A Search For A Secret: A Novel. Vol. 1

  CHAPTER V.

  TESTAMENTARY INTENTIONS.

  All this history of the Harmers I have told nearly as I heard it,passing briefly over such parts as were not essential to theunderstanding of the story, and retaining all that was necessary to betold in order that the relative position of the various inmates ofHarmer Place may be quite understood by any one who may hereafter readthis story of mine. And having done so, I can now proceed with theregular course of my journal.

  That visit of ours to Harmer Place was a very memorable one, andexercised not a little influence upon my fortunes, although certainly Ilittle dreamt at the time of our return that evening, that it had doneso. To Polly and I it had been simply an extremely pleasant day. We hadrambled about the garden with Sophy Needham, and had taken tea in thesummer-house, while papa and Mr. Harmer were at dinner. We had then goneinto desert, and, that over, had again rambled out, leaving thegentlemen over their wine. It was while thus engaged, that aconversation took place, which I did not hear of for more than a yearafterwards, but which entirely altered my worldly prospects. It wasbegan by Mr. Harmer, who had been for some time sitting rather silentand abstracted.

  "I think it is high time, my dear doctor, for me to speak to you franklyand openly, of what my intentions are in reference to the disposal of myproperty. I mentioned somewhat of this to you four or five years since,but I should like now to speak explicitly. I am aware that such mattersare not usually gone into; but I think in many cases, of which this isone, it is right and better that it should be so. I have no relationswhatever in the world, with the exception of my sisters, who have anample life provision, and Sophy Needham, my son's child. My property isvery large; I have the Harmer estates, my own savings in India, and theaccumulation of my brothers, who never lived up to their income for verymany years. In all about seven thousand a year. As I have said, SophyNeedham is my only connection in the world--you my only friend. To SophyI have left half my fortune, the other half I have bequeathed to yourchildren. Do not start, my dear Ashleigh, or offer any fruitlessobjection, my decision is fixed and immovable. For the last thirteenyears my existence has been brightened by your friendly intercourse, inyou I have found a scientific guide and friend; indeed, I may say thatmy life as far as this world is concerned, has been entirely made whatit is, tranquil, contented, and happy by your friendship. Ten years agoyou will remember I begged you to retire from practice, and to take upyour abode here with your family, upon any terms you might name, but infact as my adopted family. This offer you, from motives I could not butrespect, declined. You loved your profession, and considered itincompatible with your duty to leave a career of active usefulness.Things, therefore, went on as before. Towards Sophy my intentions werenot fixed, but she has turned out a very good girl, and I shalltherefore leave her half my fortune, about seventy-five thousand pounds.Had I any other relation, or any person who could have the smallestclaim upon me, you might hesitate; as it is, not even the most morbidfeeling of delicacy can tell you that you are depriving others of theirexpectations. Being so, let the matter be tacitly understood, and saynothing whatever about it; you ought not to have known of it till mydeath, just suppose that you do not know of it now. You will ask me whyhave I then told you. For this reason. I wish to benefit your children.My life is uncertain; but I may live for many years yet, and my moneymight come too late to do good. Your son may have spent the best yearsof his life struggling in some profession which he does not like; yourdaughters may have suffered too. I therefore wish at once to place Harrywith the best man in the profession he wishes to enter, which I haveheard him say is that of a civil engineer, and I shall allow him ahundred and fifty pounds a year for the present. Your daughters I shouldwish sent to some good school in London to finish their education; andwhen the time shall come, when such an event may be considered probable,I should wish it to be publicly known that they will each have upontheir wedding day ten thousand pounds. Your son shall have a like sumwhen the time comes for him to enter into a partnership, or start inbusiness for himself. These sums to be deducted from their moiety of myfortune at my death. And now, doctor, let us shake hands and not mentionthe matter again, and as you do not seem to be drinking your wine, letus go out and join the young ladies in the garden."

  It was not until after several further discussions upon the subject ofMr. Harmer's kind intentions towards us that papa agreed to accept hisoffer. When he at last consented to do so, no time was lost in carryingout the plans, and in a month or two Harry went up to London to bearticled to a well-known engineer. As for us, it was settled that MissHarrison should remain with us until Christmas, and that after theholidays we should go up to a school near London. How delighted we wereat the prospect, and how very slowly that autumn seemed to pass;however, at last the time came, and we started under papa's charge forLondon. When we were once there, and were fairly in a cab on our way toschool, we felt a little nervous and frightened. However, there was agreat comfort in the thought that there would, at any rate, be one facewe knew, that of Clara Fairthorne, who came from our part of the countrywe had met her at some of our Christmas parties, and it was by herparents the school had been recommended to papa. But although we feltrather nervous, it was not until we were in sight of the school that ourspirits really fell; and even at the lapse of all these years, I dothink that its aspect was enough to make any girl's heart sink, who wasgoing to school for the first time.

  Any one who has passed along the road from Hyde Park Corner to PutneyBridge may have noticed Grendon House, and any one who has done so, musthave exclaimed to himself "a girls' school." Palpably a girls' school,it could be nothing else. With the high wall surrounding it, to keep allpassers-by from even imagining what was going on within, with the treeswhich grew inside it, and almost hid the house from view, with itssquare stiff aspect when one did get a glimpse of it, and with its smallwindows, each furnished with muslin curtains of an extreme whiteness andprimness of arrangement, and through which no face was ever seen toglance out,--certainly it could be nothing but a girls' school.

  On the door in the wall were two brass plates, the one inscribed instiff Roman characters "Grendon House;" the other "The Misses Pilgrim,"in a running flourishing handwriting. I remember after we had driven upto the door, and were waiting for the bell to be answered, wonderingwhether the Misses Pilgrim wrote at all like that, and if so, what theircharacter would be likely to be. In the door, by the side of the plate,was a small grating, or grille, through which a cautious survey could bemade of any applicant for admission within those sacred precincts.

  On passing through the door, and entering the inclosure, one foundoneself in a small, irregular piece of ground, dignified by the name ofthe garden, although, from its appearance, it would be supposed thatthis was a mere pleasantry; but it was not so. Indeed, no such thing asa pleasantry ever was or could be attempted about anything connectedwith "Grendon House." Certain it is that nothing in the way of a flowerwas ever acclimatized there. The gloom and frigidity of the place wouldhave been far too much for any flower known in temperate climates tohave supported.

  I remember, indeed, Constance Biglow, who had a brother who had juststarted on an Arctic expedition, lamented that she had forgotten to askhim to bring home some of the plants from those regions, as anappropriate present for the Misses Pilgrim, for their garden. I know atthe time we considered it to be a very good, although a dreadfullydisrespectful, joke towards those ladies.

  In spring, indeed, a few crocuses (Miss Pilgrim spoke of them as croci)ventured to come up and show their heads, but they soon faded away againin such an uncongenial atmosphere. The only thing which reallyflourished there was the box edging to the borders, which grewluxuriantly, and added somehow to the funereal aspect of the place. Itwas no wonder nothing grew there, for the house, and the high walls, andthe trees within them, completely shaded it, and cut it off from alllight and air. Round the so-called flower-beds the gravel path waswider, and was dignified by the name of the carriage drive, though howany c
oachman was to have turned a carriage in that little confinedspace, even had he got through the impassable gate, was, and probablyever will remain, a mystery.

  Behind the house was the playground, a good-sized triangular-shapedgravelled yard, for Grendon House was situated at the junction of tworoads, and the house itself stood across the base of the triangle theyformed. This playground was several times larger than the garden, andwas indeed quite extensive enough for such games as we indulged in. Itwas, of course, surrounded by the high wall, with its belt of trees,underneath which was a narrow strip of border, divided into regularportions; and here the girls were permitted to prove the correctness ofthe axiom, that plants will not live without light or air.

  So much for the exterior; inside, if the sensation of gloom andpropriety which pervaded the very atmosphere could have been got rid of,it would have been really a fine house.

  The hall, which was very large, extended up to the top of the house;from it, on the ground floor, led off the dining and schoolrooms, large,well-proportioned rooms, but very cold and bare-looking, especially theformer; for the schoolroom walls were nearly covered with maps ofdifferent countries, some rolled up and out of use, others hanging downopen; beside them hung genealogized trees of the various monarchies ofEurope; while in the corner was a large stand with a black board fordrawing diagrams in chalk. Nothing else in either of them but barewalls, and equally bare forms and tables.

  There was another little room opening from the great hall: this was thecloak-room, where the girls put on their bonnets and shawls before goingout for their walks. It was here that, when they were able to slip outfrom the schoolroom, they would meet to talk in English for a change,and interchange those little confidences about nothing in whichschool-girls delight. This room looked into the garden; and to preventthe possibility of any one who might be--which nobody everwas--wandering there, looking in at the window, white silver paper, withcoloured flowers under it, was stuck on to the glass, something in themanner of decalcomanie, only that extraordinary and difficult name wasnot at that time invented.

  Upstairs was the drawing-room. It was here that the Misses Pilgrimreceived visitors to the girls, and here that the lady professors, whocame twice a week to teach music, imparted lessons in singing and on thepianoforte to the pupils.

  This room was a model of propriety and frigidity--if there be such aword, for no other will describe the effect produced. The curtains wereof white muslin, so stiff and carefully arranged that they might havebeen cut out of marble. The chairs were of some light wood, with gildingon them, and so extremely fragile, that it was only with the greatestcaution and care that any one could venture to sit down upon them; therewere couches too, here and there, but these as seats were altogether outof the question, being so covered with Berlin work of every kind, andantimacassars of such stiffness and intricacy of pattern, that no onewould ever have thought of assuming a sitting position even upon theextreme edge of them.

  The room was literally crowded with tables of every imaginable shape andform, generally on twisted legs, and looking as if a breath would upsetthem. On these tables were placed works of art and industry of everydescription. Vases of wax flowers and fruit, Berlin wool mats of everycolour and pattern, inkstands of various shapes and sizes, books ofengravings, stuffed birds under glass shades; in short, knicknacks ofevery sort and kind, and on a great majority of them were inscribed,"Presented to Miss Pilgrim, or Miss Isabella Pilgrim, by her attachedpupils on her birth-day;" or, "Presented to the Misses Pilgrim by theirattached pupil so-and-so on the occasion of her leaving school."

  Through all this it was next to impossible to move without the greatestrisk of bringing some of the little fragile tables down with a crash,and visitors would generally, after a vague glance of perplexity round,drop, or rather lower themselves carefully, into one of the littleminikin chairs, as near as possible to the door.

  So chilling was the effect of this room, so overwhelming its atmosphereof propriety, that many fathers and brothers who have come up from thecountry to see their daughters or sisters after a long absence, men withbig voices and hearty manner, have felt so constrained and overpoweredby it, that in place of taking them into their arms with a loud-soundingkiss, they have been known to hold out their hand in a most formalmanner and to inquire almost in a whisper as to their state of health.In this drawing-room the elder girls used to practise, and if anyvisitor was shown up there the proper form to be observed was to risefrom the music-stool, walk to the door, and then, making a deep curtsey,to leave the room--a performance not unfrequently completely astoundingany one strange to the ceremonies inculcated at young ladies' schools asbeing suitable to occasions like this.

  It will be judged from all this that "Grendon House" was a modelacademy, and indeed it was. The only wonder is that it did not turn usall into the stiffest pieces of prim propriety possible; but somehow itdid not; for I think, on looking back, that a merrier and more livelyset of girls it would be difficult to have found, and yet we mostcertainly had not much to be merry about. "All work and no play makesJack a dull boy." It may be so, but it decidedly did not have thateffect upon Jack's sisters. We certainly did work very hard. I supposeit was necessary in order to cram all the accomplishments girls areexpected to know into our heads; but however it was, I am quite surethat in those two years I was at school, I worked more hours andsteadier at them, than Harry ever did in four; he allows it himself, andI am sure it is generally the case, that girls work infinitely harderthan their brothers, and certainly have no amusement or recreation atall in proportion. I suppose it is all right, but yet I do think that ifwe worked a good deal less, and played a great deal more, we should knowquite as much, and be far more healthy and natural than we are.

  However, I am not writing an essay, or I should have a great deal moreto say on this point; as it is I must leave it for abler hands, and goback to my story.

  When we first caught sight of Grendon House our spirits fell manydegrees, and when we entered its solemn portals we felt terribly awedand uncomfortable. We were, of course, shown up into that dreadfuldrawing-room, and I think papa was as much affected by it as we were; hecertainly was not a bit like himself, and he stayed a very short timetalking to Miss Pilgrim, who came up in great state, and in a very stiffsilk dress, which rustled alarmingly as she walked, to receive us. MissPilgrim was small but stately, almost overpoweringly so. Her hair wasarranged in little stiff ringlets on each temple; her nose was veryprominent; her lips thin and rather pinched; her eyes bright andsearching; she was, on the whole, in good keeping with the room, and yetI thought that, although she looked so sharp, and spoke so shortly anddecidedly, that she was kind at heart, and that I should like her. And Imay say I did; she was, although strict and sharp with us girls--asindeed she had need to be--kind-hearted and thoughtful, and I partedwith her when I left school with regret. Her sister Isabella was soexactly the counterpart of herself that one description will do for thetwo; and, except that she wore her hair in flat braids instead of inringlets, and that she was not quite so sharp and decided, althoughequally kind, she might have been easily mistaken for her elder sister.

  When papa got up to go away, I could not help crying a little; for,though I was fifteen, I had never been away from home before. However, Isoon came round after he was once fairly gone. Polly was longerrecovering herself; but she, too, soon got over it, when I told her thatif we cried the girls would be sure to call us cry-babies.

  Presently Miss Pilgrim, who had considerately left us for a few minutesto let us have our cry out, came back again, and took us up to show usour room, where we could take off our things. She also kindly sent forClara Fairthorne, so that we might go down into the schoolroom with someone we knew. It was rather an ordeal going in there, and seeing all thefaces lifted up from their work to look at the new comers. However, itwas not so bad as we had expected; they did not stare at usdisagreeably, nor did they, when we went out into the playgroundafterwards, ask us so many questions as papa had warned us
they would.Indeed, there was no occasion for their doing so, as they had heard allabout us from Clara. One or two of them took us under their specialprotection, as it were, for the first few days, and we felt at home verymuch sooner than I had expected that we should do. We were about twentyin all, from Annie Morgan and Selma Colman, the two parlour boarders,down to Julia Jackson, a West-Indian child of eleven years old, thedarling and pet of the whole school.

  I am not going to write a long account of my schooldays. The dailyroutine of one girl's school is so much like that of another, that thereis nothing new to be told of it; the little disputes, the rivalries, thefriendships sworn to last for life, but which seldom survive a year ortwo of occasional correspondence,--all these things have been sofrequently told, that I shall not repeat them, but shall only mentionbriefly such incidents as had an effect upon my after life.

  The account of one day's work is a description of all. Breakfast ateight; school from half-past eight until twelve; then a walk forthree-quarters of an hour. Dinner at one; play for half an hour; schoolfrom two till half-past five; another half-hour's play; tea at six;school till eight; then to bed.

  Looking back upon it now, I wonder how I, and all the countless girlswho go through such slavery as this, keep their health and spirits. Ourwalk was no recreation to us; we went, two and two, through the streets,or into Kensington Gardens--the same walks week after week--till we knewevery stone on the pavement we walked on. It was a dreadfully formalaffair, and I think I would rather have been in school. The only play wereally had was the half-hour after dinner and the half-hour after tea,and also on Saturday afternoons. Then, indeed, we made up for all theday's repression,--running, jumping, skipping, laughing, and shoutinglike mad girls, till I am sure sometimes we scandalized the wholeneighbourhood, and that passers by on the other side of the high wallpaused in astonishment at such an outburst of joyous cries and laughter.Even at this time, as at all others during the day, we had to speakFrench, not a word of English being allowed to be spoken in "GrendonHouse;" and I remember congratulating myself that French girls laughedthe same way as we did, for we should certainly have been obliged tolaugh in French, had such a thing been possible. I was very good friendswith all my schoolfellows, and, indeed, there was very littlequarrelling among us,--just a sharp word or two, and a little extrastateliness and ceremony for a day or so; but even this was uncommon,for we had neither time nor opportunity to quarrel. My greatestfavourite was Ada Desborough, who was a month or two younger thanmyself. Ada was tall, slight, with a very pretty figure, and aparticularly easy, graceful carriage. She was lively, talkative, full offun,--indeed inclined, to be almost too noisy, and it was easy to seeshe would turn out a perfect flirt.

  Ada and I would sometimes quarrel, and she would take up with some oneelse for three weeks or a month, and then come back to me all of asudden, and be as affectionate as ever. She was such a warm-hearted girlit was impossible to be angry with her; and, on the whole, she was byfar my greatest friend all the time I was at Grendon House. It wasthrough Ada that the only break which ever occurred in the monotony ofour life at Grendon House took place. Ada's mother, Lady EvelineDesborough, lived in Eaton Square, and Ada generally went home fromSaturday afternoon till Sunday evening. Sometimes, perhaps twice in ahalf-year, she would bring an invitation from her mamma for three orfour of us to go there to spend the next Saturday afternoon with her. Iwas always of the number, as being Ada's particular friend. We lookedforward to these little parties as a change; but there was not any greatamusement in them.

  Lady Desborough was the widow of General Sir William Desborough, andmoved in quite the extreme fashionable world. She was a tall, elegantwoman, with a haughty, aristocratic face. She used, I really think, totry and unbend to us girls; but her success was not great: she was sotall and haughty-looking, so splendidly dressed, and her attempt atcordiality was so very distant that we were all quite awed by it.

  The programme of the afternoon's amusement was generally as follows. Wewould go first either to the Polytechnic or the Zoological Gardens, or,in fact, wherever we chose, under the escort of Lady Desborough'shousekeeper, a respectable middle-aged woman, who used to let us wanderabout and do just as we liked. This part of the day was reallyenjoyable; when we got back to Eaton Square, we had our tea together inthe small room behind the dining-room, where Lady Desborough dined insolitary state. This was great fun. Ada made tea with a vast affectationof ceremony, and the laughing and noise we made were prodigious, andwould have scandalized Miss Pilgrim, could she have heard us; and weshould not have ventured to indulge in it, had not Ada assured us thatthe partition was so thick that it was quite impossible for our voicesto penetrate to the next room. When tea was over, we quieted downgradually at the thought of what was in store for us, for when LadyDesborough had finished her dinner, and gone up into the drawing-room,we were sent for, and went up-stairs, putting on our best companymanners, as inculcated at "Grendon House," and seated ourselves on theedges of the chairs, in the primest of attitudes, with our feetperfectly straight, and our hands folded before us. We would first havea little frigid conversation, and Lady Desborough would then ask us tooblige her by playing on the piano, and as we always, by Miss Pilgrim'sorder, brought a piece of music each with us, there was no possibilityof evading the infliction, but each had in turn to perform her piece;and then we sat stiff and uncomfortable, till the welcome intelligencecame that Miss Pilgrim's servant was at the door with a cab.

  After the first year I was at school had passed, and when we were aboutsixteen, the stiffness of these visits wore away, but we never werequite comfortable with Lady Desborough; and, indeed, did not enjoy ourvisit as much even as we had done the year before, for we were too oldto go now sightseeing under the housekeeper's care, and our merry teaswere exchanged for stiff dinners with Lady Desborough.

  Ada had one brother, whom I have not yet spoken of. He was five yearsolder than she was, and she always spoke of him in enthusiastic terms;but I never saw him except the twice I went to Eaton Square, in my firsthalf-year. He was then rather more than twenty, and seemed a quiet youngman, and I thought a little shy, and out of his element with us fivegirls. He was tall, and dark like his sister, but with a thoughtful,studious face, very unlike hers. Ada said that at ordinary times he wasfull of fun. All I can say is at these two visits I saw nothing of it.He had, I believe, entered the Guards, but after a short time determinedto see some active service, and accordingly exchanged into the Lancers,I understood from Ada, very much to his mother's dissatisfaction.

  I have now briefly told all the events which occurred in my two years atschool, which had in any way a bearing upon my after-life. I have toldthem all at once, in order that I may not have to go back to myschooldays again, which, indeed, were monotonous enough. I have read andheard that in some schools the girls engage in all sorts of fun andflirtation and adventures. It may be so; I do not know. I can only saywe had no such goings on at "Grendon House," but, although naturallylively and full of fun enough, were certainly a quiet, well-conducted,ladylike set of girls, and no such nonsense, as far as I ever heard,entered into any one of our heads.