CHAPTER XXV

MISS BALDWIN LOOKS ON

To Miss Baldwin, watching the progress of that story in real life which she found even more absorbing than her favourite fiction, it seemed that complicating influences were coming into play, as summer pa.s.sed into autumn and autumn into winter. The story was made the more interesting, but that happy ending which she rigidly exacted from all stories that should earn her approbation, became increasingly obscured to her vision.

In a written story, you know--if you dealt with fiction of the sort that you could trust--that the happy ending would come, and previous troubles to be pa.s.sed through only threw it into greater relief when it did come.

But in a story of real life you could not be so sure. In real life things sometimes went wrong and remained wrong, which was one reason for turning for relief to the right sort of fiction.

Fred Comfrey, upon whose suit, it will be remembered, Miss Baldwin was inclined to look with favour, went away, rather suddenly. Watching Pamela with sharp but sympathetic eyes, she questioned whether "something" hadn't happened. There was some talk about Fred at breakfast and luncheon, which were Miss Baldwin's opportunities for getting into touch with family views. He was taking up a career in which he had already attained some success; and a still greater measure of success was expected of him now that he was ready to throw himself into it again. Colonel Eldridge seemed to believe in him, and to like him. Miss Baldwin could not interpret anything he said as a sign that he had any suspicion of Fred's hopes of winning Pamela. His references to the young man were hardly to be labelled as patronizing, but there was always a sense of difference in them; or so it seemed to Miss Baldwin, who was alive to such shades. She did not herself attach much social value to the Comfreys. The Vicar was the Vicar, ex-officio on an equality with her employers, and so treated by them, but he was obviously of a different clay from the Vicar of Blagrove, for instance, who with his family were of the intimates among the country neighbours. Mrs. Comfrey seemed hardly to consider herself, and certainly Miss Baldwin didn't consider her, on an equality with Mrs. Eldridge. If Fred were to be viewed only in the light of his origin, it would not be surprising that the idea of his aspiring to Pamela had not yet so much as entered the head of Pamela's father.

But love takes small heed of such reckonings; otherwise, what would have become of half the stories that Miss Baldwin so much enjoyed? The strong devoted young man who was to fight his arduous way to an eminence which he might fitly invite the lady of his choice to share with him, would be greatly encouraged in his ascent if that lady's sympathies were with him. And they might be; for she would see in him from the beginning something of what he had it in him to become.

Were Pamela's sympathies with Fred in his coming endeavours? Certainly they were. She agreed with everything that was said about the merit shown by a man with no initial advantages in making his way in the world by his own efforts and character. But there was no least little sign of a personal interest in the result. If there had been, Miss Baldwin could hardly have missed it. There seemed to be, instead, a tendency to close the subject, whenever it was opened, with some general or even plat.i.tudinous observation which, with other signs, persuaded Miss Baldwin that Pamela had acquired some distaste for Fred Comfrey. But she had been markedly friendly to him right up till the time he went away; so what could the reason be but that he had "said something to her?"

Out of her expert knowledge of such subjects, Miss Baldwin had no difficulty in conjecturing what that "something" had been, or in interpreting the slight indications afforded by Pamela as proof of what she had always supposed. Pamela had given Fred her friendship, but never in the smallest degree her love, and the premature declaration of his love for her had come as an unpleasant shock to her.

The effect of these conclusions upon Miss Baldwin herself was that from the moment she formed them her sympathies began to depart from Fred.

This is easily explicable. Up until now he had been selected by her as the suitor towards whose success the story was directing itself. One allowed oneself those castings forward in the early stages of a story.

But, when indications began to be dropped that a particular suitor was not intended for the prize, one put oneself upon the side of whoever else seemed likely to win it, thus preparing for full partic.i.p.ation in the author's ultimate design. She had piled upon Fred virtues that were not too apparent as long as there seemed reasonable hope of his success; but now that Pamela, if she read her aright, had rejected the idea of him and his virtues, they seemed much less to her. He was not, unless Pamela chose to reckon him so, in any way to be considered her equal. He might, indeed, if the story should so run, quite adequately play some sort of villain's part, such as-- But it was too early to cast forward in that direction. The story was still progressing in its main lines, with another suitor to be observed, and an evident awareness on the part of all the characters who came within her view of what was going on.

She had her opportunity with the rest of taking occasion to watch the trend of events, for Lady Crowborough, coming over to Hayslope on a day of early September to announce herself as the giver of an elaborate picnic entertainment, had graciously included Miss Baldwin, who happened to come within range of her vision, in the general invitation. Miss Baldwin hardly supposed that she would enjoy herself, when she accepted it; but she did, and not only because of the opportunities it gave her for observation. The whole affair was like a scene in a story--a story of high life--and her description of it, in letters to relatives were full, and within due limits enthusiastic.

The numerous guests, drawn from the houses large and small within a fairly wide radius, a.s.sembled at the Castle at about eleven o'clock of a golden morning. They came mostly in cars of their own, but some driving, some riding bicycles, and a few on horseback. The horses seemed to give the expedition something of the flavour of a past time, though there were hardly enough of them to deserve the style of cavalcade, such as must often have set out from Persh.o.r.e Castle in days not long gone by. Pamela rode on a horse provided for her from the Persh.o.r.e stables, and so did young Lord Horsham. So did a niece of Lady Crowborough's staying in the house, who was the life and soul of the party, and seemed to be responsible for many of the arrangements. She had taken particular notice of Miss Baldwin herself, and arranged for her to drive in a carriage with an extremely nice clergyman and his wife and invalid daughter, who were spending their holidays at a farmhouse near.

There were refreshments provided at the Castle before the start was made. Miss Baldwin described the Castle, as it had presented itself to her--one of the stately homes of England, of which she had been promised a more extended exploration at a future date. The n.o.ble owners had also struck her favourably, as true representatives of the aristocracy of our favoured land--stately, too, especially the Countess, but of the most courteous manner, and without a touch of condescension.

The scene of the picnic was a tract of primeval forest some ten miles away. There were ancient gnarled trees of immense girth, with little secret lawns, and stretches of deep bracken; a purling stream, and an outcrop of rugged rocks, where the picnic feast was held. After having feasted and strolled, the party returned to the Castle, and then broke up, at a comparatively early hour. A simple entertainment, but quite delightful experience, with most of the best-known people in that part of the County attending and all expressing themselves as having obtained the acme of enjoyment from it.

Miss Baldwin's letter did not disclose what seemed to her to have been the inspiration and intention of this highly appreciated entertainment.

It was so much in matter of her own discovery that she hardly dared to lay stress on it, even in her own imaginings. And yet she thought she could not be mistaken. There was a round dozen of young girls there, some of them of more obvious social importance than Pamela; but the honours were hers. She was not mistaken there, for the nice clergyman's wife asked her who Pamela was, and seemed surprised to hear that there was no t.i.tle attached to her, as there was to some of the others. And the nice clergyman's invalid daughter asked her pointblank whether Pamela was engaged to young Lord Horsham. Both Lord and Lady Crowborough appeared to treat her as if she were; but, as Miss Baldwin knew that she was not, this could only mean that they wanted her to be. Nor was it too much to suppose that, by treating her almost as the most honoured guest, they were willing that all these country neighbours whom they had gathered together should know that they wanted her to be.

And yet nothing came of it. The few days, exciting to Miss Baldwin because of what she was expecting, which followed the picnic brought no announcement. Lord Horsham came over to the Hall the very next day, but nothing came of that, as might so confidently have been expected. He came over several times more before he went back to Oxford in October.

He was the admitted friend of the family; there was no young person who was there more often, and no young man of those who came to the house who could be considered in the light of a rival, now that Fred Comfrey was off the scene. It seemed to Miss Baldwin that there was an air of expectation abroad; that both Colonel and Mrs. Eldridge were waiting for something. And the conviction grew upon her that there was a hitch somewhere.

Where was it? There was no doubt about the young man's admiration for Pamela. He was the best of friends with Judith, and very nice to the children, as was natural, but it was Pamela who drew him. Her att.i.tude towards him was frank and kind. Oh, she did like him, and was bright and gay when he was there, though not always so at other times. Could it be that she was, after all, casting thoughts back to that other? By this time Miss Baldwin was inclined to resent such an idea. Fred had taken his place in her scheme as the rejected suitor, and it now seemed to her that Pamela had never treated Fred with the same kind of friendliness as she treated Horsham. Couldn't she make up her mind about him? Or was there something else going on that delayed the wished-for climax?

It came gradually to Miss Baldwin, as the months pa.s.sed by, that there was a good deal going on at Hayslope of which she had not the key.

Life was duller there, and sadder, than she had known it at any time during the two years she had been there, even during the last months of the war, when Colonel Eldridge had been mostly away, and the shadow of Hugo's death still lay over them. But during that first winter, when things were beginning to settle down, there had been a good deal going on that had interested Miss Baldwin in her first experience of the life of a country house. Very little of it went on now.

What had become of all the visiting that seemed to play such a large part in the lives of such people as the Eldridge's? Colonel and Mrs.

Eldridge never slept away from Hayslope during that autumn and early winter. Pamela went away twice, and Judith once. Pamela had a girl friend to stay with her for a week or so, and an aunt of Mrs.

Eldridge's, who had been wont to spend the month of October at Hayslope for years past, came with her maid, but went back to Brighton, where she lived, after a week. It was then that Miss Baldwin first realized how everything was being cut down, more and more closely. The old lady was reported to have said that she didn't get enough to eat, which was of course ridiculous; what she didn't get was the elaborate provision that had struck Miss Baldwin herself when she had first come to Hayslope Hall. Nor did she get the service, except what her own pampered grumbling maid gave her. n.o.body else came to the Hall, where there had been a constant succession of guests. There were only enough servants now to do the work of the house for the normal family life, which was also being reduced all the time, something here always being cut off or something there. The drawing-room was shut up, the billiard-room was never used. Mrs. Eldridge gave up her room and took to the morning-room, which all the family inhabited. More wood than coal was to be burnt in the schoolroom, and everywhere else. The outdoor staff was cut down to one man and a boy for the garden, and Timbs for stable and garage; but the cars were little used now. The light supper which had taken the place of dinner during the summer was continued, except for the week during which the old woman from Brighton was there.

There was never any discussion of these and other economies, at least before Miss Baldwin, and there was no grumbling at them. Colonel Eldridge was far more silent than she had ever known him, and she thought he was ageing, and seemed now, when she saw him sometimes from the schoolroom window walking alone, always to have his eyes on the ground, and to stoop slightly, who had been so upright and active. Mrs.

Eldridge was just the same, always unruffled, always well-dressed, though seldom in the beautiful clothes Miss Baldwin had been wont to admire. Pamela and Judith had taken to doing things that had been done before by servants, mostly out of doors. They looked after the poultry entirely, making a pastime of it to all appearance. And they had taken to making many of their own clothes; Mrs. Eldridge's maid, who had also looked after them, was much occupied in housework. No word ever fell from either of them to show that they were affected by the change in their circ.u.mstances, which by now had come to be a complete change from the way of life lived at Hayslope during that first winter after the war. Pamela was not nearly so bright as she had been; there was _something_ the matter with her, though it was not, apparently, discontent with home conditions. Judith was much the same as she had always been, sometimes silent, sometimes uproarious; half a child, half a woman; but Judith had not known the life that Pamela had known, after she was grown-up. Judith's life was altered chiefly by her emanc.i.p.ation from the schoolroom. Her home and what went on in it was enough for her, as it was for the children.

The outstanding difference at Hayslope, greater even than the changes at the Hall, which, after all, did not affect the core of family life, was the Grange unoccupied. There it stood, a big, rich house, from which had radiated sociability and close intimacy, with all its rooms shut up, its chimneys cold, its windows shuttered. There were a man and his wife to caretake, and men still at work outside--more than there were now at the Hall, though their only task was to keep things just alive for future occupancy. It made a blank, even to Miss Baldwin and the children, who sometimes went through the gardens in their walks, and lamented its desolation, as remarkable by contrast as if it had been falling into complete disuse. Presently there seemed to grow up about its forsaken state something significant of a change more unhappy than was shown by a house from which life had only been removed for a time. What did it stand for in the story that Miss Baldwin was tracing out for herself from all the happenings around her?

Neither Lord Eldridge nor Lady Eldridge, nor Norman, had come back since they had left Hayslope at the end of August. n.o.body from the Hall had visited them, either in London or at the other house they had taken in the country.

Miss Baldwin was not in the way of picking up rumours at Hayslope. She was not in close enough contact with the family in which she lived to get much from them, and she was in no closer contact with servants or with people outside. But she could not help knowing that there had been something of a split; and indeed that was now taken for granted. Alice and Isabelle knew it. "Father and Uncle William aren't very good friends now. I think Uncle William takes too much on himself now he is a Lord, and father doesn't quite like it. But they'll be friends again when Uncle William comes back to Hayslope." Isabelle had said that, as they were going through the Grange garden. Some of it she had been told, some of it she had probably made up for herself, for Alice had contradicted her. "I don't think it's anything to do with his being a lord. Auntie Eleanor is a Lady, and she's just the same; and so is Norman."

But were they just the same? It looked as if the estrangement had affected both families by this time, though on the surface they maintained relations. Colonel Eldridge corresponded with his brother, for he sometimes mentioned, in Miss Baldwin's presence, that he had heard from him. Pamela, if no one else, had been asked to stay at Eylsham. Why hadn't she gone? That had never been disclosed. Norman wrote to her sometimes, from Cambridge, and she to him.

What was the quarrel about? Money, thought Miss Baldwin, having come to this conclusion partly because in fiction it was generally money that brothers who had reached middle age quarrelled about, if they quarrelled at all, partly because of the now patent contrast between the wealth that exuded from Lord Eldridge and the lack of it that was increasingly in evidence at the Hall. She could find no simple explanation of why this state of things should have brought about a quarrel, but its effects were now remarkable enough. The younger brother was a rich man, and a lord, the elder, in spite of his large house and his estates, was seen to be a poor one. Surely the younger ought to have come to the a.s.sistance of the elder before this! He was not only not doing that; he was holding off from him. Dark work, somewhere!

Early in December Fred Comfrey paid a visit to Hayslope, and Miss Baldwin's interest returned to Pamela and her story, which had fallen into the second place of late, because of what was happening otherwise.

It seemed to her that Pamela's att.i.tude towards him was entirely different from what it had been. She was friendly, but seemed on the alert not to be left alone with him. His dejection was plain to be seen.

Colonel Eldridge seemed glad to see him; otherwise he would probably not have been asked to the house more than once, during the two days of his visit. He came on Sat.u.r.day morning and stayed to lunch; and he came again to lunch on Sunday and stayed most of the afternoon. But Pamela had bicycled over after church to a house a few miles off, and did not return until he had gone.

At supper on Sunday evening the veil was lifted for a moment from what had been puzzling Miss Baldwin; but what was revealed only puzzled her more.

Colonel Eldridge talked about Fred, and said: "He has been doing business with William--seen quite a lot of him."

Pamela looked up surprised. "He never told me that," she said.

That was all. The veil was dropped again immediately. Lord Eldridge was mentioned sometimes before Miss Baldwin, perhaps to keep up appearances; but she was not to hear anything about him that mattered. All that she gathered from this was that Colonel Eldridge saw nothing to object to in a business connection between Lord Eldridge and Fred Comfrey, and that Pamela was surprised, and apparently displeased at it. Or perhaps her displeasure was only at Fred's not having told her. But she hadn't given him much opportunity of telling her anything. It was all very difficult; but what seemed to be plain was that Fred Comfrey could now be ruled out as a suitor, though he might not yet consider himself so.

This was quite what Miss Baldwin wished by this time, and her satisfaction was increased when Lord Horsham soon afterwards reappeared on the scene. He was received in a very different way. It really seemed at last as if something were going to happen. Miss Baldwin had come to hold a high opinion of Lord Horsham, as a young man of sober, steady habits who would make an excellent husband even for so fine a flower of girlhood as Pamela, and this altogether apart from the rich gilding of his t.i.tle and inheritance. But he had not, previously, presented himself to her as one whose coming might be expected to enliven a whole household. That, however, was the effect of his frequent visits during the early part of his Christmas vacation. And what could Colonel and Mrs. Eldridge's lively welcome of him mean but that they also thought something might be about to happen? What could Pamela's lighter spirits mean but that she was getting ready for something to happen? Judith and the children might not yet have had their eyes opened to the possibilities of the happening, but they all three made much of Lord Horsham. That might partly be accounted for by the rarity of such visits as his in these days; but on his side there seemed to be a conscious desire to stand well with them, and a success in the endeavour which was agreeable to watch. If Pamela did marry him, her family might be expected to share some of the tangible fruits of the alliance. They could hardly be said to have gone down in the world--that dreadful phrase which sometimes suggested itself to Miss Baldwin--if the eldest son of an Earl, who lived in an ancient Castle, took his bride from their house.

Miss Baldwin went home for three weeks' holiday at Christmas, hoping that on her return a new chapter in the romance would be ready for her perusal. It had reached the point at which developments of some sort could not long be delayed.

CHAPTER XXVI

BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Christmas had always been a great family occasion at Hayslope. For years before the William Eldridges had come to live at the Grange they had spent their Christmases at the Hall, and there had sometimes been other relations there. This year an indeterminate spinster cousin of Mrs.

Eldridge's was coming, but no other guests. Lord Eldridge would be entertaining a party at Eylsham Hall, duly announced in the press.

It was this announcement that seemed to Pamela to complete and establish the breach between the two families. "Why is it?" she asked her mother.

"I thought that father and Uncle William were more or less friends again now. They write to each other. Uncle William sent his love to us in a letter he wrote the other day."

"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Eldridge, with a sigh. "But there it begins and ends. Father would have been quite willing to make it up any time during the last few months; but Uncle William doesn't seem to want to. He's got quite away from us, you see. He's in the big world, and we're not. I suppose he doesn't think about us any more."

"But Auntie Eleanor! She writes to you, mother."

"Oh, yes," she said again. "_We_'ve never quarrelled."

"But won't it _ever_ end, mother? Just look at the difference--what happy Christmases we used to spend all together! And now there's no idea of our being together at all. Didn't you ask them to come here for Christmas?"

"Well, I didn't tell father, but I wrote to Auntie Eleanor and asked her if they would come if we did ask them. I thought it might bring us all together again. But of course it would have been worse if we had asked them and they had refused. She wrote very nicely, as she always does; but William had already made up his party, or some of it. I dare say what happened was that he found he could get somebody that he particularly wanted then, and asked the rest to meet him--or her, or them. I don't know. When people once begin to chase other people, for their names or their positions or whatever it is that attracts them, it--well, it becomes a habit. Other sociabilities have to give way to it."

This was rather painful to Pamela. "But Auntie Eleanor isn't like that, mother dear."