Part 33 (1/2)
”No; or with a son either. But Jim is my only one, and I should like him to marry early, and see my grandson growing up, if I'm spared so long. I shouldn't care for my brother Alfred's boys to come into the succession.
However, that's a long way ahead yet. Jim's a steady fellow now, and inclined to take his life seriously--more seriously, perhaps, than we did when we were young fellows; but it's not a bad thing either. What I mean is that I think it would be a good thing for him to marry, and with such a wife as your Pamela--well, he'd be a very lucky fellow, and she'd get him on in the world. There's still something to do for a man in the position he'll have to fill, and the right sort of wife would help him no end.”
When Lord Crowborough had pedalled himself away, Colonel Eldridge went back to his room, and sat there in front of the fire, with pleasanter thoughts to keep him company than he had had for some time. The episode with Fred Comfrey had made its mark upon him, though it had come and gone so quickly that he had suffered little distress because of it. He could hardly help thinking of himself as having come down in the world, since he was no longer able to support the modest dignity that had been his as the head of an old-established family living in the large house in the middle of his acres in which his fathers had lived before him.
Fred Comfrey's proposal had seemed to mark that descent, for it had not been from among men such as he that the daughters of the house had taken their husbands. Now this so different proposal wiped out the effect of that one. If only Pamela...!
When he told his wife about it, he found that it was no new idea to her.
”I didn't want to talk about it,” she said, ”because one is naturally careful about not appearing to rush at a marriage of that sort. There will be plenty of people to say that we have been angling for it--or that I have--if it does happen. I do think that there's no doubt about Jim. In fact, I shouldn't be in the least surprised if he hadn't put it to Pam already.”
”What--do you mean to say that they have come to an understanding?”
”I'm afraid not. If he has asked her, she has refused him. I don't know, because she has said nothing to me; but one has a sort of instinct with one's own daughters. Perhaps it's more likely that she won't give him an answer yet. They are as good friends as ever. I don't think he would come here in the way he does if she had refused him definitely.”
This rather dashed him. ”Crowborough said something about Judith,” he said. ”He'd had an idea that she was the attraction; but her ladys.h.i.+p seems to have chased that idea out of his head.”
Mrs. Eldridge laughed, and said: ”For once I agree with her. I was inclined to think it was Judith at one time myself, though I'd hardly come to think of her as more than a child. They get on splendidly together, and really I think she'd be more suited to him than Pam.
However, there's no good thinking of that, for it is Pam, and there's no doubt about it. Darling Pam! I do wish she would come round to it. She is taking our present troubles hardly, and it would be good for her to be lifted out of them. Perhaps she will, in time. But there's no good in pressing her; we must just leave it.”
”Oh, pressing her! Good heavens, no! I shouldn't like her to marry him for the reasons that would appeal to us, either. I believe in a love match, for everybody; but there ought to be something behind it too.”
Mrs. Eldridge leant over his chair and kissed him on the forehead.
”We've never regretted our love match, have we?” she said.
He reached up and took her hand in his. ”We hardly thought it was going to bring us to this pa.s.s towards the close of our lives,” he said. ”But it won't part us, so it's not so bad. Crowborough said he might be able to find a house for us. There are several nice little places on his property. If one of them fell vacant, I could carry on here from it.
Otherwise, I don't see anything for it but to put in an agent, and only come down now and then. I think now we've made up our minds, the worst is over. I wish William had written, though. He couldn't do anything to help us, perhaps; but I should have thought it must have meant something to him--our having to clear out. Norman must have told him, and there would have been time to hear from him by now.”
”If there's nothing he could do,” she said, ”perhaps it's as well that he should leave it alone. We don't want the contrast between us made plainer than it is.”
With that she left him. She could not trust herself to talk with him about his brother, against whom her anger was hot within her. She knew with what a weight the estrangement was lying upon him now; that the irritation he had felt against William had all disappeared; and that he was inclined to blame himself for all that had happened, to the justification of the man who was pursuing his eager successful course without an apparent thought of the troubles from which he had cut himself loose. She had hoped something from William until now. Looking back upon the whole course of the quarrel, she did recognize that he had made efforts to end it, and shown here and there the generosity which had always been a mark of his character. But, after all, his generosity had been easy to exercise. They had all lived in close contact for years, and he had got as good as he had given, in the affection which had prompted his generosity. Now that had fallen into the second place with him; he was in pursuit of a.s.sociations other than the ties of family, and it was to further them that his openhandedness would be used. What did they matter to him at Hayslope? He had run away from the place in which so many of his interests had been bound up, rather than face the awkwardness of a situation which he could have ended at any time by a little patience and consideration. Even their leaving it was nothing to him now. Four days had gone by since he must have been told of it. He was not away, for Norman had written to Pam only the day before, and mentioned him. It must be accepted now that he didn't care. It would be as well that her husband should come to recognize that, and then he would cease longing for what was over and done with, and rely only upon those who loved him so dearly for his solace in life.
But she couldn't hasten the time. He must be made sadder yet before he could put away his sadness, and accept the new conditions.
She talked to Pamela that night. No pressure was to be put on her, she had said. She put all the pressure of which she was capable, being very careful to disguise the fact that she was putting any pressure at all.
She loved Pamela more than her other girls; she was making more and more of a companion of her; she would hate giving her up to the best of husbands. But to please her own husband, to get for him, something that would lift from him some of the weight under which he was drooping, she would have pushed her daughter into a marriage with less prospects of happiness in it than this held out. She was ruthless with her, while talking to her with a sort of cooing tenderness and sympathy, and searching among half confessions and confidences for the point upon which she could concentrate to move her. Her father was mentioned but rarely. There was no plea to sacrifice herself for his sake. But it was inherent in everything that she said that submission on Pamela's part would bring something to him that nothing else could in these shadowed days. She did not place before her any of the advantages that would accrue to her from a marriage that would bring her wealth and station.
She mentioned them only to make light of them. _They_ knew, she and Pamela, that those were not the best things in life, though one was better off with them than without them. What were the best things? They seemed to be summed up in Horsham, according to her opinion, though she did not overpraise him.
No disagreement was possible with anything that she said. She put herself apparently into complete accord with Pamela, and made it difficult for her so much as to say that she didn't love Horsham; for that would have been the answer to an invitation that was never made, in so many words. The respect and even affection that Pamela was made to acknowledge as representing her feelings towards Horsham were taken as the most satisfactory with which to start upon married life. That was apparently agreed on all hands, and was hardly worth discussing. The question of ”falling in love” was lightly touched upon. It sometimes happened before marriage, sometimes afterwards. The marriages that began with youthful raptures didn't always turn out the most satisfactory. It seemed to be indicated that there was something almost indelicate in a girl's looking out for those raptures; she would have no fear of such a desire in a daughter of hers.
They ended their long talk under the supposition that Pamela wouldn't marry for years to come, and discussed the future hopefully. It would be splendid if Lord Crowborough did find them a nice house, near enough to Hayslope for father to be able to look after things from there. They could furnish a house of three or four sitting-rooms and eight or ten bedrooms beautifully from the Hall, and leave quite enough behind them.
They could have a lovely garden, and there would probably be enough land for a little farmery, in which they would all interest themselves. ”I'm sure we should be much happier than we are here now,” Mrs. Eldridge said. ”I think even father has come to see that, and if he gets rid of his worries we shall have him with us for many years to come, just as he used to be. He is more cheerful now than he has been for a long time, though he isn't well. I do think there's a brighter time coming for us at last.”
CHAPTER XXIX
THE NEW CHAPTER
Miss Baldwin came back to Hayslope after the Christmas holidays not without hopes of developments having taken place during her absence, which would introduce the new chapter she was longing for. Her return after holidays was always greeted with welcoming chatter by Alice and Isabelle, who were of an age when even the arrival of a governess to whom they were not greatly attached was something of an excitement. Miss Baldwin never seemed to take much interest in the news they poured out to her, and she asked very few questions; but she had gathered a good deal by the time her charges were in bed and her time was her own to think it over.
The coming move was the most important piece of news. The excitement of the children over any change was enough in this instance at least to balance their regrets at leaving Hayslope. It was not quite settled yet, but it was almost certain that they were going some time in the spring to live at that dear old farmhouse which you pa.s.sed on the road to Persh.o.r.e, about half a mile before you came to the Castle. Miss Baldwin remembered it quite well, and the news gave her rather a shock, though the children seemed to be delighted with the idea. It was an old stone-built house standing very near the road, with its farmstead adjoining it--hardly a gentleman's residence, in her opinion, and a great come down from Hayslope Hall. But it was the farm buildings, which would go with it, that made it attractive in the eyes of Alice and Isabelle. And they were to have ponies. That would have made up for more than they would actually lose by the move. Lord Crowborough was going to do a good deal to the house before they went to it. It was bigger than it looked from the outside, and there was a lovely great attic running the whole length of the house where they would be able to play.