Nurse Heatherdale's Story Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  A NURSERY TEA

  Writing down that talk with good Mrs. Brent made me put aside theaccount of our arrival at Treluan, clearly though I remember it. Even tothis day I never go up the great staircase--of course it is not oftenthat I pass that way--without recalling the feelings with which Istepped up it for the first time--Mrs. Brent in front, carrying a smallhand-lamp, the passages being so dark, though it was still early in theevening; the children running on before me, except Miss Baby, who wasrather sleepy and very cross, poor dear, so that half way up I had tolift her in my arms. All up the dark wainscoted walls, dead and gonePenroses looked down upon us, in every sort of ancient costume. Theyused to give me a half eerie feeling till I got to know them better andto take a certain pride in them, feeling myself, as I came to do,almost like one of the family, though in a humble way.

  At the top of the great staircase we passed along the gallery, whichruns right across one side of the hall below; then through a door on theright and down a long passage ending in a small landing, from which aback staircase ran down again to the ground floor. The nurseries inthose days were the two large rooms beyond, now turned into abilliard-room, my present lady thinking them scarcely warm enough forthe winter. It is handy too to have the billiard-room near thetower, where the smoking-room now is, and the spare rooms forgentlemen-visitors. A door close beside the nurseries opened on to thetower stair; some little way up this stair another door leads into thetwo or three big attics over the nurseries, which the children used asplayrooms in the wet weather. Master Francis's room was the lowest dooron the tower staircase, half way as it were, as to level, between thenurseries and the attics. The ground-floor rooms of the tower wereentered from below, as the separate staircase only began from thenursery floor. All these particulars, of course, I learnt by degrees,having but a very general idea of things that first night; but plans ofhouses and buildings have always had an interest for me, and as a girlI think I had a quick eye for sizes and proportions. I do remember thefirst time I saw the ground-floor room of the tower, under MasterFrancis's, so to say, wondering to myself how it came to be so low inthe ceiling, seeing that the floor of his room was several feet higherthan that of the nurseries. No doubt others would have been struck bythis also, had the lowest room in the tower been one in regular use, butas long as any one could remember it had only been a sort oflumber-room. It was only by accident that I went into it one day, monthsafter I had come to Treluan.

  The nurseries were nice airy rooms; the schoolroom was underneath theday nursery, down on the ground floor; and Miss Bess's room was off thelittle landing I spoke of before you came to the nursery passage. Butall seemed dim and dusky in the half light, that first evening. It waslong before the days of gas, of course, except in towns, though that, Iam told, is now thought nothing of compared to this new electric light,which Sir Bevil is thinking of establishing here, to be made on thepremises in some wonderful way. And even lamps at that time were verydifferent from what they are now, when every time my lady goes up totown she brings back some beautiful new invention for turning night intoday.

  I was glad, I remember, June though it was, to see a bright fire in thenursery grate--Mrs. Brent was always thoughtful--and the tea laid outnice and tidy on the table. Miss Baby brightened up at sight of it, andthe others gathered round to see what good things the housekeeper hadprovided for them by way of welcome home.

  'I hope there's some clotted cream,' said Miss Bess; 'yes, that's right!Nurse has never seen it before, I'm sure. Fancy, Mrs. Brent, mamma saysthe silly people in London call it Devonshire cream, and I'm sure it'sfar more Cornish. And honey and some of your own little scones andsaffron cakes, that is nice! Mayn't we have tea immediately?'

  'I must wash my hands,' said Master Francis, 'they did get so black inthe carriage.'

  'And mine too,' said Miss Lally. 'Oh, nurse, mayn't Francis wash his foronce in the night nursery, to be quick?'

  'Why didn't you both keep your gloves on, you dirty children?' said MissBess in her masterful way. 'My hands are as clean as clean, and ofcourse Francis mustn't begin muddling in the nursery. You'd never haveasked Sharp that, Lally. It's just the sort of thing mamma doesn't like.I shall take my things off in my own room at once.' And she marched tothe door as she spoke, stopping for a moment on the way to say tome--'Heatherdale, you'll come into my room, won't you, as soon as everyou can, to talk about the new chair-covers?'

  'I won't forget about them, Miss Bess,' I said quietly; 'but for a fewdays I am sure to be busy, unpacking and looking over the things thatwere left here.'

  The child said nothing more, but I saw by the lift of her head that shewas not altogether pleased.

  'Now Master Francis,' I went on, 'perhaps you had better run off to yourown room to wash your hands. It's always best to keep to regular ways.'

  The boy obeyed at once. I had, to tell the truth, been on the point ofletting him do as Miss Lally had wanted, but Miss Bess's speech hadgiven me a hint, though I was not sorry for her not to have seen it. Ishould be showing Master Francis no true kindness to begin by any lookof spoiling him, and I saw by a little smile on Mrs. Brent's face thatshe thought me wise, even though it was not till later in the eveningthat I had the long talk with her that I have already mentioned.

  Our tea was bright and cheery, Miss Baby's spirits returned, and shekept us all laughing by her funny little speeches. My lady came in whenwe had nearly finished, just to see how all the children were--perhapstoo, for she was full of kind thoughtfulness, to make me feel myselfmore at home. She sat down in the chair by the fire, with a little sigh,and I was sorry to see the anxious, harassed look on her beautiful face.

  'You all look very comfortable,' she said; 'please give me a cup of tea,nurse. I found such a lot of things to do immediately, that I've not hadtime to think of tea yet, and poor Sir Hulbert is off in the rain to seeabout some broken fences. Oh dear! what a contrary world it seems,' sheadded half laughingly.

  'How did the fences get broken, mamma?' said Miss Bess; 'and why didn'tGarth get them mended at once without waiting to tease papa the momenthe got home?'

  'Some cattle got wild and broke them, and if they are not put right atonce, more damage may be done. But all these repairs are expensive. Itonly happened two days ago; poor Garth was obliged to tell papa beforedoing it. Dear me,' she said again, 'it really does seem sometimes as ifmoney would put everything in life right.'

  'Oh! my lady,' I exclaimed hastily, and then I got red with shame at myforwardness and stopped short. I felt very sorry for her; the onethought seemed never out of her mind, and bid fair to poison her happyhome. I felt too that it was scarcely the sort of talk for the childrento hear, Miss Bess being already in some ways so old for her years, andthe two others scarce as light-hearted as they should have been.

  My lady smiled at me.

  'Say on, Heatherdale; I'd like to hear what you think about it.'

  I felt my face getting still redder, but I had brought it on myself.

  'It was only, my lady,' I began, 'that it seems to me that there are somany troubles worse than want of money. There's my last lady's sister,for instance, Mrs. Vernon,--everything in the world has she that moneycan give, but she's lost all her babies, one after the other, and she'sjust heart-broken. Then there's young Lady Mildred Parry, whose parentsown the finest place near my home, and she's their only child; but shehad a fall from her horse two years ago and her back is injured forlife; she often drives past our cottage, lying all stretched-out-like,in a carriage made on purpose.'

  My lady was silent. Suddenly, to my surprise, Master Francis looked upquickly.

  'I don't think I'd mind that so very much,' he said, 'not if my backdidn't hurt badly. I think it would be better than walking with your legalways aching, and I daresay everybody loves that girl dreadfully.'

  He stopped as suddenly as he had begun, giving a quick frightened glanceround, and growing not red but still paler than usual, as was his way.

  'Poor litt
le Francie,' said Miss Lally, stretching her little hand outto him and looking half ready to cry.

  'Don't be silly, Lally; if Francis's leg hurts him he has only to sayso, and it will be attended to as it has always been. If everybody lovesthat young Lady Mildred, no doubt it is because she is sweet and loving_to_ everybody.'

  Then she grew silent again and seemed to be thinking.

  'You are right, nurse,' she said. 'I am very grateful when I see mydear children all well and happy.'

  'And _good_,' added Miss Bess with her little toss of the head.

  'Well, yes, of course,' said her mother smiling. It was seldom, if ever,Miss Bess was pulled up for anything she took it into her head to say,whether called for or not.

  'But,' my lady went on in a lower voice, turning to me, as if she hardlywished the children to hear, 'want of money isn't my only, nor indeed myworst trouble.--I must go,' and she got up as she spoke; 'there aretwenty things waiting for me to attend to downstairs. Good-night,children dear; I'll come up and peep at you in bed if I possibly can,but I'm not sure if I shall be able. If not, nurse must do instead of mefor to-night,' and she turned towards the door, moving in the quickgraceful way she always did.

  'Franz!' said Miss Bess reprovingly; the poor boy was already gettingoff his chair, but he was too late to open the door. I doubt if his auntnoticed his moving at all.

  'You're always so slow and clumsy,' said his eldest cousin. The wordssounded unkind, but it was greatly that Miss Bess wanted him to pleaseher mamma, for the child had an excellent heart.

  There was plenty to do after that first evening for all of us. I gotsleepy Miss Baby to bed as soon as might be. The poor dear, she _was_sleepy! I remember how, when she knelt down in her little whitenightgown to say her prayers, she could only just get out, 'T'ank Godfor b'inging us safe home;' as she had evidently been taught to sayafter a journey.

  'Baby thinks that's enough, when she's been ter-a-velling,' explainedMiss Lally.

  Then I set to work to unpack, and it was quite surprising how handy thetwo elder girls--and not they only, but Master Francis too--were inhelping me, and explaining where their things were kept and all thenursery ways. Then I had to be shown Miss Bess's room, and nearlyoffended her little ladyship by saying I hadn't time just then to settleabout the new covers. For I was determined to give some attention toMaster Francis also.

  His room was very plain, not to say bare; not that I hold with pamperingboys, but he being delicate, it did seem to me he might have had a couchor easy-chair to rest his poor leg. He was very eager to make the bestof things, telling me I had no idea what a beautiful view there wasfrom his windows, of which there were three.

  'I love the tower,' he said. 'I wouldn't change my room here for anyother in the house.'

  And I must say I thought it was very nice of him to put things in thatway, considering too the sharp tone in which I had heard his aunt speakto him that very evening.

  When I woke the next morning I found that Mrs. Brent's words had cometrue, for the sun was pouring in at the window, and when I drew up theblind and looked out I would scarce have known the place to be the same.The outlook was bare, to be sure, compared with the well-wooded countryabout my home; but the grounds just around the house were carefullykept, though in a plain way, no bedding-out plants or rare foreignshrubs, such as I had been used to see at Mr. Wyngate's country place.But all about Treluan there was the charm which no money will buy--thecharm of age, very difficult to put into words, though I felt itstrongly.

  A little voice just then came across the room.

  'Nurse, dear.' It was Miss Lalage. 'It's a very fine day, isn't it? Ihave been watching the sun getting up ever so long. When I firstwokened, it was nearly quite dark.'

  I looked at the child. She was sitting up in her cot; her face lookedtired, and her large gray eyes had dark lines beneath them, as if shehad not slept well. Miss Baby was still slumbering away in happycontent--she was a child to sleep, to be sure! A round of the clock wasnothing for her.

  'My dear Miss Lally,' I said, 'you have never been awake since dawn,surely. Is your head aching, or is something the matter?'

  She gave a little sigh.

  'No, fank you, it's nothing but finking, I mean th-inking. Oh! I wish Icould speak quite right, Bess says it's so babyish.'

  'Thinking! and what have you been thinking about, dearie? You shouldhave none but happy thoughts. Isn't it nice to be at home again? andthis beautiful summer weather! We can go such nice walks. You've got toshow me all the pretty places about.'

  'Yes,' said Miss Lally. 'I'd like that, but we'll be having lessons nextweek,--not all day long, we can go beautiful walks in the afternoons.'

  'Was it about lessons you were troubling your little head?'

  'No,' she said, though not very heartily. 'I don't like them much, atleast not those _very_ high up sums--up you know to the _very_ top ofthe slate--that won't never come right. But I wasn't finking of them; itwas about poor mamma, having such ter-oubles. Francie and I do fink sucha lot about it. Bess does too, but she's so clever, she's sure she'll dosomething when she's big to get a lot of money for papa and mamma. ButI'm not clever, and Francie has got his sore leg; we can't fink ofanything we could do, unless we could find some fairies; but Francie'ssure there aren't any, and he's past ten, so he must know.'

  'You can do a great deal, dear Miss Lally,' I said. 'Don't get it intoyour head you can't. Rich or poor, there's nothing helps papas andmammas so much as their children being good, and loving, and obedient;and who knows but what Master Francis may be a very clever man some day,whether his poor leg gets better or not.'

  The little girl seemed pleased. It needed but a kind word or two tocheer her up at any time.

  'Oh! I am so glad Sharp has gone away and you comed,' she said.

  She was rather silent while I was dressing her, but when she had hadher bath, and I was putting on her shoes and stockings, she began again.

  'Nurse,' she asked, 'do stockings cost a lot of money to buy?'

  'Pretty well,' I said. 'At my home, mother always taught us to knit ourown. I could show you a pair I knitted before I was much bigger thanyou.'

  How the child's face did light up!

  'I've seen a little girl knitting who's not much bigger than me.Couldn't you show me how to make some stockings, and then mamma wouldn'thave to buy so many?'

  'Certainly I could; I have plenty of needles with me, and I daresay wecould get some wool,' I replied. 'I'll tell you what, Miss Lally; youmight knit some for Master Francis; that would be pleasing him as wellas your mamma. There's a village not far off, I suppose--you cangenerally buy wool at a village shop.'

  'There's our village across the park, and there's two shops. I'll askBess; she'll know if we could get wool. Oh! nurse, how pleased I am; Iwonder if we could go to-day. I've got some pennies and a shilling. I dolike to have nice things to think of. I wish Francie would be quick, Ido so want to tell him, or do you think I should keep it a surprise forhim?'

  And she danced about in her eager delight, which at last woke Miss Baby,who opened her eyes and stared about her, with a sleepy smile of contenton her plump rosy face. She was a picture of a child, and so easyminded. It is wonderful, to be sure, how children brought up like littlebirds in one nest yet differ from each other. I began to feel verysatisfied that I should never regret having come to Treluan.