i 69ef9ff463a71164 (7 page)

"Well?"

"I was coming up the drive, walking on the verge. I heard part of the persuasion, and then I heard him leading off to himself." She fell into an imitation of Ben's voice. "Scare the pants off 'em down there" he was meaning the village "but he's not going to scare 'em off me. No, by damn!" "Tut! tut! You mustn't repeat words like that....

But he said that, did he?" Donald disengaged himself, and she looked at him in some surprise as he added, "Well, we'll see."

If he hadn't made the last statement she would have imagined that he was only amused, but now she could see that he was slightly annoyed.

But as for him scaring any of his parishioners, it was, when she came to think of it, ridiculous, for his attitude towards them, she considered, was over-conciliatory, except when he was in the pulpit.

When there, there was nothing conciliatory about him. At times, if she had dared criticise his sermons, she would have said in the idiom of her father, "That was hot and heavy this morning." But not for the world would she dream of criticising anything he might do with regards to his work. His business was putting over God, and all his energies were spent in that direction. Unbidden there came to her mind the picture of herself kicking her legs down the bed before turning on to her stomach.

The picture was not new, and because in some way it was a reflection on Donald she chided herself vigorously once again on its appearance.

She was the wife of a vicar, she mustn't forget, and parsons were different, there were many things as the wife of a vicar she would have to make herself not only get used to but like. The latest was praying together, privately at night at the bedside.

It was around about the time of Aggie's visit that she began to look towards the nights with a slight dread, to see them as a time of conflict, and there was no-one she told herself to blame for this but herself. Certainly not Donald, Donald was wonderful. It was she who was at fault. The truth of the matter was that at rock bottom she wasn't good, there was a baseness in her.

burning, craving, unsatisfied, restless baseness. Oh, she knew herself and she must try, try hard to conquer this unworthy feeling.

There were times also when she wished she had some one to talk to .

her mother or someone. She did not bring Aunt Aggie into the category of someone, she could never now talk to Aunt Aggie about herself at least not when it related to her marriage. Aunt Aggie must be made to realise how happy she was with Donald and come to like him. Yet she wished there was someone. But had there been, could she ever have put into words what was troubling her? No. No. Never. Everything was ready except flowers for the table, and she knew that these would have to be coaxed out of Ben. But that wouldn't be difficult, she had a way with Ben. She liked him and, strangely, she felt more at home with him than with anyone else in the village, but she was wise enough to keep this fact to herself. She ran now through the hall, out into the garden, and round the side of the house and just remembered to pull herself to a walk before she reached the greenhouse. This running everywhere was something that Donald had checked her for. But she never seemed to be able to get to places quickly enough, she had to run.

"Hello, Ben."

"Mornin', ma'am."

"I'm on the scrounge, Ben, for something for the table."

And her vocabulary would, definitely, she knew, have brought a protest from Donald had he heard her. One was careful how one spoke both to the folks . and the others. Jokes were for the privacy of one's family, as also was slang . ifit must be used. But this manner of speaking was an attitude that Ben knew and understood. She had learned from the little he had said about his previous mistress, and the great deal Mrs. Blenkinsop had told her, that there had been no starchiness of man and employer between them.

Looking at this wonderful garden she could understand that it could never have come into creation without sympathetic cooperation. Her attitude might not be similar to that used by Miss Tupping, but it was one that Ben in his surly way appreciated, and she was aware of this.

"Well now, what have we got?" He considered a moment.

"A couple of roses suit you?"

"Roses? Oh, Ben, marvelous."

There was not more than half a dozen late roses left, and when lovingly he cut four of them, trimmed the stalks, and handed them to her she said with genuine feeling, "Oh, that's kind of you, Ben." It was as if the garden was his and he was bestowing a gift upon her.

"That's all right, ma'am."

"Thanks, Ben." She turned from him, forgetting not to run, and she took the path round the vegetable garden towards the back door. She was still running when she burst into the kitchen crying, "Look, Mrs.

B." what I've scrounged. " Her voice trailed away and the hand holding out the roses moved slowly downwards as she looked at the young man standing near the dresser. He was in rough working clothes and had his cap in his hand, and after looking at her for a moment he said, " Good morning. "

"This is Andrew Maclntyre, ma'am; he's come with a message for the vicar. I've just told him he's out."

She laid the roses on the table, then asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

"It's from Mr. Toole. He says to tell the vicar that there's a mount for him for Thursday's meet if he cares for it."

"Oh." She sounded a little surprised.

"He usually phones."

"He tried twice this morning but the line was engaged, and as I was passing this way ... She was looking at him, waiting for him to finish, and when he didn't go on she said, " Thanks. " Then again, " Thanks, I'll tell him. "

He nodded his head once towards her, then, turning and looking at Mrs.

Blenkinsop, he said briefly, "Good morning."

From the kitchen window Grace watched the tall, rather gangling figure cross the courtyard before she asked, "Is he in our parish, Mrs. B?"

"Lord alive, I should say so. But I saw by your face, ma'am, that you hadn't come across him afore. And that's nothing unusual, he scarcely comes down to the street unless he has to. He's from Peak Fell, in the cottage up there."

"As far away as that. That's likely why I've never seen him in church."

"Huh! You're not likely to see any of the Maclntyres in church, ma'am.

If they're anything they're at the opposite pole from the Church of England. They're Scots and a close family. All Scots are dour, don't you think, ma'am? "

"I haven't met many, Mrs. B."

"Well, from my experience I'd say they are. The Maclntyres have been in the village around fifteen years quite a while it is, fifteen years but nobody knows much more about them than on the day they came except that she was a teacher of sorts and he was crippled with arthritis ...

laziness I would say, for he can get around on his sticks when he likes. He hasn't done a bat to my knowledge in all the years he's been here except carve little animals and such which he sells now and then.

It's yon Andrew they live by, and if you ask me Mrs. Blenkinsop's voice stopped abruptly, then she added, " The vicar, ma'am, I've just caught sight of his tails flying. "

"Oh, is it?" Grace stopped herself from bounding to wards the door, and, picking up the roses from the table, she said, "I'll do these in the cloakroom, they'll be out of your way there."

But the green baize door of the kitchen had hardly swung to behind her when she ran across the hall and into the study.

"Hello, darling." She flung her arms around his neck, the roses still in her hand, and as they waved about the crown of his head she cried excitedly, "See what I got out of Ben, four of his best; I've got him eating out of my hand."

He closed his eyes and refused to look at her as he said with mock severity, "Conceit and pride ill becomes a vicar's wife."

"Oh, Donald." She dropped her head on to his shoulder and began to giggle, then after a moment she raised it quickly, when, with more than a touch of censure, he commented, "It's a pity they've been cut.

I think they would have looked better and remained alive longer if they had been left in their natural setting. There are so few now and it was so nice to see them in the garden at this time of the year. "

She loosened her hands from behind his head, then, after looking at him for a moment, her gaze dropped and she said softly, "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right, Donald, it was very silly of me to ask him for them. I rather pestered him. I'm sorry."

That the roses had been cut had vexed Donald, but his vexation would only be aggravated if he knew that Ben had done the cutting without any pressure. She had been stupid to brag about him eating out of her hand. So again she repeated, "I'm sorry."

"Well, they're cut now."

"Don't be vexed."

"I'm not."

"Kiss me."

He kissed her and then turned away, and she exclaimed with nervous, false jocularity, "I've got a present for a good boy." She paused before delivering it.

"There's an invitation from Mr. Toole; he says there's a mount for you at the meet on Thursday."

His head came round and his eyes brightened with pleasure.

"He called?"

"No, he had phoned twice this morning and couldn't get through so he sent one of his men with themes sage, an Andrew Maclntyre. Have you met any of the Maclntyres? I never knew they existed, and I thought I had met everybody from miles around."

"Oh, the Maclntyres." Donald's neck stretched out of his collar and the smile left his eyes.

"Yes, I've met the Maclntyres. Dyed in the wool bigots."

"You've visited them then?"

"Yes, shortly after I came here." He paused, and when he continued his voice had a rasping sound.

"When you get an ignorant bigoted Scot there's nothing much more can be added to the description."

"But the young man seemed quite nice." Her comment sounded tentative.

"Oh yes, I should say he's all right, at least on the surface, for he's bound to have his father in him somewhere. , But I suppose there must be a deal of good in him, for'll understand that Toole has taken a great interest in him | since he was a boy, and he's no fool where men are concerned. At one time he wanted to send him to an ; agricultural college, but the father would have none of; it. Of course his point of view is understandable: the boy is their only means of support. "

"Is the father really ill?"

"Not so ill that he couldn't be better if he tried, and that's Doctor Cooper's version too."

"What a pity I mean that the boy couldn't have gone to college."

"Yes, it was. But then if Mr. Toole hasn't been allowed to help him, the daughter is going to do her best." This last was accompanied by a pursing of the lips and Grace cried delightedly, "You mean Adelaide .

she's ... " Yes, head over heels I should say, and if her father allows it, and it's probable, for he likes the young fellow, yon Andrew Maclntyre will fall very firmly on his two big feet. "

"Oh, I hope it comes off. I like Adelaide ... she seems full of life."

"It is whispered that she has a temper."

"And what is wrong with that, Mr. Donald Rouse?" Donald had recovered from his slight irritation over Ben and she could tease him.

"Everything."

"Are you serious?" Grace dropped her head to one side.

"Yes, I am serious, Mrs. Rouse. I think a woman with a temper is something to be abhorred. Just think what it leads to, temper of any kind, but in a woman ... a bad-tempered woman...."

"Oh, Donald," she broke in on him, "I must see to the table, and these flowers, but do come along, darling, and tell me all you know about bad-tempered women." She made a grab at his hand and turned to pull him after her, but found herself jerked back to him.

"You're not taking me seriously."

"No, Donald dear, I am not."

"Do I suspect you're laughing at me?"

"I wouldn't dare laugh at you, sir." Her face was straight but her eyes were shining, and she was striving not to giggle. She was happy inside, she loved Donald in these playful exchanges. The nights were forgotten. She could tell herself she adored him.

"You must not laugh at me, I am a very nervous man at the moment. In a short time I am to eat before your aunt."

Her head went back and her laugh rang out, "Eat before your aunt. Oh, that does sound funny, Donald.... This is the house of my aunt ... ce ci est la mais on de ma tante."

As her laugh soared again his hand went up quickly to silence her on the sound of the front-door bell ringing, then he punched the air and hissed, "Miss Shawcross. You see what you've done, almost made me forget. Look, come this way." He drew her quickly across the room and through the trench windows, along the terrace and through a similar window into the drawing-room, and there hastily closing the window behind him, he chided her with raised finger.

"I meant to get this explained before she came. It's about the play."

"The play?"

"Yes; you see, what I hadn't fully understood before was that she had always played the piano for the children, not just last Christmas, and when ... " But it was all arranged that I should play, I chose the; music and | "Yes, yes, I know, my dear, and her playing is atrocious,;

we all know that, but it would hurt her so much if this littles duty were to be taken away from her. I've felt for days that; there was something wrong, and when she approached me this morning I discovered . well, that was it . the 3 play. I told her that of course you hadn't understood,!

and if she would call up during her dinner hour you would let her have the music, she's quite willing to work to your choice. Oh, my dear, don't look so disappointed. "

"But I wanted to play for the children, Donald, I've been looking forward to it."

A flatness had come upon her day. Playing for the children at the Christmas concert and Nativity play was to constitute her first real social engagement as the vicar's wife and she had given to it quite a lot of thought. It was actually Donald himself who had suggested she should do this. There were not more than fifteen children from the scattered community who attended Sunday school and they offered material that had no artistic claim, but this had in no way deterred her in fact it had set her a challenge. The Christmas concert and Nativity play was going to be the best ever heard or seen in the village. She would show them that although she was very young to be the parson's wife she was capable, very capable.