Nurse Heatherdale's Story Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  TRELUAN

  There were fors and againsts, as there are with most things in thisworld. Father was sorry for me to leave so soon and go so far, and hescarce thought the wages what I might now look for. Mother felt with himabout the parting, but mother was a far-seeing woman. She thought thechange would be the best thing for me after my trouble, and she thoughta deal of my being with real gentry. Not but that Mrs. Wyngate's familywas all one could think highly of, but Mr. Wyngate's great fortune hadbeen made in trade, and there was a little more talk and thought ofriches and display among them than quite suited mother's ideas, and shehad sometimes feared it spoiling me.

  'The wages I wouldn't put first,' she said. 'A good home and simple waysamong real gentlefolk--that's what I'd choose for thee, my girl. Andthe children are good children and not silly spoilt things, andstraightforward and well-bred, I take it?'

  'All that and more,' I answered. 'If anything, they've been a bit toostrict brought up, I'd say. If I go to them I shall try to make MissLally brighten up--not that she's a dull child, but she has the look oftaking things to heart more than one likes to see at her age. And poorMaster Francis--I'm sure he'd be none the worse of a little petting--sodelicate as he is and his lameness.'

  'You'll find your work to do, if you go--no fear,' said mother. 'Maybeit's a call.'

  I got to think so myself--and when my lady wrote that all she heard fromMrs. Wyngate was most satisfactory, I made up my mind to accept heroffer, and told her so when she came down again for a few hours the endof the week.

  We stayed but a fortnight longer at Brayling--and a busy fortnight itwas. I had my own things to see to a little, and would fain havefinished the set of shirts I had begun for father. The days seemed tofly. I scarce could believe it was not a dream when I found myself withall the family in a second-class railway carriage, starting fromPaddington on our long journey.

  It was a long journey, especially as, to save expense, we had come upfrom Brayling that same morning. We were not to reach the little townwhere we left the railway till nearly midnight, to sleep there, I wasglad for the poor children's sake to hear, and start again the nextmorning on a nineteen miles' journey by coach.

  'And then,' said Miss Lally, with one of her deep sighs, 'we shall be athome.'

  I thought there was some content in her sigh this time.

  'Shall you be glad, dearie, to be at home again?' I said.

  'I fink so,' she answered. 'And oh, I am glad you've comed wif us,'stead of Sharp. And Francie's almost more gladder still, aren't you,dear old Francie?'

  'I should just think I was,' said the boy.

  'Sharp,'--and the little girl lowered her voice and glanced round; wewere, so to speak, alone at one end of the carriage,--Miss Lally, hercousin and I, for Miss Baby was already asleep in my arms and Miss Besstalking, like a grown-up young lady, at the other end, with her papaand mamma--'Sharp,' said Miss Lally, 'really _hated_ poor Francie,because she thought he told mamma about her tempers. And she made mammathink he was naughty when he wasn't. Francie and I were frightened whenSharp went away that mamma would think it was his fault. But she didn't.Queen spoke to her, and Mrs. Dame' (that was her name for old Sarah)'did too. And you didn't get scolded, did you, Francie?'

  'No,' said Master Francie quietly, 'I didn't.'

  He looked as if he were going to say more, but just then Miss Bess, whohad had enough for the time, of being grown up--and indeed she was but acomplete child at heart--got up from her seat and came to our end of thecarriage. Sir Hulbert was reading his newspaper, and my lady was makingnotes in a little memorandum book.

  'What are you talking about?' said the eldest little sister, sittingdown beside me. 'You all look very comfortable, Baby especially.'

  'We are talking about Sharp going away,' replied Miss Lally, 'andFrancie thinking he'd be scolded for it.'

  'Oh! do leave off about that and talk of something nicer. Franz isreally silly. If you'd only speak right out to mamma,' she went on,'things would be ever so much better.'

  The boy shook his head rather sadly.

  'Now you know,' said Miss Bess, 'they would be. Mamma is never unjust.'

  She was speaking in her clear decided way, and feeling a little afraidlest their voices should reach to the other end--I wouldn't have likedmy lady to think I encouraged the children in talking her over--I triedto change the conversation.

  'Won't you tell me a little about your home?' I said. 'You know it'llall be quite new to me; I've only seen the sea once or twice in my life,and never lived by it.'

  'Treluan isn't quite close to the sea,' said Master Francis, evidentlytaking up my feeling. 'We can see it from some of the top rooms, andfrom one end of the west terrace at high tides, and we can hear it toowhen it's stormy. But it's really two miles to the coast.'

  'There are such dear little bays, lots of them,' said Miss Bess. 'We canplay Robinson Crusoe and smugglers and all sorts of things, for the baysare quite separated from each other by the rocks.'

  'There's caves in some,' said Miss Lally, 'rather f'ightening caves,they're so dark;' but her eyes sparkled as if she were quite able toenjoy some adventures.

  'We shall be at no loss for nice walks, I see; but how do you amuseyourselves on wet days?'

  'Oh! we've always plenty to do,' said Miss Bess. 'Miss Kirstin comesfrom the Vicarage every morning for our lessons, and twice a week papateaches Franz and me Latin in the afternoon, and the house is very big,you know. When we can't go out, we may race about in the attics over thenurseries. There's a stair goes up to the tower, just by the nurserydoor, and you pass the attics on the way. They're called the towerattics, because there are lots more over the other end of the house.Francie's room is in the tower.'

  It was easy to see by this talk that Treluan was a large and importantplace.

  'I suppose the house is very, very old?' I said.

  'Oh yes! thousands--I mean hundreds--of years old. Centuries meanhundreds, don't they, Franz?' said she, turning to her cousin.

  'Yes, dear,' he answered gently, though I could see he was inclined tosmile a little. 'If you know English history,' he went on to me, 'Icould tell you exactly how old, Treluan is. The first bit of it wasbuilt in the reign of King Henry the Third, though it's been changedever so often since then. About a hundred years ago the Penroses werevery rich, very rich indeed. But when one of them died--our great, greatgrand-uncle, I think it was--and his nephew took possession, it wasfound the old man had sold a lot of the land secretly--it wasn't to betold till his death--and no one has ever been able to find out what hedid with the money. It was the best of the land too.'

  'And they were so surprised,' said Miss Bess, 'for he'd been a verysaving old man, and they thought there'd be lots of money over, any way.Wasn't it too bad of him--horrid old thing?'

  'Queen,' said Miss Lally gravely. 'You know we fixed never to call himthat, 'cos he's dead. He was a--oh, what's that word?--something likethose things in the hall at home--helmet--was it that? No--do tell me,Queen.'

  'You're muddling it up with crusaders, you silly little thing,' saidMiss Bess. 'How could he have been a crusader only a hundred years ago?'

  'No, no, it isn't that--I said it was _like_ it,' said Miss Lally,ready to cry. 'What's the other word for helmet?'

  'I know,' said Master Francis, '_vizor_--and----'

  'Yes, yes--and the old man was a _miser_, that's it,' said the child.'Papa said so, and he said it's like a' illness, once people get it theycan't leave off.'

  Miss Bess and Master Francis could not help laughing at the funny waythe child said it, nor could I myself, for that matter. And then theywent on to tell me more of the strange old story--how their greatgrandfather and their grandfather after him had always gone on hopingthe missing money would sooner or later turn up, though it never did,till--putting what the children told me together with my lady's ownwords--it became clear that poor Sir Hulbert had come into a sadlyimpoverished state of things.

  'Perhaps the
late baronet and his father were not of the "saving" sort,'I said to myself, and from what I came to hear afterwards, I fancy I wasabout right.

  After a while my lady came to our end of the carriage. She was afraid,she said, I'd find Miss Baby too heavy--wouldn't I lay her comfortablyon the seat, there was plenty of room?--my lady was always thoughtfulfor others--and then when we had got the child settled, she sat downand joined in our talk a little.

  'We've been telling Martha about Treluan and about the old uncle thatdid something with the money,' said Miss Bess.

  My lady did not seem to mind.

  'It is a queer story, isn't it?' she said. 'Worse than queer,indeed----' and she sighed. 'Though even with it, things would not be asthey are, if other people had not added their part to them.'

  She glanced round in a half impatient way, and somehow her glance fellon Master Francis, and I almost started as I caught sight of theexpression that had come over her face--it was a look of real dislike.

  'Sit up, Francis--do, for goodness' sake,' she said sharply; 'you makeyourself into a regular humpback.'

  The boy's pale, almost sallow face reddened all over. He had beenlistening with interest to the talking, and taking his part in it. Nowhe straightened himself nervously, murmuring something that soundedlike, 'I beg your pardon, Aunt Helen,' and sat gazing out of the windowbeside him as if lost in his own thoughts. I busied myself with pullingthe rugs better over Miss Baby, so that my lady should not see my facejust then. But I think she felt sorry for her sharp tone, for when shespoke again it was even more pleasantly than usual.

  'Have you told nurse other things about Treluan, children?' she said.'It is really a dear old place,' she went on to me; 'it might be made_quite_ delightful if Sir Hulbert could spend a little more upon it. Ihad set my heart on new furnishing your room this year, Bess darling,but I'm afraid it will have to wait.'

  'Never mind, dear,' said Miss Bess comfortingly, in her old-fashionedway, 'there's no hurry. If I could have fresh covers to the chairs, thefurniture itself--I mean the _wood_ part--is quite good.'

  'I did get some nice chintz in London,' said her mamma; 'there was someselling off rather cheap. But it's the getting things made--everythingdown with us is so difficult and expensive,' and my lady sighed. Hermind seemed full of the one idea, and I began to think she should try totake a cheerier view of things.

  'If you'll excuse me mentioning it,' I said, 'I have had some experiencein the cutting out of chair-covers and such things. It would be a greatpleasure to me to help to make the young ladies' rooms nice.'

  'That would be very nice indeed,' said my lady; 'I really should like todo what we can to brighten up the old house. I expect it will look verygloomy to you, nurse, till you get used to it. I do want Bess's room tolook better. Of course Lally is in the nursery still, and won't need aroom of her own for a long time yet.'

  Miss Lally was sitting beside me, and as her mamma spoke, I heard a verytiny little sigh.

  'Never mind, Miss Lally dear,' I whispered. 'We'll brighten up thenurseries too, nicely.'

  These little scraps of talk come back to my mind now, when I think ofthat first journey down to Treluan so many years ago. I put them downsuch as they are, as they may help better than words of my own to givean idea of the dear children and all about them, as they then were.

  We reached Treluan the afternoon of the next day. It was a dull dayunfortunately, though the very middle of summer--rainy and gray. Ofcourse every one knows that there's much weather of that kind in thewest country, but no doubt it added to the impression of gloom withwhich the first sight of the old house struck me, I must confess.Gloom, perhaps, is hardly the word to use; it was more a feeling ofdesertedness, almost of decayed grandeur, quite unlike anything I hadever seen before. For in my former place everything had been bright andnew, fresh and perfect of its kind. Afterwards, when I came to see intothings better, I found there was no neglect or mismanagement; everythingthat _could_ be done was done by Sir Hulbert outside, and my lady in herown department--uphill and trying work though it must often have beenfor them.

  But that first evening, when I looked round the great lofty hall intowhich my lady had led the way, dusky and dim already with the rainpattering against the high arched windows and a chilly feeling in theair, the half dozen servants or so, who had come out to meetus--evidently the whole establishment--standing round, I must own thatin spite of the children's eager excitement and delight at findingthemselves at home again, my heart went down. I did feel sovery far away from home and father and mother, and everythingI had ever known. The first thing to cheer me was when the oldhousekeeper--cook-housekeeper she really was--Mrs. Brent, came forwardafter speaking to my lady, and shook me kindly by the hand.

  'Welcome to Treluan, Nurse Heatherdale,' she said. And here I shouldexplain that as there was already a Martha in the house, my lady hadexpressed her wish that I should be called 'nurse,' or 'Heatherdale,'from which came my name of 'Heather,' that I have always been called by.'Welcome to Treluan, and don't go for to think that it's always as dullas you see it just now, as like as not to-morrow will be bright andsunny.'

  She was a homely-looking body with a very kind face, not Cornish bred Ifound afterwards, though she had lived there many years. Something abouther made me think of mother, and I felt the tears rise to my eyes,though no one saw.

  'Shall I show nurse the way upstairs, my lady?' she said. For Mrs. Brentwas like her looks, simple and friendly like. She had never knownTreluan in its grand days of course, though she had known it when thingswere a good deal easier than at present; and that evening, when thechildren were asleep, she came up to sit with me a bit, and, though withperfect respect to her master and mistress and no love of gossip in hertalk (for of that she was quite free), she explained to me a few thingswhich already had puzzled me a little. No praise was too high for SirHulbert with her, and my lady was a really good, high-minded woman. 'Butshe takes her troubles too heavy,' said Mrs. Brent; 'she's like to breakher heart at having no son of her own, and that and other things makeher not show her best self to poor little Master Francis, though,considering he's been here since he was four, 'tis a wonder he doesn'tseem to her like a child of her own. And Sir Hulbert feels it; it's areal grief to him, for he loved Master Francis's father dearly throughall the troubles he caused them, and anyway 'tis not fair to visit thefather's sin on the innocent child.'

  Then she told me how Master Francis's father had made things worse byhis extravagance, half-breaking his young wife's heart and leaving debtsbehind him, when he was killed by an accident; and that Sir Hulbert, forthe honour of the family, had taken these debts upon himself.

  'His wife was a pretty young creature, half a foreigner. Sir Hulbert hadher brought here with the boy, and here she died, not long before MissLalage was born, and so, failing a son, Master Francis is the heir, anda sweet, good young gentleman he is, though nothing as to looks. 'Tis apity he's so shy and timid in his ways; it gives my lady the idea he'snot straightforward, though that I'm very sure he is, and mostaffectionate at heart, though he hasn't the knack of showing it.'

  'Except to Miss Lally, I should say,' I put in; 'how those two do clingtogether, to be sure.'

  'He loves them all dearly, my lady too, though he's frightened of her.Miss Lally's the one he's most at home with, because she's so little,and none of Miss Bess's masterful ways about her. Poor dear Miss Lally,many's the trouble she's got into for Master Francis's sake.'

  All this was very interesting to me, and helped to clear my mind in someways from the first, which was, I take it, a good thing. Mrs. Brent saidlittle about Sharp, but I could see she had not approved of her; and shewas so kind as to add some words about myself, and feeling sure I wouldmake the children happy, especially the two whom it was easy to see wereher own favourites, Miss Lally and her cousin. This made me feel themore earnest to do my very best in every way for the young creaturesunder my care.