37. KNOLLSEA--AN ORNAMENTAL VILLA
Her energies collected and fermented anew by the results of the vigil,Ethelberta left town for Knollsea, where she joined Picotee the sameevening. Picotee produced a letter, which had been addressed to hersister at their London residence, but was not received by her there, Mrs.Chickerel having forwarded it to Knollsea the day before Ethelbertaarrived in town.
The crinkled writing, in character like the coast-line of Tierra delFuego, was becoming familiar by this time. While reading the note sheinformed Picotee, between a quick breath and a rustle of frills, that itwas from Lord Mountclere, who wrote on the subject of calling to see her,suggesting a day in the following week. 'Now, Picotee,' she continued,'we shall have to receive him, and make the most of him, for I havealtered my plans since I was last in Knollsea.'
'Altered them again? What are you going to be now--not a poor personafter all?'
'Indeed not. And so I turn and turn. Can you imagine what LordMountclere is coming for? But don't say what you think. Before I replyto this letter we must go into new lodgings, to give them as our address.The first business to-morrow morning will be to look for the gayest housewe can find; and Captain Flower and this little cabin of his must bethings we have never known.'
The next day after breakfast they accordingly sallied forth.
Knollsea had recently begun to attract notice in the world. It had thisyear undergone visitation from a score of professional gentlemen andtheir wives, a minor canon, three marine painters, seven young ladieswith books in their hands, and nine-and-thirty babies. Hence a fewlodging-houses, of a dash and pretentiousness far beyond the mark of theold cottages which formed the original substance of the village, had beenerected to meet the wants of such as these. To a building of this classEthelberta now bent her steps, and the crush of the season havingdeparted in the persons of three-quarters of the above-named visitors,who went away by a coach, a van, and a couple of wagonettes one morning,she found no difficulty in arranging for a red and yellow streaked villa,which was so bright and glowing that the sun seemed to be shining upon iteven on a cloudy day, and the ruddiest native looked pale when standingby its walls. It was not without regret that she renounced the sailor'spretty cottage for this porticoed and balconied dwelling; but her lineswere laid down clearly at last, and thither she removed forthwith.
From this brand-new house did Ethelberta pen the letter fixing the timeat which she would be pleased to see Lord Mountclere.
When the hour drew nigh enormous force of will was required to keep herperturbation down. She had not distinctly told Picotee of the object ofthe viscount's visit, but Picotee guessed nearly enough. Ethelberta wasupon the whole better pleased that the initiative had again come from himthan if the first step in the new campaign had been her sending theexplanatory letter, as intended and promised. She had thought almostdirectly after the interview at Rouen that to enlighten him by writing aconfession in cold blood, according to her first intention, would belittle less awkward for her in the method of telling than in the facts tobe told.
So the last hair was arranged and the last fold adjusted, and she satdown to await a new page of her history. Picotee sat with her, underorders to go into the next room when Lord Mountclere should call; andEthelberta determined to waste no time, directly he began to makeadvances, in clearing up the phenomena of her existence to him; to theend that no fact which, in the event of his taking her to wife, could beused against her as an example of concealment, might remain unrelated.The collapse of his attachment under the test might, however, form thegrand climax of such a play as this.
The day was rather cold for the season, and Ethelberta sat by a fire; butthe windows were open, and Picotee was amusing herself on the balconyoutside. The hour struck: Ethelberta fancied she could hear the wheelsof a carriage creeping up the steep ascent which led to the drive beforethe door.
'Is it he?' she said quickly.
'No,' said Picotee, whose indifference contrasted strangely with therestlessness of her who was usually the coolest. 'It is a man shakingdown apples in the garden over the wall.'
They lingered on till some three or four minutes had gone by. 'Surelythat's a carriage?' said Ethelberta, then.
'I think it is,' said Picotee outside, stretching her neck forward as faras she could. 'No, it is the men on the beach dragging up their boats;they expect wind to-night.'
'How wearisome! Picotee, you may as well come inside; if he means tocall he will; but he ought to be here by this time.'
It was only once more, and that some time later that she again said'Listen!'
'That's not the noise of a carriage; it is the fizz of a rocket. Thecoastguardsmen are practising the life-apparatus to-day, to be ready forthe autumn wrecks.'
'Ah!' said Ethelberta, her face clearing up. Hers had not been asweetheart's impatience, but her mood had intensified during theseminutes of suspense to a harassing mistrust of her man-compelling power,which was, if that were possible, more gloomy than disappointed love. 'Iknow now where he is. That operation with the cradle-apparatus is veryinteresting, and he is stopping to see it. . . . But I shall not waitindoors much longer, whatever he may be stopping to see. It is veryunaccountable, and vexing, after moving into this new house too. We weremuch more comfortable in the old one. In keeping any previousappointment in which I have been concerned he has been ridiculouslyearly.'
'Shall I run round?' said Picotee, 'and if he is not watching them wewill go out.'
'Very well,' said her sister.
The time of Picotee's absence seemed an age. Ethelberta heard the roarof another rocket, and still Picotee did not return. 'What can the girlbe thinking of?' she mused. . . . 'What a half-and-half policy mine hasbeen! Thinking of marrying for position, and yet not making it my rigidplan to secure the man the first moment that he made his offer. So Ilose the comfort of having a soul above worldliness, and my compensationfor not having it likewise!' A minute or two more and in came Picotee.
'What has kept you so long--and how excited you look,' said Ethelberta.
'I thought I would stay a little while, as I had never seen arocket-apparatus,' said Picotee, faintly and strangely.
'But is he there?' asked her sister impatiently.
'Yes--he was. He's gone now!'
'Lord Mountclere?'
'No. There is no old man there at all. Mr Julian was there.'
A little 'Ah!' came from Ethelberta, like a note from a storm-bird atnight. She turned round and went into the back room. 'Is Mr. Juliangoing to call here?' she inquired, coming forward again.
'No--he's gone by the steamboat. He was only passing through on his wayto Sandbourne, where he is gone to settle a small business relating tohis father's affairs. He was not in Knollsea ten minutes, owing tosomething which detained him on the way.'
'Did he inquire for me?'
'No. And only think, Ethelberta--such a remarkable thing has happened,though I nearly forgot to tell you. He says that coming along the roadhe was overtaken by a carriage, and when it had just passed him one ofthe horses shied, pushed the other down a slope, and overturned thecarriage. One wheel came off and trundled to the bottom of the hill byitself. Christopher of course ran up, and helped out of the carriage anold gentleman--now do you know what's likely?'
'It was Lord Mountclere. I am glad that's the cause,' said Ethelbertainvoluntarily.
'I imagined you would suppose it to be Lord Mountclere. But Mr. Juliandid not know the gentleman, and said nothing about who he might be.'
'Did he describe him?'
'Not much--just a little.'
'Well?'
'He said he was a sly old dog apparently, to hear how he swore inwhispers. This affair is what made Mr. Julian so late that he had notime to call here. Lord Mountclere's ankle--if it was LordMountclere--was badly sprained. But the servants were not injured beyonda scratch on the coachman's face. Then they got another carriage anddrove at once back again. It must
be he, or else why is he not come? Itis a pity, too, that Mr. Julian was hindered by this, so that there wasno opportunity for him to bide a bit in Knollsea.'
Ethelberta was not disposed to believe that Christopher would havecalled, had time favoured him to the utmost. Between himself and herthere was that kind of division which is more insurmountable than enmity;for estrangements produced by good judgment will last when those offeeling break down in smiles. Not the lovers who part in passion, butthe lovers who part in friendship, are those who most frequently part forever.
'Did you tell Mr. Julian that the injured gentleman was possibly LordMountclere, and that he was coming here?' said Ethelberta.
'I made no remark at all--I did not think of him till afterwards.'
The inquiry was hardly necessary, for Picotee's words would dry away likea brook in the sands when she held conversation with Christopher.
As they had anticipated, the sufferer was no other than their intendingvisitor. Next morning there was a note explaining the accident, andexpressing its writer's suffering from the cruel delay as greater thanthat from the swollen ankle, which was progressing favourably.
Nothing further was heard of Lord Mountclere for more than a week, whenshe received another letter, which put an end to her season ofrelaxation, and once more braced her to the contest. This epistle wasvery courteously written, and in point of correctness, propriety, andgravity, might have come from the quill of a bishop. Herein the oldnobleman gave a further description of the accident, but the mainbusiness of the communication was to ask her if, since he was not as yetvery active, she would come to Enckworth Court and delight himself and asmall group of friends who were visiting there.
She pondered over the letter as she walked by the shore that day, andafter some hesitation decided to go.