THE ELK
Teresa, Mrs. Thropplestance, was the richest and most intractable oldwoman in the county of Woldshire. In her dealings with the world ingeneral her manner suggested a blend between a Mistress of the Robes anda Master of Foxhounds, with the vocabulary of both. In her domesticcircle she comported herself in the arbitrary style that one attributes,probably without the least justification, to an American political Bossin the bosom of his caucus. The late Theodore Thropplestance had lefther, some thirty-five years ago, in absolute possession of a considerablefortune, a large landed property, and a gallery full of valuablepictures. In those intervening years she had outlived her son andquarrelled with her elder grandson, who had married without her consentor approval. Bertie Thropplestance, her younger grandson, was theheir-designate to her property, and as such he was a centre of interestand concern to some half-hundred ambitious mothers with daughters ofmarriageable age. Bertie was an amiable, easy-going young man, who wasquite ready to marry anyone who was favourably recommended to his notice,but he was not going to waste his time in falling in love with anyone whowould come under his grandmother’s veto. The favourable recommendationwould have to come from Mrs. Thropplestance.
Teresa’s house-parties were always rounded off with a plentifulgarnishing of presentable young women and alert, attendant mothers, butthe old lady was emphatically discouraging whenever any one of her girlguests became at all likely to outbid the others as a possiblegranddaughter-in-law. It was the inheritance of her fortune and estatethat was in question, and she was evidently disposed to exercise andenjoy her powers of selection and rejection to the utmost. Bertie’spreferences did not greatly matter; he was of the sort who can bestolidly happy with any kind of wife; he had cheerfully put up with hisgrandmother all his life, so was not likely to fret and fume overanything that might befall him in the way of a helpmate.
The party that gathered under Teresa’s roof in Christmas week of the yearnineteen-hundred-and-something was of smaller proportions than usual, andMrs. Yonelet, who formed one of the party, was inclined to deduce hopefulaugury from this circumstance. Dora Yonelet and Bertie were so obviouslymade for one another, she confided to the vicar’s wife, and if the oldlady were accustomed to seeing them about a lot together she might adoptthe view that they would make a suitable married couple.
“People soon get used to an idea if it is dangled constantly before theireyes,” said Mrs. Yonelet hopefully, “and the more often Teresa sees thoseyoung people together, happy in each other’s company, the more she willget to take a kindly interest in Dora as a possible and desirable wifefor Bertie.”
“My dear,” said the vicar’s wife resignedly, “my own Sybil was throwntogether with Bertie under the most romantic circumstances—I’ll tell youabout it some day—but it made no impression whatever on Teresa; she puther foot down in the most uncompromising fashion, and Sybil married anIndian civilian.”
“Quite right of her,” said Mrs. Yonelet with vague approval; “it’s whatany girl of spirit would have done. Still, that was a year or two ago, Ibelieve; Bertie is older now, and so is Teresa. Naturally she must beanxious to see him settled.”
The vicar’s wife reflected that Teresa seemed to be the one person whoshowed no immediate anxiety to supply Bertie with a wife, but she keptthe thought to herself.
Mrs. Yonelet was a woman of resourceful energy and generalship; sheinvolved the other members of the house-party, the deadweight, so tospeak, in all manner of exercises and occupations that segregated themfrom Bertie and Dora, who were left to their own devisings—that is tosay, to Dora’s devisings and Bertie’s accommodating acquiescence. Dorahelped in the Christmas decorations of the parish church, and Bertiehelped her to help. Together they fed the swans, till the birds went ona dyspepsia-strike, together they played billiards, together theyphotographed the village almshouses, and, at a respectful distance, thetame elk that browsed in solitary aloofness in the park. It was “tame”in the sense that it had long ago discarded the least vestige of fear ofthe human race; nothing in its record encouraged its human neighbours tofeel a reciprocal confidence.
Whatever sport or exercise or occupation Bertie and Dora indulged intogether was unfailingly chronicled and advertised by Mrs. Yonelet forthe due enlightenment of Bertie’s grandmother.
“Those two inseparables have just come in from a bicycle ride,” she wouldannounce; “quite a picture they make, so fresh and glowing after theirspin.”
“A picture needing words,” would be Teresa’s private comment, and as faras Bertie was concerned she was determined that the words should remainunspoken.
On the afternoon after Christmas Day Mrs. Yonelet dashed into thedrawing-room, where her hostess was sitting amid a circle of guests andteacups and muffin-dishes. Fate had placed what seemed like a trump-cardin the hands of the patiently-manoeuvring mother. With eyes blazing withexcitement and a voice heavily escorted with exclamation marks she made adramatic announcement.
“Bertie has saved Dora from the elk!”
In swift, excited sentences, broken with maternal emotion, she gavesupplementary information as to how the treacherous animal had ambushedDora as she was hunting for a strayed golf ball, and how Bertie haddashed to her rescue with a stable fork and driven the beast off in thenick of time.
“It was touch and go! She threw her niblick at it, but that didn’t stopit. In another moment she would have been crushed beneath its hoofs,”panted Mrs. Yonelet.
“The animal is not safe,” said Teresa, handing her agitated guest a cupof tea. “I forget if you take sugar. I suppose the solitary life itleads has soured its temper. There are muffins in the grate. It’s notmy fault; I’ve tried to get it a mate for ever so long. You don’t knowof anyone with a lady elk for sale or exchange, do you?” she asked thecompany generally.
But Mrs. Yonelet was in no humour to listen to talk of elk marriages.The mating of two human beings was the subject uppermost in her mind, andthe opportunity for advancing her pet project was too valuable to beneglected.
“Teresa,” she exclaimed impressively, “after those two young people havebeen thrown together so dramatically, nothing can be quite the same againbetween them. Bertie has done more than save Dora’s life; he has earnedher affection. One cannot help feeling that Fate has consecrated themfor one another.”
“Exactly what the vicar’s wife said when Bertie saved Sybil from the elka year or two ago,” observed Teresa placidly; “I pointed out to her thathe had rescued Mirabel Hicks from the same predicement a few monthspreviously, and that priority really belonged to the gardener’s boy, whohad been rescued in the January of that year. There is a good deal ofsameness in country life, you know.”
“It seems to be a very dangerous animal,” said one of the guests.
“That’s what the mother of the gardener’s boy said,” remarked Teresa;“she wanted me to have it destroyed, but I pointed out to her that shehad eleven children and I had only one elk. I also gave her a black silkskirt; she said that though there hadn’t been a funeral in her family shefelt as if there had been. Anyhow, we parted friends. I can’t offer youa silk skirt, Emily, but you may have another cup of tea. As I havealready remarked, there are muffins in the grate.”
Teresa closed the discussion, having deftly conveyed the impression thatshe considered the mother of the gardener’s boy had shown a far morereasonable spirit than the parents of other elk-assaulted victims.
“Teresa is devoid of feeling,” said Mrs. Yonelet afterwards to thevicar’s wife; “to sit there, talking of muffins, with an appallingtragedy only narrowly averted—”
“Of course you know whom she really intends Bertie to marry?” asked thevicar’s wife; “I’ve noticed it for some time. The Bickelbys’ Germangoverness.”
“A German governess! What an idea!” gasped Mrs. Yonelet.
“She’s of quite good family, I believe,” said the vicar’s wife, “and notat all the mouse-in-the-back-ground sort of person that gov
ernesses areusually supposed to be. In fact, next to Teresa, she’s about the mostassertive and combative personality in the neighbourhood. She’s pointedout to my husband all sorts of errors in his sermons, and she gave SirLaurence a public lecture on how he ought to handle the hounds. You knowhow sensitive Sir Laurence is about any criticism of his Mastership, andto have a governess laying down the law to him nearly drove him into afit. She’s behaved like that to every one, except, of course, Teresa,and every one has been defensively rude to her in return. The Bickelbysare simply too afraid of her to get rid of her. Now isn’t that exactlythe sort of woman whom Teresa would take a delight in installing as hersuccessor? Imagine the discomfort and awkwardness in the county if wesuddenly found that she was to be the future hostess at the Hall.Teresa’s only regret will be that she won’t be alive to see it.”
“But,” objected Mrs. Yonelet, “surely Bertie hasn’t shown the least signof being attracted in that quarter?”
“Oh, she’s quite nice-looking in a way, and dresses well, and plays agood game of tennis. She often comes across the park with messages fromthe Bickelby mansion, and one of these days Bertie will rescue her fromthe elk, which has become almost a habit with him, and Teresa will saythat Fate has consecrated them to one another. Bertie might not bedisposed to pay much attention to the consecrations of Fate, but he wouldnot dream of opposing his grandmother.”
The vicar’s wife spoke with the quiet authority of one who has intuitiveknowledge, and in her heart of hearts Mrs. Yonelet believed her.
Six months later the elk had to be destroyed. In a fit of exceptionalmoroseness it had killed the Bickelbys’ German governess. It was anirony of its fate that it should achieve popularity in the last momentsof its career; at any rate, it established the record of being the onlyliving thing that had permanently thwarted Teresa Thropplestance’s plans.
Dora Yonelet broke off her engagement with an Indian civilian, andmarried Bertie three months after his grandmother’s death—Teresa did notlong survive the German governess fiasco. At Christmas time every yearyoung Mrs. Thropplestance hangs an extra large festoon of evergreens onthe elk horns that decorate the hall.
“It was a fearsome beast,” she observes to Bertie, “but I always feelthat it was instrumental in bringing us together.”
Which, of course, was true.