“It seems very strange to me,” Delsie said severely,
not willing to relinquish a single point to her adversary. “I suppose I must get some new ones.”
“If you think it’s worth your while,” Mrs. Bristcombe
answered mysteriously, then arose and left.
Delsie sat pondering that statement. It sounded
strangely as though the woman didn’t think she’d be
staying long. When the front-door knocker sounded, she went herself to answer it. Unaccustomed to ser
vants, she did not find this so strange as a lady from
a well-ordered home would have done.
DeVigne was surprised to see her come to the door, and asked where Bristcombe was.
“Does Mr. Bristcombe work here as well?” Delsie
asked. “I haven’t a notion where he may be. I have not had the pleasure of meeting any of the servants except Mrs. Bristcombe, and I use the word ‘pleasure’ in its loosest sense, I assure you.”
“She should have assembled them for your inspection and orders,” he mentioned.
Delsie was intelligent enough to realize then that
she should have had this done, but how was she to
know? She had never had a single servant to command.
“Shall we go into the study? I have had a fire laid there, where I have been going over accounts with Mrs. Bristcombe. A harrowing pastime, I might add.”
They entered the study and took up the two uncomfortable chairs nearest the grate. “Things are in a muddle, are they?” he inquired. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Andrew was in no case to attend to business, and resented any interference. Have you managed to figure
out the extent of his debt?”
“If I have all the bills. They were handed to me in
a box, loose. No records of any sort kept. I make it
roughly a hundred pounds!” she said, wide-eyed at such a sum. “That is a whole year’s salary.”
“A teacher’s salary?” he asked, his lips unsteady.
“That is what I was paid at St. Mary’s, though I
believe Mr. Umpton made considerably more.”
“Of course he would. He is a man,” deVigne an
swered, unwisely.
“He was not hired as a
man,
but as a teacher, like
myself. Of course a man must support a family,” she added grudgingly. It had pestered her, this fact of Umpton’s making twice the salary she made, for doing half the work.
“You will be happy to hear you are better situated financially now,” deVigne informed her. “I have been to the solicitor, and wish to discuss money matters with you. Louise’s portion was twenty-five thousand pounds. The interest of that amounts to twelve-fifty yearly for
the running of the Cottage. It is not a large sum,
but
—
”
“Not large? It is a fortune!” Delsie contradicted
bluntly. “Of course, the expenses on such an establish
ment as this must be considerable. Is there a mortgage on the house?”
“No, the family built the house as a summer cottage for Louise and Andrew as a wedding gift. It is Roberta’s
now, in trust till her maturity. The expenses certainly
are
considerable. There are the servants to be paid and kept. Louise’s portion was never meant to carry the whole. Andrew was well fixed when they married, but
he ran through his capital with gambling and mis
management after his wife’s death. You know the story. The Bristcombes have been receiving two hundred annually, along with their room and board, and the governess is paid seventy-five—less than a teacher,” he pointed out with a mischievous smile. “When we are fortunate enough to have a governess, that is. The other servants—”
“Excuse me, milord, but I have been wondering
about that, I don’t see any other servants about. Mrs.
Bristcombe does everything—everything that gets
done, that is to say. She does the cooking and ordering of household supplies, and it was she who laid the fire. There doesn’t seem to be another soul in the house, except Miss Milne.”
“This is absurd,” deVigne said at once. “There is
Betsy Rose, the downstairs maid, and I’m sure there
was an upstairs maid as well. Naturally Andrew’s
valet, Samson, has left, but there was used to be a
footboy to help Bristcombe, though I think he left some while ago. The Bristcombes cannot be doing the whole
of the work themselves.”
Delsie ran a finger along the top of a table, and it
came away covered in dust. “I cannot believe there is
a Betsy Rose here any longer,” she said.
“We shall certainly have to see about that. I had
thought the total costs for servants would amount to about four-fifty, which would leave you eight hundred to run the place. Do you think you can do it? There is food and fuel, but much of both come from the Hall.
There will be general household costs and mainte
nance, along with stable expenses... No, it can’t be
done. You will do better to use my carriage, unless you
wish to use your own money to set up a tilbury or
landau.”
“My money?” she asked, startled, then looked away
in embarrassment. Where had he taken the idea she
had any money of her own? Surely he must have re
alized from her style of living that she had none. “I don’t have any money,” she said simply.
“You have five thousand pounds,” he told her. “I explained when we discussed your marrying Andrew that a small settlement would be made on you. It is not much, but it is your own, to do with as you wish. You would be wise to leave the capital intact and use only the interest, but that, of course, is quite your own affair.”
She was on her feet in revolt. “I cannot possibly take
such a sum! It would be—
immoral!”
Oh, but wouldn’t
it be lovely? Fifty years’ salary.
“It is business, Mrs. Grayshott. We agreed to the
settlement. It was inherent in our deal. In fact, it is
done. I told you I had been to the solicitor. Your actual salary, if you use only the interest, will not be so much
greater than your stipend at St. Mary’s, and your costs,
I fear, will be higher. Well, a carriage for one thing,
and you will want to buy some personal effects, very
likely.”
Casting an eye down at her black gown, which she
was so heartily tired of seeing, she saw the justice of
his words. “It seems a high price to pay, only to have
a guardian for Bobbie.”
“She is my niece, my only niece. There is no way I
would prefer to spend the money.”
“It still seems a great deal of money.”
“If it makes you feel better, Sir Harold and myself share the cost. We were both happy to have the matter
settled so quickly and so felicitously. The court costs
to acquire guardianship of her would have been great,
to say nothing of the inconvenience and unpleasantness
of such a course. Nor is it at all certain we would have
won. So, that matter is taken care of. Can you hold
house on fifteen hundred a year? I include your own
money in the figure.”
“Certainly I can. I must he a wretched manager if
I could not. There is a grocery bill I should like to settle at once. How do I arrange to pay the bills?”
“You may turn the matter over to me, or, if you prefer—as I suspect you do—I shall put the income
from Bobbie’s trust in your hands for you to draw on
from the bank.”
“That would be better.”
With a smile, he handed her a bankbook. “You see, it is not
always
necessary for me to consult you on
matters. I come to realize how you prefer to have things
done.”
She took the book and opened it. “Why, Mr. Gray
shott hasn’t spent a penny of the income the whole
year! The year nearly over too—December. What do you suppose he used for money all the while?”
“I have a sinking sensation we shall discover he has been living on tick. His credit would be good. I shall
put a notice in the papers, with your approval.”
“You have my approval,” she said with resignation. “And you needn’t feel it necessary to consult me on
every little detail.”
“How shall I know in what areas you consider me competent to exercise my own judgment?” he asked, in
a tone which she suspected was not entirely serious.
“I referred only to personal matters. On those I should like to be consulted.”
“Surely the handling of money is a highly personal affair.”
“In this case, it is Roberta’s money, for the most part,
that we are discussing.”
“You are now her legal guardian. The finances are entirely in your capable hands. They could not be in better ones, in my opinion, ma’am.”
“Thank you. I
do
mean to be careful of her monies.
And there is something other than money I should like
to discuss with you. I would like to be rid of the Brist
combes
.
”
“So soon?” he asked, startled.
“She is impertinent and slovenly and—and I don’t
like her,” she finished, less sure of her ground.
“You are the mistress here. If you wish to be rid of
her, then by all means turn her off.”
“What do
you
think?” she asked, for she could see very plainly that he disliked the suggestion, for some
reason.
“I think you judge on very little evidence, Mrs.
Grayshott. You have not been here above half a day. She does appear slovenly, and the house, of course, is
in wretched shape, but if she is indeed doing the whole
herself, it must be taken into consideration. The Brist
combes have been with Andrew for years, stood by him
all through his illness. Dismissal seems a poor reward
for such faithfulness. As to the impertinence, may I
inquire what form it took?”
“She called me ‘miss,’ for one thing.”
“A slip of the tongue, I should think. I have had the impression over the past few days that you dislike my
calling you Mrs. Grayshott. Is
it not so?”
Again she flinched at the name. “I
do
dislike it, but
it is my name now, and I must get used to it.”
“It is inevitable you will be addressed so by outsiders,
but within the family, I think we might spare you, as
you dislike it. I notice the others have circumvented
the use of it. Jane calls you by your given name, and Bobbie will certainly call you Mama ere long.”
“She already does!” she interjected happily.
“I am
so
glad! I have seen with pleasure her growing
admiration for you, and knew it must come to ‘Mama
’
within the week. ‘Mama’ will hardly do for myself, how
ever. Can we not hit on something less galling than
Mrs. Grayshott?”
“It will not do to call me Miss Sommers,” she pointed
out, with a rising curiosity as to what he had in mind.
She had a strange notion he meant to call her “Delsie,” and would not have objected to being asked to address
him as “Max” either.
“No, that was not the alternative I had in mind.
Shall we make do with the catch-all word
cousin?
I call many of my connections who are not actually cousins
by the term.”
“I have no objection,” she allowed, feeling unac
countably let down. To have thought a week ago
deVigne would be calling her “cousin” would have been
incredible.
“While we are about renaming ourselves, do you think you might dispense with the ‘milord’? My name
is Maxwell. The family call me Max, or just deVigne,
without the ‘Lord.’
”
She nodded, and decided on the spot that as he had not called her Delsie, he would remain deVigne till hell
froze over.
“Another item settled, cousin, to our mutual satis
faction, or almost. Shall we drink to it? In this house above all others, I shouldn’t think there would be any
scarcity of wine.”
She found a decanter on the sideboard in the dining room and brought it and two glasses into the study.
DeVigne’s eyes grew at the size of the shot she poured out, but he said only, “Thank you,” and took a careful
sip, while Delsie took a longer one and promptly fell into a spasm of coughing.
“What is it?” she gasped, when she recovered her
speech.
“It is brandy, and very fine stuff too. French. Smug
gled, of course. Trust Andrew. It is to be sipped, by the way, not tossed off like lemonade. If I may make a
suggestion.”
She glared at this repetitious poking fun of her desire
to have things in her own hands. She set the brandy
aside. “We were speaking of firing Mrs. Bristcombe,”
she said in a businesslike way. “You think I ought to
wait and see if she improves?”
“I would do so. It sets people’s backs up needlessly
to fire servants. We are desirous just now of not drawing
any unfavorable attention to ourselves. It is up to you, however.”
She regretted very much her lack of experience in
such matters. The woman seemed impossible to her,
but perhaps all servants were bothersome. The gentry
did seem to be forever complaining of their servants.
“I’ll wait a little,” she decided, “but I suspect that as
well as being slovenly and impertinent, she is also dis
honest. How many sheets did your sister have when
she married?”