Part 30 (1/2)
So while the train swooped on its way to the port whence the great s.h.i.+ps turn their noses towards the Southern Cross, they drew up the plot, and the roles were cast. Diana Vernilands, for the duration of the voyage only, was to be the penniless, friendless English girl, who could go her ways freely and talk and mix with any one she liked without being watched and criticized. April Poole, in the lovely hats and gowns and jewels of Lady Diana, would accept the dignity and social obligations that hedge a peer's daughter, even on a voyage to South Africa. On arrival at the Cape, each to a.s.sume her ident.i.ty and disappear from the ken of their fellow-travellers: April to be swallowed up by a Cape suburb, where she was engaged to teach music and French to the four daughters of a rich wine-grower; Diana to proceed to her destination--the farm of an eccentric woman painter, somewhere on the veld.
It all looked as simple and harmless as picking apples in an orchard. No one would be any the wiser, they said, and no harm would accrue to anybody, while each girl would have the experience of enjoying herself in a new and original fas.h.i.+on. The only things they did not take into their calculations were their personal idiosyncrasies and the machinations of an old hag called Fate.
”What a time I'll have!” cried Diana. ”Though what you will get out of it as the Earl of Roscannon's daughter beats me. You won't be sick of it half way and want to change back, I hope?”
”If you only knew how sick I am of being April Poole you wouldn't be afraid,” was the fervent answer. Diana looked at her curiously.
”It can't be only the clothes--though of course I imagine it must be rotten, not having the right clothes. By the way, there are plenty for us both, you know. I did myself well in the shopping line, fortunately.”
”I should hardly expect you to wear mine,” said April drily. ”No, as you rightly suspect, it isn't for the clothes, though they fascinate and lure me. And it isn't for the honour and glory of being Lady Diana, though that is fascinating too, and it will be priceless to have the joke on the rest of the world for once. It is for various subtle reasons which I don't suppose you would altogether understand. . . .”
”Never mind them, then,” interrupted Diana. ”I'm not a bit subtle, and don't care tuppence for reasons. All I care about is having a topping time for once in my life. Now, listen, I'll tell you a few things about myself, so that you won't get bowled if any one asks you. My father is Lord Roscannon, and our place is Bethwick Castle, in Northumberland.
It's a gloomy old place that would give you the creeps. My mother died twenty-two years ago when I was born, and my father doesn't care about anything except archaeology, so I have always been in the clutches of my maiden aunt, Lady Grizel Vernilands, who ruled Bethwick and me as long as I can remember. Everyone called her the Grizzly Bear.
”Never mind, she's dead now, and I have been able to persuade papa that my health needs a sea voyage. He suggested the Continent--_of course_ with a companion. But I have been clawed backwards and forwards on the Continent for years by Aunt Grizel, and have had enough. I chose Africa, because it sounds so nice and racy in novels, doesn't it? Fortunately papa's greatest friend, a parson and also an archaeologist, has a daughter out there. She paints, and lives on a farm somewhere on the veld in the Cape Colony, so I am allowed to go and stay with her for three months.
”I even escaped the company of my maid, as you saw, though she tried hard to persuade papa that I should get into trouble without her. I believe she would have come at the last, even without luggage, if I hadn't been too smart for her and had the door locked. Lucky, wasn't it? We should never have been able to execute our little scheme with her about. Now tell me your story.”
”No need to go too closely into that,” said April. ”No one will put you any piercing questions about my family, or be in a position to contradict your statements.”
The Poole family tree, in fact, grew as tall and old as the Roscannon's upon the pages of heraldry, but drink and riotous living had perished its roots and rotted its branches long before April was born. Her father, its last hope, had been a scamp and gamester who broke his wife's heart and bequeathed the cup of poverty and despair to his child's lips. But these were things locked in April's heart, and not for idle telling in a railway carriage.
”I am an orphan without relatives or friends,” she went on quietly. ”No a.s.sets except musical tastes and a knowledge of languages, picked up in cheap Continental schools. I am twenty, and rather embittered by life, but I try not to be, because there's nothing can blacken the face of the sun like bitterness of heart, is there? It can spoil even a spring day.”
Diana looked vague. In spite of tilts and tournaments with the Grizzly Bear, she had no more knowledge of that affliction of bitterness to which April referred than of the bitterness of affliction. The fact was patent in the gay light of her sherry-brown eye and her red mouth, so avid for pleasure. The book of life's difficulties, well conned by April Poole, was still closed to the Earl's only daughter.
”Perhaps she will know a little more about it by the end of the voyage,”
thought April, but without a tinge of malice, for in truth she was neither malicious nor bitter, though she often pretended to herself to be both. Whatever life had done to her, it had not yet robbed her of her powers of resilience, nor quenched her belief in the ultimate benevolence of Fate. Her joy in voyaging to a great unknown land had been a little dimmed by the prospect of the monotonous drudgery that awaits most governesses, but here, already cropping up by the wayside, was a compensating adventure, and her heart, which had been reposing in her boots, took little wings of delight unto itself and nearly flew away with excitement.
Eager as Diana, she threw herself into a discussion of clothes, personal tastes and habits, the exchange of cabins, and ways and means of circ.u.mventing the curiosity and suspicion of their fellow-travellers.
Diana could not do her own hair, but had ascertained that there was a hairdresser on board whom she could visit every day. The ticket for her first-cla.s.s stateroom she cheerfully handed over to April, in exchange for one which gave possession of a berth in a cheaper cabin to be shared with another woman.
”We must do the thing thoroughly,” she insisted, ”and I shan't mind sharing in the least. It may be amusing if the other woman is pleasant.
I don't think you and I had better know each other too well to begin with, do you? We can pretend to make friends as the voyage goes on. Or shall we say that we were at school together?”
”Let us say as little as possible,” said April, who had an objection to telling lies, even little white ones. But Diana did not share her scruples, and plainly averred her intention of ”spinning a yarn” to any one who asked questions.
In a whirl of excitement they arrived at the docks, and were hustled with the rest of the crowd up the steep gangway that led to the deck of the Union Castle Company's latest and most modern liner, the _Clarendon Castle_. April, who had exchanged her cloth coat for Diana's sables, felt the eyes of the world burning and piercing through the costly furs to the secret in her bosom. But Diana felt no such discomfort, jubilant in her new-found liberty, she paced the decks, inspected the s.h.i.+p, made friends with the first officer and several pa.s.sengers, and finally went down to lunch in the dining saloon. She seated herself at the general table, and as a number of merry people were toasting each other farewell in champagne, she thought it only fitting to order a half-bottle for herself. Some of the women looked at her curiously, but that did not daunt Diana, especially after she had begun on the champagne.
April, placed at some distance in solitary state, noted and envied the coolness and composure of her fellow-conspirator. She, too, had meant to be one of the general crowd, but already the news of her rank and state had tickled the ears of the chief steward, and she found herself reverently waylaid and conducted with ceremony to a small table, whence she could gaze and be gazed upon by the rest of the world without fear of contamination. A steward, told off for her special service, hovered about her like a guardian angel, and during the meal a gold-braided personality approached and, murmuring the Captain's compliments, hoped that when the voyage had once started she would grace his table by her presence. Afar off, Diana cast her a grin over the rim of a wine-gla.s.s, but gave no further sign of recognition.
It is a phenomenon well known to travellers, that when the last warning bell rings on board a departing s.h.i.+p all the pretty women and interesting men go ash.o.r.e, leaving only the dull and fusty ones behind. Diana and April, however, were not depressed by this spectacle, for to the former, in her position of free-lance, all men looked interesting and all women superfluous; while April, in full possession of the beautifully appointed stateroom on the promenade deck, to which she had retired directly after lunch, was too busy reviewing the position to think about fellow-pa.s.sengers just then. She was bothered over the business of sitting at the Captain's table. She had seen him on the boat deck as she came aboard, and her heart failed her at the thought of deceiving such a genial, kindly-looking man. It was plain that the experiment of ”taking people in” was not going to be so pricelessly funny as she had antic.i.p.ated. She said so to Diana, who came to her cabin as soon as the s.h.i.+p started to make a selection of clothes. But Diana would listen to none of her virtuous backslidings.
”You can't back out now,” she said firmly. ”A bargain's a bargain, and I've told everyone I am April Poole, going to Africa to be a governess, and all the s.h.i.+p knows you are Lady Diana Vernilands. We should be a spectacle for the G.o.ds if we change back now. No one would believe us, either. We'd only be looked upon with suspicion for the rest of the voyage, and all our fun and pleasure spoilt. For goodness's sake don't be an idiot!”
That was all the slightly conscience-stricken April got for her pains, and Diana stalked off triumphant, lugging a suit-case and an armful of wraps. April heard her explaining to a stewardess in the corridor that her baggage had got mixed up with Lady Diana Verniland's, and that it was very awkward; and then she saw and heard no more of her for several days.
For immediately on emerging from the Solent the _Clarendon_ ran into very heavy weather, which continued until the Bay of Biscay was pa.s.sed, keeping all but the hardiest travellers confined to their cabins. April, who was among the victims, had plenty of solitary leisure in which to repent her misdeed if she felt so inclined. But the impulse to repent soon pa.s.sed, and workaday wisdom rea.s.sured her that what she and Diana were doing was really very harmless and of no consequence to any one but themselves. No very great effort was required to make the best of the situation and enjoy it as much as Diana had evidently determined to do.
It was very pleasant, after all, to be waited on and fussed about as though she were a person of infinite importance instead of a shabby, trim governess. She, who had padded the b.u.mps of life for others so long, could now thoroughly appreciate having the same service performed for herself.