Mamie. ‘We’ll have it at once. I’m sure you want tea after your drive. Do come in, Holly, I’m all alone.’
‘It’s very kind of you, Mrs. Johnstone, but I’d rather go down to the river,’ Holly replied. ‘James told me about the river: he loves it, doesn’t he? He loves everything about Mureth. He’s very happy that he’s going to be settled here. And of course it is a lovely place. I mean it isn’t as dull as most country places; there’s quite a lot of goings on.’
Mamie opened her mouth to declare that Mureth was not in the least dull, that Mureth was an earthly paradise, but she changed her mind before the words came out. ‘It depends on what you like,’ said Mamie soberly. ‘If you like the country and country occupations, Mureth is nice, but some people don’t, do they?’
Holly smiled in rather a curious way, but did not reply.
‘I mean,’ continued Mamie, ‘I mean, anybody who was fond of town and parties and theatres and things like that would find Mureth very dull.’
Holly was still smiling. She said, ‘But anybody who felt like that need not stay at Mureth all the time.’ Mamie said no more. She watched Holly take off her coat and throw it into the car and walk off to the river. There was defiance in Holly’s walk. She swung her hips, almost as if Mureth belonged to her.
The afternoon seemed endless to Mamie. She could not settle to anything. She had tea by herself, and several times during the meal she got up and looked out of the window. Where were they? What were they doing? Why didn’t they come back?
Jock came in about five o’clock; he had been over at Boscath and was full of rage and fury over the delinquencies of Mackenzie, but very soon he realised that Mamie was not listening to his grievances with her usual attention.
‘What’s the matter?’ he inquired.
‘Nothing,’ said Mamie hastily, for she had decided that Jock must not be told of her anxieties.
‘There is something,’ declared Jock.
‘No, honestly.’
‘It’s Mrs. Dunne again, I suppose.’
Mamie did not reply. She felt guilty and miserable for she hated to keep anything from Jock, and now she had two secrets on her mind: one was her fears about Holly and the other was her prospective interview with Lady Shaw. Neither of these secrets was her own and neither could be divulged.
‘That woman is the limit,’ declared Jock. ‘I wish we could get rid of her, but Willy Dunne is such a decent chap, it wouldn’t be fair.’
‘Goodness, no! We couldn’t do without Willy,’ agreed Mamie. ‘And as a matter of fact, it isn’t Mrs. Dunne. It’s just, I feel a bit unsettled.’
‘Unsettled!’ exclaimed Jock in consternation. ‘Good heavens, Mamie, you’re ill! I’ll ring up Dr. Black.’
Mamie laughed. She laughed quite heartily, for the idea of ringing up Dr. Black amused her a lot; and Jock, watching her, was reassured, for there couldn’t be much the matter with a person who laughed like that.
‘Tell me more about Boscath,’ said Mamie, changing the subject. ‘What are you going to do about Boscath when Mr. Mackenzie leaves?’
‘What should we do?’ asked Jock. ‘If James were married he could live there of course, that would be ideal, but it would be dull for him living alone. I want somebody there during the winter when I can’t be certain of getting across the river.’
‘I know,’ agreed Mamie. She hesitated, and then added, ‘Perhaps you had better wait and see.’
‘You said there was a girl he was fond of.’
Mamie nodded. ‘He told me about her when he came, but he hasn’t mentioned her lately.’
‘Oh, well,’ said Jock doubtfully. ‘We’d better wait. It’s nice having him here – we’d miss him in the house, wouldn’t we?’
They were still talking about James when the drawing room door opened and he walked in. He was wet and dirty but smiling cheerfully, and he held up a string with four nice trout upon it.
‘Four!’ he exclaimed. ‘One each for breakfast and one for Lizzie. I’ve had a grand time.’
‘Good work,’ nodded Jock.
Mamie said nothing. She gazed at him anxiously. He was pleased and happy, but the fish might account for that.
‘Holly has gone home,’ continued James. ‘I gave her a lesson. She doesn’t know the first thing about fishing, but I dare say she would learn with a little practice.’
‘Was Holly Douglas with you?’ asked Jock in surprise. ‘I wonder you caught anything. Women are all right in their proper place, but I’d rather have their room than their company when I’m fishing. What was she doing here, anyway?’
‘She came over with some papers for me,’ explained Mamie.
James was still smiling. He said, ‘Yes , well, if you really want to fish seriously it’s better to fish alone, but all the same, it was rather fun having Holly. She’s friendly and amusing.’
Mamie heaved a sigh of relief. It was all right. Nothing whatsoever had happened.
Chapter Nineteen
The following morning Mamie drove over to Drumburly Tower and was shown into Lady Shaw’s business room at precisely ten-thirty. She found her ladyship seated at a large table covered with papers and letters and typewritten documents. There was a typewriter upon the table, as well as a telephone and a large silver inkstand with an inscription upon it which commemorated the fact that it had been presented to Lady Shaw by the Children’s Welfare League, in recognition of her long and valued services as President.
‘Sit down, Mamie,
’ said Lady Shaw kindly. ‘I’m so glad you were able to come. Just wait a moment until I finish these notes for my address to the Mothers’ Union… There now,’ said Lady Shaw, gathering up the papers and clipping them together neatly. ‘That’s finished. Holly can type them out for me presently. She types quite well: I wish she could stay here longer, it’s most useful.’
‘Is she going away soon?’ asked Mamie hopefully.
‘She was to have gone home yesterday, but she changed her mind, and she’s staying on. She won’t stay long, of course, because she hates the country. Holly is an attractive creature, isn’t she?’
‘I suppose she has lots of admirers,’ ventured Mamie.
‘Oh, my dear!’ said Lady Shaw, laughing. ‘I can’t keep track of Holly’s affairs. Holly gets around, as the Americans put it. Of course there’s no harm in it. Why shouldn’t she have a good time while she’s young?’
‘Yes, but,’
‘I know what you’re going to say and you’re perfectly right. A good time is all very well, but it can’t go on for ever. I was telling her so only the other day and I could see that she was considering it quite sensibly. The fact is, she and her mother don’t get on at all, and they’ve very little money, so unless Holly finds a husband soon she’ll have to find a job; and she won’t like that much. I can’t see Holly sticking to anything for long. But you didn’t come here to talk about Holly, did you?’
‘No,’ said Mamie, ‘I came to,’
‘You’ve looked at the list, I suppose,’ said Lady Shaw, scrabbling amongst her papers. ‘You’ve gone over it carefully and made up your mind whom to vote for.’
‘Yes,’ said Mamie. ‘I think,’
‘We can’t do better than Mary Wood, if she’ll stand. If not it will have to be you.’
‘But I couldn’t’
‘Mary Wood – or you,’ said Lady Shaw firmly. ‘There isn’t much to do and you could do it perfectly well. It’s high time you began to take an active part in public affairs. But there’s no need to worry, I expect Mary will stand. Mrs. Duncan can propose her and you can second her.’
‘I thought of Mrs...’
‘That’s settled, then,’ declared Lady Shaw. ‘If Mary consents to act as Vice-President you can take over the magazines.’
‘It would be rather difficult for me to deliver them,’ objected Mamie. ‘Honestly, Lady Shaw,’
‘If you can’t manage it yourself you can send that boy of Lizzie’s. Children like doing that sort of thing – playing at postman!’ said Lady Shaw, smiling at the idea of giving so much pleasure to Lizzie’s son. ‘He’ll love it if you put it to him the right way.’
‘Yes,’ said Mamie doubtfully. ‘I suppose’
‘It’s splendid that we’ve had this talk,’ continued her ladyship. ‘And I’m so glad we see eye to eye about everything. Of course I disapprove strongly of arranging things before meetings, but there’s no harm in talking things over. Andrew calls it making unilateral agreements,’ declared Lady Shaw, laughing. ‘What I find is unless one sounds people beforehand and finds out exactly what they think, things are all settled in quite the wrong way, and it takes a great deal of time and trouble to put them right.’
‘Yes,’ said Mamie; ‘but don’t you think perhaps,’
‘Thank you so much for coming,’ said Lady Shaw, her eyes straying to the clock. ‘Was that all you wanted to discuss with me?’
Mamie knew that she was intended to say, ‘Yes, thank you,’ and get up and go away, and the temptation to do so was almost irresistible; but she had promised James… and if she did not keep her word James would keep his.
‘No, there is something else,’ said Mamie.
‘About the competitions? There's no need to bother any more about that. The whole is settled, and quite pleasantly settled. I had a little talk with Mrs. Black and she sees she was mistaken so,’
‘It isn’t about that,’ said Mamie, breaking in with the courage of desperation. ‘It’s about something quite different. It’s about Eleanor.’
‘About Eleanor!’ echoed Lady Shaw in amazement.
Mamie nodded. ‘I hope you won’t think it very interfering of me, but I’ve always taken a great interest in Eleanor. She’s so pretty and clever, isn’t she? I think she ought to go to school.’
Mamie paused, but for once Lady Shaw was dumb.
‘I know she has a governess,’ continued Mamie, who had been through this interview so often, in her own mind, that she had memorised every word she was going to say. ‘I’m sure the governess is very capable, and it’s nice for you to have Eleanor at home, but Eleanor ought to have the companionship of other girls – girls of her own age. You said so, didn’t you, Lady Shaw?’
‘I said so?’ asked her ladyship in surprise.
‘At the Youth Club,’ Mamie reminded her. ‘In your opening address. I remember you said what a good thing it was for young people to have lots of friends of their own age.’
Mamie had said what she had intended to say, so she paused again, but Lady Shaw was silent. Somehow the silence was unbearable. Mamie was frightened, and because she was frightened she went on.
‘It’s a pity, isn’t it?’ said Mamie. ‘I mean if Eleanor were the butcher’s daughter she could join the Youth Club and have lots of friends, but as it is she has no friends at all. She would be happier at school with other girls to talk to. You’re so busy, aren’t you? You haven’t time to talk to her. It’s lonely for her to be so much alone.’
There was another silence.
Mamie knew that she had said too much – far more than she had intended. She wondered what would happen. It would not have surprised her if Lady Shaw had risen in wrath and told her to be gone and never again to darken the doors of Drumburly Tower. But Lady Shaw did no such thing; she sat and stared at Mamie with a bewildered expression. It was such a bewildered expression that if Mamie had been in the mood to appreciate humour she might almost have laughed.
‘Mamie,’ said Lady Shaw. ‘What’s all this about?’
‘It’s about Eleanor,’ said Mamie helplessly.
‘But there’s something behind it.’
This was what Mamie had feared. She gazed intently at the silver inkstand so that she need not meet the bright-brown eyes of Lady Shaw.
‘What’s behind it?’ urged her ladyship. ‘I mean why — why have you suddenly,’
‘Because Eleanor isn’t happy.’
‘Happy?’
‘She’s miserable,’ said Mamie frankly. ‘I know it isn’t my business, but,’
‘But she has everything she wants!’
‘I don’t think so, not really. It isn’t enough to have plenty of food and nice clothes. Children need more than that, don’t they? I’ve heard you say so, often.’
‘Yes,’ said Lady Shaw doubtfully. ‘Yes, I never thought.’
‘You’re so busy.’
Lady Shaw took up a glass paperweight and moved it. Then she looked at it and moved it back again.
‘No business of mine, I know,’ murmured Mamie, rising as she spoke. ‘It was only… I thought I would just – just mention it. I mean I haven’t got a little daughter, you see. I would have liked to have a little daughter, so very much.’
Mamie groped for the door handle; her eyes were full of tears so she could not see very well, but she found it and opened the door and went out. Lady Shaw remained sitting at the table, gazing into vacancy.
After a little while her ladyship sighed and pulled herself together, and her eyes fell upon the notes she had written for her talk to the Mothers’ Union. She took up the little sheaf of papers and looked at the headings… and then quite slowly and deliberately she tore it up into little pieces and dropped them into the waste-paper basket. Lady Shaw had decided she could not address the Mothers’ Union. They would have to find somebody else. It was very short notice, and they would be annoyed and surprised beyond measure, but that could not be helped.
Meanwhile Mamie was driving home. Her state of mi
nd was unenviable, for the reaction had set in and her conscience was pricking her uncomfortably. She ought to have been pleased with herself for having made Lady Shaw listen to what she had to say, it was a feat few people managed to accomplish, but Mamie was not pleased with herself, for she had begun to wonder whether she had done right. Perhaps school was not the best place for Eleanor. The child was delicate and unusual; she might get ill; she might hate school; she might be even more miserable at school than she was at home. In addition to this, Mamie was aware that she had hurt Lady Shaw very badly; she had said too much, because she was frightened, of course. She should have accomplished her object by gentle hints instead of using bludgeons. That’s me all over, thought Mamie sorrowfully. I knew I wasn’t the right person to do it.
The third thing that worried Mamie was the worst worry of all. It was the information she had received about Holly. Lady Shaw had spoken quite affectionately of Holly, but every word she uttered had confirmed Mamie in her opinion that Holly was not the right wife for James. Mamie wanted the very best for darling James. She knew how wonderful married life could be, but she knew it could be wonderful only if two people were absolutely right for one another and could share all their pleasures and interests.
Jock had said he did not like Holly. Mamie did not like her either, but she tried to put prejudice aside and be perfectly fair. She tried to see Holly as a farmer’s wife, but she couldn’t. Holly was not cut out for a quiet life; she would be discontented and miserable in the country, miles away from all the fun and gaiety to which she was accustomed.
Long ago, soon after her marriage, Mamie had discovered that she could not have a child. It had been a bitter disappointment, an almost unbearable grief, not only on her own account but because she had failed Jock in not giving him an heir to Mureth. For years Mamie could hardly speak of it – could hardly think of it without tears – but gradually the bitterness faded, only the sadness remained, and when she and Jock had got over the disappointment they had set their hearts upon James. They were both convinced that if they had been blessed with a son he would have been exactly like James; and lately, while James had been living with them, this conviction had been strengthened: James was almost perfect. Mamie had prayed fervently that James would like Mureth and settle down, for she could not bear to think of Mureth going to a stranger when she and Jock were dead – going to somebody who would not understand it and love it and take care of it – and now her prayer was answered. James would have Mureth and would take the name of Johnstone, so there would still be a Johnstone of Mureth in spite of her failure to provide a natural heir. And James would be happy here for he loved the place and he had a flair for farming (so Jock said, and who could know better?). Yes, James would settle down and be happy – but not if he had a discontented wife.
Music in the Hills (Drumberley Book 2) Page 13