“Oh, I’m sorry about that!” exclaimed Dr. Armstrong in consternation. “No wonder Bel is worried. What happened exactly?”
“There was a frightful row,” said Louise. “A horrible man called Wills told her to go away then and there. It was all because he was jealous, you see. He was terribly jealous because Bel took Mr. Copping’s son to the Zoo.”
“Oh Louise! I didn’t say that!” exclaimed Bel.
“I know,” agreed Louise. “You didn’t tell me that, but I’ve been thinking about it and that’s what it was. There’s no other possible explanation. Jealousy is a dreadful thing,” said Louise earnestly. “I was reading an article about it in the papers just the other day and it said that nearly all the wickedness and misery and nastiness in the world is caused by jealousy.”
“Yes,” agreed Dr. Armstrong. “I think that’s true, but I still don’t see——”
“That horrid old Wills is jealous,” Louise explained. “He’s as jealous as anything because Mr. Copping’s father and grandfather were in the firm and his son is going to be in the firm—and horrid old Wills never had a father or a grandfather and he hasn’t got a son. So of course when Miss Goudge told him that Bel had taken the Copping boy to the Zoo he perspired all over with rage and sacked her.”
“Oh Louise, it wasn’t that at all!” cried Bel in dismay.
“I don’t see it,” declared Dr. Armstrong with a puzzled frown. “I suppose the gentleman you refer to as ‘horrid old Wills’ is one of the partners of the firm but I simply can’t understand why he should have minded Bel taking the little Copping boy to the Zoo.”
“He isn’t ‘little’, he’s enormous,” said Louise. “But that isn’t the point. The point is Wills was jealous. That’s clear enough, isn’t it?”
“Not clear to me.”
“Well, never mind,” said Louise. “We don’t need to bother about that. All we need to bother about is to find Bel another job—a much nicer job. I told Bel you would.”
“Yes,” agreed the doctor. “We must see about that. But I think it would be a good plan if you were to allow Bel to tell me exactly what happened. At the moment I’m completely at sea.”
“But I’ve told you, Daddy!” exclaimed Louise in surprise. “I told you about that man being so horrid to poor Bel and telling her to go. Bel was terribly upset about it. Anybody would have been upset.”
“Yes, it must have been very unpleasant,” said the doctor. “I’m sorry about it—very sorry indeed. I must say I should like to hear the whole story, so if Bel would like to tell me——”
“Of course Bel will tell you!”
“Well, give her a chance to tell me,” said Dr. Armstrong smiling at his daughter very kindly.
*
3
By this time they had finished their meal and the table had been cleared. It was peaceful and quiet in the small dining-room so they decided that instead of moving to the lounge, which would be full of fishermen, retailing long stories about their day’s sport, they would stay where they were and continue their conversation in private.
Dr. Armstrong lighted his pipe and prepared himself to listen.
The story took a long time to tell for Bel wanted to explain the whole miserable business from beginning to end. She wanted the doctor’s advice and reassurance and she realised that unless she told him everything it was useless to ask for his help. At first she found it difficult, but Dr. Armstrong was so kind and listened with so much interest and understanding that it all came pouring out . . . all about her talk with Mr. Copping and the rudeness of Miss Goudge and the sudden unexpected appearance of Mr. James; all about the translation of the letters and the bouquet of sweetpeas and the visit to the Zoo; all about the appointment of Mr. Anderson and Mr. Nelson’s telephone message and finally about the frightful interview with Mr. Wills.
“Well, that’s all,” said Bel at last. “I think I’ve told you everything. It’s very good of you to have listened.”
“It’s almost incredible!” exclaimed Dr. Armstrong. “A man in his position to behave like that! To dismiss you at a moment’s notice without any proper explanations! My dear girl, you shouldn’t have taken it lying down!”
“I was frightened,” said Bel in a very small voice. “I know I’m silly—but—but I get frightened rather easily.”
“I’ve a good mind to write to him and——”
“Oh no, you mustn’t!” cried Bel. “It would be no good. Besides, what could you say? It’s terribly complicated. You couldn’t possibly explain.”
“I could explain the reason for your kindness to young Copping.”
“But it wouldn’t be any good,” said Bel desperately. “Mr. Wills doesn’t listen to reason—and anyhow it was all mixed up. He began with complaints about my work; it was only afterwards when he was angry that he got on to the subject of Mr. James.”
“Had he the right to dismiss you?”
“The right?” asked Bel in surprise.
“Yes, you were Brownlee’s secretary, weren’t you? Had Wills any right to dismiss you?”
“I don’t know,” said Bel miserably. “Perhaps he had. He’s in charge while Mr. Brownlee is away. He said that. He said ‘I’m in full charge of the affairs of the firm’. So I suppose it’s true. Anyhow, what could I do? I couldn’t stay when he dismissed me. Could I?”
“Of course you couldn’t,” declared Louise in a comforting tone of voice. “Obviously the man is mad—mad as a hatter. You’re much better out of it. Don’t worry, darling Bel, you’ll get a much nicer job quite easily—and meanwhile we’re going to have a very happy time together. It’s all for the best.”
“But I don’t like it,” said Dr. Armstrong frowning. “I don’t like it at all. The man insulted Bel and sacked her at a moment’s notice without giving her the chance to explain. He oughtn’t to be allowed to get away with that sort of behaviour. How would it do if I were to write to Mr. Copping, himself? He’s the head of the firm and——”
“Oh no! Please! You mustn’t do that! Mr. Copping is ill—it would never do to worry him—besides, he might think . . .”
“What would he think?”
“I don’t know,” said Bel blushing. “He might think there was some truth . . . I mean he might be angry with Mr. James.”
“Is there nobody in the firm with any sense at all?” asked Dr. Armstrong with pardonable irritation.
Bel did not answer that. It was difficult to answer. Instead she said incoherently, “Oh goodness! When I think of all the talk! When I think of all the muddle! If only I knew what was happening!”
“Don’t think about it,” said Louise. “It’s no good worrying. Just forget about it and enjoy your holiday. When Mr. Brownlee comes back he’s sure to write to you, isn’t he?”
Bel was silent. She didn’t know whether Mr. Brownlee would write or not. He had not written to her all the time he had been away, in spite of his promise to let her know how things were going, so why should he write when he got back? They would talk about her to him . . . they would tell him . . . he would think . . . perhaps he would be angry!
It was only afterwards that Bel realised that Mr. Brownlee could not write to her when he got back—even if he wanted to—for the simple reason that she had not left her address. She had been so stunned, and so hurried in her preparations for departure, that she had never thought of leaving her address. She had not even filled up a form at the Post-Office for her letters to be forwarded. Of course she could do that now. There was nothing to prevent her from getting a form here, at Drumburly, and sending it to London. But what was the use? thought Bel. There would be no letters—or at least none that she wanted to receive. She didn’t want to hear from anyone, not even from Mr. Brownlee. She just wanted to be away from it all and to forget about what had happened. All the talk and suspicions and nastiness had made her—had made her feel—dirty. Yes, dirty, thought Bel. Here it was clean—beautifully clean and fresh—so perhaps when she had been here for a bit she would
not feel dirty any more.
Louise had said, “Just forget about it and enjoy your holiday”. Louise was right. That was the thing to do.
Chapter Seventeen
The following morning was Tuesday. Louise had made an arrangement to go to Mureth House to a coffee-party at eleven o’clock. She had intended to take Bel and introduce her to the Johnstones, but Bel, having had her breakfast in bed, was feeling somewhat lazy. She was never at her best with strangers and the idea of getting up and going out to a party did not appeal to her at all. She explained that she was looking forward to meeting Louise’s relations—but not now.
“Not now?” asked Louise in surprise.
“Some other day,” said Bel vaguely. “You see I’ve just arrived. I haven’t got properly settled yet. I’ll just have an easy morning and get up later and go for a little walk and look about. You must go to Mureth House, of course. I shall be perfectly happy by myself.”
“Well, if you’re sure——” said Louise doubtfully. “They’ll be very disappointed because I told them I would bring you . . . but you’re tired after the journey.”
“Yes, I am rather tired,” agreed Bel.
The fatigue from which she was suffering was not really physical. She was spiritually exhausted by all she had been through. She felt dazed; it had all happened so suddenly. This day last week she had been doing her work at the office with absolutely no idea that anything would ever change her usual routine—and now here she was at Drumburly! No wonder she felt dazed.
“All right—if you’re sure,” said Louise. “I’ll be back to lunch.”
Bel stayed in bed for a bit, reading the papers, and then got up and went out. It was delightful to be able to take her time and to do exactly what she wanted: no rushing off madly to the office; no bus to catch; no hurry at all. She wandered slowly down the steps of the hotel and into the street, enjoying every moment.
There was only one street in Drumburly; it sloped gently up from the bridge and on either side there were shops. They were quite good shops. The butcher’s was hung with carcases of beef and mutton and venison; the marble slab in the window of the fishmonger displayed piles of appetising fish. There were several grocers’ shops—all well-stocked—and quite a number of bakers! Bel saw a sweet shop which advertised Drumburly Rock and decided to buy a box of it as a small present for Louise. She had just completed her purchase and was waiting for her change when she heard her name.
“Miss Lamington?”
She turned quickly and found herself face to face with one of the most beautiful young women she had ever seen. The ravishing creature was a good deal taller than herself, with bright blue eyes and a cream and rose complexion and gorgeous golden hair.
“I’m sure you’re Miss Lamington,” declared the young woman with a friendly smile. “There’s nothing very mysterious about it. You see I’ve lived here for years and years and I know everybody, so when I saw somebody I didn’t know I knew it must be you. Louise told us all about you and that helped. Of course you don’t know me from Adam.”
“You’re Mrs. Dering Johnstone!”
“Goodness! How did you guess?”
Bel had not guessed. She had known quite definitely the moment she saw Mrs. Dering Johnstone that this was Louise’s cousin’s wife, for Louise had said that James’s wife, Rhoda, was perfectly beautiful—just like an angel—with wonderful golden hair. There could not be two people in Drumburly to fit this description, so obviously this was she.
Of course Bel was much too shy to explain, so she blushed and said, “Oh well, I just thought——”
“But why aren’t you at Mamie’s party?” asked Mrs. Dering Johnstone. “I ought to be there myself but Flockie isn’t well. Miss Flockhart is our cook, she’s been with us for years and years—ever since we were married—she looks after us and does everything, she’s quite marvellous, so when Flockie isn’t well I’m lost. Of course the poor darling wanted to get up and carry on as usual—I almost had to tie her down to her bed with ropes!”
“How awful for you!” said Bel a little breathlessly. As a matter of fact Rhoda Dering Johnstone quite often had this effect upon people—the effect of taking their breath away. It was not only her beauty, it was her personality. She was full of vitality; she radiated friendliness.
“So I’m doing the shopping you see,” added Mrs. Dering Johnstone.
“Yes, I see,” said Bel.
“I tell you what,” said Mrs. Dering Johnstone. “You and Louise must come to tea at Tassieknowe, but we’ll wait till Flockie’s better because she makes the most delicious scones. They melt in your mouth. I don’t know how she does it. As a matter of fact I’ve watched her dozens of times and I’ve tried to make them myself. I’ve made them exactly the same—most carefully—but they turn out completely different. Flockie’s scones are as light as feathers and mine are as tough and leathery as old boots. Can you explain it?”
“No,” said Bel laughing.
“Neither can I,” declared Mrs. Dering Johnstone.
They came out into the street together. The sun shone down upon Mrs. Dering Johnstone’s hair; the gold of it was almost blinding.
“What do you think of Drumburly?” asked Mrs. Dering Johnstone. “I remember the first time I saw it I thought it looked foreign, and I thought the people were talking to each other in a foreign language, but now I’m quite used to it of course. Have you been down to the bridge? It’s beautiful. You really ought to see it—and go to the middle of the bridge and lean over and watch the river swirling through the arches. There’s something fascinating about watching a river. Some people do it all day long.”
“All day long?” repeated Bel in surprise.
“Mostly old men who haven’t got anything else to do,” Mrs. Dering Johnstone explained. “They’re a sort of decoration to the bridge—if you know what I mean.”
Bel was not at all sure what she meant so she smiled and said nothing. As a matter of fact she was aware that her contribution to the conversation had been meagre in the extreme but fortunately Mrs. Dering Johnstone did not seem to mind.
“I must fly,” declared Mrs. Dering Johnstone. “I’ve got two boys at home and they’re probably doing something frightfully naughty. Flockie is the only person who can manage them and she’s in bed. I’m awfully glad we’ve met,” she added with a warm friendly smile.
“So am I,” said Bel with enthusiasm.
“Goodbye. I’ll ring up about tea when Flockie’s better. Anyhow I’m sure to see you again soon,” said Mrs. Dering Johnstone. She sprang into her car, waved from the window and was off like a flash of lightning.
Of course Bel did exactly as she had been told. She walked down to the bridge and admired the graceful spans, and she went to the middle of the bridge and leaned over the parapet and watched the river swirling beneath her. There certainly was something very fascinating about the way the water plunged between the arches of the bridge; Mrs. Dering Johnstone had been perfectly right. She had been right about the old men as well, for there were several old men upon the bridge, leaning over the parapet and watching the river. They were in a mesmerised condition. They were there when Bel arrived and they were still there when she left, so it was easy to believe that they remained there, watching the river, all day long.
*
2
Dr. Armstrong returned to The Shaw Arms for lunch. This was contrary to his usual practice but Bel gathered that the day was too fine and sunny. Louise also returned. She had enjoyed the coffee-party and had met several old friends.
“But you didn’t meet Mrs. Dering Johnstone,” said Bel.
“How do you know?” enquired Louise in surprise.
“Because I met her,” replied Bel laughing. “I met her in the sweet shop and I knew her at once from your description—beautiful as an angel.” She proceeded to give an account of the meeting and to ask questions about her new acquaintance.
“Oh yes, she has two boys, Harry and Nicky,” said Louise. “Rhoda s
ays they’re terribly naughty but I think they’re rather amusing. They run about the farm and learn some very queer language but they can speak quite nicely when they like. I told you they live at Tassieknowe, didn’t I? It’s farther up the river from Mureth—frightfully isolated. Sometimes in the winter they’re snowed up for days on end.”
“Tassieknowe is an interesting place,” said Dr. Armstrong. “It stands on the site of an old Roman Fort. The name originates from the Roman General Tacitus—or so it is said.” He added “I wonder if Bel would like to try a cast or two this afternoon.”
“You mean fishing?” asked Bel. “Oh yes, I should love to – if it isn’t a bother.”
“You won’t catch anything, except yourself,” declared Louise.
The warning was unregarded and presently all three of them went down to a large pool below the bridge which Dr. Armstrong had chosen as a suitable spot for Bel’s lesson. Louise had brought a book and settled herself comfortably with her back against a rock; she had watched fishing so often that she was bored with the whole affair. Bel, on the other hand, was intensely interested in the elaborate preparations. She watched while her instructor fitted the sections of the rod together, fixed on the reel and threaded the line through the loops. She watched the cast being knotted to the line and suitable flies chosen. The fly-book was fascinating—each fly so small, so beautifully made, so colourful. It seemed very strange to Bel that fish should be deceived into thinking that these were ordinary flies; even more strange that fish should like to eat them.
When all was ready Dr. Armstrong showed Bel how to cast the line across the pool. The line flew out and the cast fell gently upon the water. It looked easy but it was not as easy as it looked. When Bel took the rod it felt heavy and cumbersome, the line tangled, the cast splashed in the water like a bomb.
“Try again,” said Dr. Armstrong encouragingly.
This time the line twirled round her and one of the hooks caught in the back of her jumper.
“I said you would catch yourself,” remarked Louise.
Bel Lamington Page 14