There was silence.
“Bell, are you there?” cried Louise frantically.
“Yes, of course I’m here.”
“Well, don’t you see my point?”
“Yes, but—but I don’t want to be selfish. Ellis is all she’s got.”
“That’s just why!” cried Louise more frantically than before. “Bel, listen, I must see you. You must come down here to-morrow. You can talk to Daddy about it—see? Come by the early train and I’ll meet you at Ernleigh. You will come, won’t you?”
“Yes, all right, I’ll come.”
Louise was just putting down the receiver when Dr. Armstrong came in.
“Hallo, something for me?” he asked.
“No. At least——”
“Not Mrs. White?”
“No,” said Louise. “It’s Bel. I’ve told her she must come down to-morrow. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.”
It was obvious to the doctor that something was wrong and a glance at his daughter’s face did not reassure him. “Just a minute, Lou,” he said. “Just give me a minute to wash my hands. You can tell me all about it while we’re having lunch.”
*
2
Louise was not very good at telling people about things; she became too excited and her tongue ran away with her, but fortunately the doctor was used to this peculiarity and was pretty good at disentangling the muddle and putting two and two together; so he listened carefully and occasionally stemmed the flow of narrative with a judicious question and by the time he had finished his helping of veal and ham pie and was starting to eat his pudding he had a reasonably clear idea of the matter.
Dr. Armstrong had an orderly mind so he saw there were two problems: first, whether Bel and Ellis should live at Beckenham ‘on Mrs. Brownlee’s doorstep’: second, whether they should live near Shepherdsford in a dilapidated mansion which Louise had seen that morning. As to the first problem Dr. Armstrong agreed with his daughter that it was a mistake for a newly-married couple to set up house too near their relations—especially in the case of an only son and an adoring mother. As to the second problem, he was not so sure. He pointed out that Ellis Brownlee was an exceedingly busy man and would have to travel daily, so it might be better for them to settle nearer town.
“But they both want to live in the country,” objected Louise. “And you can’t get proper country nearer town and the train service is very good. Lots of men who live in Shepherdsford go up to town daily. Joan’s husband does—you know that, Daddy. Oh Daddy, I wish you could see Fletchers End; you would love it and it only wants——”
“Fletchers End! Oh, I know it well. It used to belong to an old lady called Miss Lestrange. When she died she left it to her nephew who is in the Navy.”
“I told you that, Daddy. I told you it belonged to ‘a naval officer in forrin parts’.”
“So you did—but you didn’t mention his name, nor the name of the house either,” said Dr. Armstrong smiling.
“What was she like? I mean Miss Lestrange. Did she live there all by herself? She wasn’t a patient was she?”
This was another of Louise’s little peculiarities. She often asked two or three—or sometimes four—questions one after another without stopping so that the questionee was left bewildered, not knowing which to answer first. The doctor had discovered that much the best plan was to answer the last question first. By so doing it was often unnecessary to answer the other questions at all.
“She was—latterly,” he said. “Miss Lestrange was really Whittaker’s patient but she fell out with him so she sent for me. I told Whittaker of course, and he said I was welcome to her; he could do nothing with the old lady and he was sick and tired of her vagaries.”
“But you soon had her eating out of your hand?”
He chuckled. “Not on your life! She wasn’t the sort of old lady to eat out of anyone’s hand. She was very short-tempered and touchy, very obstinate and proud—but all the same you couldn’t help admiring her.”
“You mean she was very good-looking?” asked Louise with interest.
“Yes, she was very good-looking indeed, but I didn’t mean that. It was her courage I admired. She suffered a great deal of pain but it never got her down. I admire guts,” added the doctor vulgarly.
“I know you do,” said his daughter. “Well, you’ll speak to Bel, won’t you? I shall take her to see Fletchers End in the afternoon.”
*
3
Louise met her friend as arranged at Ernleigh Station. They kissed each other and both exclaimed at the same moment: “How nice you look, darling!” Then they laughed.
“But you do, really,” declared Louise. “Every time I see you I think you’re nicer to look at. It suits you to be happy.”
“I’m terribly happy,” said Bel with a little sigh. “Ellis is simply perfect; I can’t think why he wants to marry me.”
This modest opinion of her own worth was not shared by her friends. Although not exactly pretty she was delightful to look at; her bright brown hair was brushed back from her forehead in a big smooth wave, her eyes were grey and widely spaced; her mouth, though rather large, curved very prettily when she smiled, her skin was pale, but smooth and unblemished. Not exactly pretty—certainly not beautiful like Louise—but with her own unusual charm. Before her engagement to Ellis Brownlee her expression had been too serious, for she was a lonely creature and her life had been difficult and arduous; but it suited her to be happy, as Louise had told her. The knowledge that she was loved and treasured had given her poise and a gentle dignity—it had given her a glow.
“Silly old donkey,” said Louise giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. “Ellis is a very lucky man—and he knows it. Listen Bel,” she added as she steered her friend to the car which was waiting in the station-yard. “Listen to me. You’ll make an awful mistake if you go and live near Mrs. Brownlee. Daddy thinks so too, and you know how wise he is——”
“Oh, that’s all settled.”
“All settled!” cried Louise in consternation.
“I mean we’ve settled not to buy that house at Beckenham.”
“Thank goodness!”
They got into the car.
“It was awfully silly, really,” continued Bel. “You see I thought Ellis wanted to live at Beckenham and he thought I did. It was only last night when he came in to supper that we suddenly discovered neither of us wanted to live there. Weren’t we idiots?”
“You were, rather,” said Louise frankly. “What a good thing you discovered it in time!”
“Only just in time. Ellis had written the letter offering to buy the house and he brought it to show me. He said, ‘You’re pleased about it, aren’t you? I mean you think you’ll be happy there?’ And I said I’d be happy anywhere if—if we were together. So then it was all cleared up. We both want to live in the country—real proper country—and although Ellis is very, very fond of his mother he thinks it would be better if we don’t live too near. She can come and stay with us whenever she likes and we can go and see her quite often.”
“Much better,” declared Louise.
“I think so too,” agreed Bel. “It was just that I didn’t want to be selfish.”
“I shall take you to see Fletchers End this afternoon.”
“Fletchers End,” said Bel thoughtfully, savouring the name on her tongue. “There’s something very attractive about the name.”
“Oh I do hope you’ll like it!” exclaimed Louise. “It would be almost too good to be true.”
*
4
It had been decided that Dr. Armstrong was to “speak to Bel” at lunch about the inadvisability of living on Mrs. Brownlee’s doorstep, but this was unnecessary of course. Instead he was urged on by his daughter to talk about Fletchers End. He explained that at one time the house and garden had been well-cared-for (Miss Lestrange kept her property in excellent order), but when she became ill and was unable to see to things herself the place had begun to go downhill. T
he gardener, a man called Fuller, who lived in a tiny cottage in Archerfield village, had been a very good gardener in his day but he was old and had become unfit for heavy work. Even before Miss Lestrange died the place had deteriorated considerably.
“Didn’t she have anyone to live with her?” Louise wanted to know.
Dr. Armstrong shook his head. “It would have been very difficult to live with her. I think most of her family were dead except her sister, Mrs. Harding. She was much younger than Miss Lestrange. She came and stayed at Fletchers End when the old lady had an attack of flu; she was quite different, a nice kind sensible sort of person. She was fond of the old place and spoke to me several times about the way it was being neglected—but of course she could do nothing about it. Then, after Miss Lestrange died, it went from bad to worse. The house stood empty and the garden became a tangle of weeds and over-grown bushes.”
“Poor garden!” said Bel sadly.
“But of course it can be cleared,” said Louise. “It will be rather fun getting it all tidied up and put in order, won’t it, Bel?”
Dr. Armstrong could not help smiling. He knew his daughter and he could see she had made up her mind that Bel and Ellis would come and live at Fletchers End. He hoped they would. It would be delightful for Lou to have her friend so near—and it would be delightful for Bel also. The two were devoted to one another and, being entirely different, they were exceedingly good for one another. Apart from anything else it would be delightful to see the old house put to rights and tenanted by people who would appreciate its charm. It had distressed the good doctor to pass the place when he went his rounds and to see it looking so sad and neglected. He felt slightly guilty about it, to tell the truth. Not that he could have helped it of course—it was not really his fault that the house had been left to a young man who did not care a pin about it—but all the same it made him uncomfortable. So much so that, whenever possible, he went by another road to avoid passing Fletchers End.
“You’re very silent, Daddy!” said Louise suddenly.
“I was just—thinking, and remembering things,” the doctor explained.
Chapter Four
The sun was shining upon Fletchers End when Bel first saw it and the first thing she noticed was the beautiful colour of the roof. Then she saw the windows which, having been washed and polished by Mrs. Warmer, were all glittering in the golden light of the summer afternoon.
“You said it was in terribly bad repair!” exclaimed Bel in surprise.
“It is,” Louise told her. “You’ll see when you go in; but if you could get it cheap you could afford to spend money on it——” She had begun to wrestle with the gate.
Mrs. Warmer had been watching from a window so she came out and opened it for them.
“This is Miss Lamington,” said Louise. “I told you about her didn’t I?”
“Yes, miss,” said Mrs. Warmer.
They all went in together and began to go round the house. Louise was distressed to find that the caretaker had not forgiven her for whatever it was that she had done—or left undone. The woman was quite agreeable, quite polite, but she looked like a woman under a cloud. If Louise had not sat at her kitchen-table and partaken of her hospitality, had not heard her laughing merrily and enjoying a good joke, had not experienced her friendliness, had not been shown her treasure, had not been taken into her confidence as it were, she would have thought it was the woman’s nature to be taciturn. Some people were like that—some people, but fortunately not many.
As a matter of fact Louise was too busy showing Bel the house and trying to make Bel take an interest in it to bother very much about the woman. Unfortunately Bel seemed to be taking very little interest in the house. There was a dazed sort of look about Bel. She gazed about her in a casual manner, asked no questions and scarcely seemed to hear what Louise was saying. With two such silent and disinterested companions it was difficult—even for Louise—to keep the conversation going, so the tour of Fletchers End was accomplished in record time. Fortunately Louise remembered to ask about the septic tank; her father had told her to do so.
“Yes, miss, there’s a skeptic tank at the end of the garden,” said Mrs. Warmer. “Perhaps you would care to see it.”
Louise did not care to see it. What was the use of seeing it when Bel was not interested in the house? Besides even if she saw it she would not be any the wiser; she knew a good deal about houses but nothing whatever about septic tanks.
By this time they were in the kitchen. It had been left to the end. Here, upon the table, was a large bowl of roses at the sight of which Bel seemed to waken from her trance.
“What lovely roses!” said Bel.
“I like roses,” said Mrs. Warmer. “Mr. Fuller brought me those. He grows them in his garden.”
Bel looked at Mrs. Warmer and suddenly became conscious of her as a person. During the tour of the house she had not been real to Bel—she had been the caretaker, that was all—but now quite suddenly she had become a human being who was fond of flowers.
“I love flowers—and roses are best of all,” said Bel. “Mr. Brownlee, my fiancé, is terribly fond of roses. When we come to live here we shall have lots and lots of roses—I mean IF we come to live here, of course.”
“That will be nice,” said Mrs. Warmer faintly. She felt as if a cold hand had gripped her heart.
Bel looked at her and their eyes met. “What will you do if the house is sold?” asked Bel.
“I don’t—know—miss. I’ve been here—such a long time.”
“I suppose——” said Bel doubtfully. “I suppose you wouldn’t want to stay on? I mean if we—if someone bought the house.”
“Stay on, miss?”
“As a sort of—of housekeeper? No, of course you wouldn’t.”
Mrs. Warmer moistened her dry lips and said huskily, “I would—consider it.”
“We should want someone to be here,” explained Bel. “I mean while the alterations were being done—to look after things for us. Some people might be frightened to stay here alone, but you’re used to it, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m used to it. I been here nearly six years.”
“And you don’t mind?”
Mrs. Warmer swallowed a queer lump in her throat which seemed to be interfering with her breathing. “I love it,” she said. “I love Fletchers End—every little bit of it. I love the nice thick walls and the big oak beams and I love the oak floors that takes such a nice polish—and all the funny little cupboards—and the handles on the doors—so, if you wants me to stay on, I’ll—I’ll consider it.”
Bel wondered what she meant. Did she mean she would think it over or did she mean that the offer was accepted? “But of course it all depends upon whether Mr. Brownlee likes it,” said Bel hastily. “You understand that, don’t you?”
“But he will like it,” declared Mrs. Warmer. “You’ll come here I’m sure, and I’ll stay on. I’ll stay while the workmen are here and look after everything and see that they do their jobs, and when it’s all nice and ready I’ll stay and do the cooking and clean the house. It’s a nice house—it really is. It’s a friendly house. I’m sure you’ll like it. I’ve been here nearly six years . . .”
They were now on their way to the gate and Mrs. Warmer was still talking breathlessly, talking about Fletchers End, explaining that the people who lived here long ago used to make arrows, pointing out to the future Mrs. Brownlee that it had once been two houses joined together before it had been made into one, assuring the future Mrs. Brownlee that in all the time she had lived here—nearly six years—never a drop of water had come in through the roof—not like these modern houses, put up all in a minute and so carelessly that the wind blew the tiles off and the rain poured in through the holes.
“There’s a young man in the village that could make us a lovely new gate very reasonable,” declared Mrs. Warmer as she wrestled manfully with the old one.
They said good-bye, scrambled into the car and Louise drove away. She
stopped suddenly when they had turned the corner and switched off the engine.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bel, but Louise was laughing so immoderately that it was some time before she could reply.
“Oh dear!” cried Louise at last. “Oh goodness, it was so funny. Oh dear, I’m quite sore with laughing!”
“What was funny?”
“You were,” gasped Louise. “I thought—you hated the place.”
“You thought I hated the place?”
“Yes, of course. You strolled round with a vacant expression and never looked at anything—and then—quite suddenly—you came to life—and—and not only bought the house—but—but engaged a cook—engaged a cook!” repeated Louise, her voice going up into a little squeak. “Do you realise what you’ve done? You’ve—engaged—a—cook.”
“Louise, I didn’t. I didn’t buy the house——”
“Well, you practically bought it,” said Louise, mopping her streaming eyes. “Obviously you intend Ellis to buy it which comes to the same thing.”
“It doesn’t at all. If Ellis likes it he’ll buy it, but I shan’t try to persuade him.”
“He’ll buy the house if you like it. You did like it, Bel?”
Bel sighed. “I adored the house the moment I saw it; when I walked in at the door I knew it was the house of my dreams. There was no need to look at it properly because I’d seen it before.”
“Seen it before?”
“In dreams,” said Bel vaguely. “I suppose it must have been in dreams that I saw it all before. I felt as if I had lived there—I knew it so well, you see. I even remembered the scent of violets in the drawing-room.”
Louise was not laughing now. “Oh you noticed that?” she said. “I noticed it yesterday but it was even stronger to-day.”
Chapter Five
Bel had seen Fletchers End on a fine sunny afternoon; Ellis saw it for the first time on a wet Saturday morning. Unfortunately Bel was laid up with a cold so she could not go with him, and as Ellis did not want to go alone he took his friend Reggie Stephenson, who was an architect, to have a look at the house. Reggie was a good deal younger than Ellis, small and thin with a high forehead and sandy hair, rather insignificant in appearance, but there was a twinkle in his eye and Ellis liked him. He lived in Beckenham with his parents so the two knew each other pretty well and often played golf together. Ellis did not know much about his capabilities as an architect—probably they would need someone more experienced if they were going to buy the place—but there was no harm in taking Reggie and seeing what he thought of it.
Fletchers End (Bel Lamington Book 2) Page 3