The Fortunes of Springfield (5 page)

“You go,” said Patricia, “and I will follow. I just want to admire one or two of these Wedgwood pieces.” She wanted to be alone to look at the room, to see what could really be done with it. She had laughed with her mother about cherishing romantic dreams of David in her girlhood, but her first sight of David since his return, riding a big grey along the country lane, had brought back those romantic dreams with greater intensity. The attractive boy of eighteen had developed into a handsome, virile man of thirty-three, mature, intense, experienced. Patricia was prepared to believe that she had reached the age of twenty-eight unmarried—and not for lack of opportunity to get married—on David’s account
.

She supposed she must go back to the kitchen for her tea. And they must soon be going, for Caroline must have things to do: but she must find David first and persuade him to come to dinner with her family. She went into the hall, at the moment that David opened the front door and also
stepped into it. He did not
immedia
tely
recognize her, and was surprised to see a stranger step from his dining-room; but when she smiled and addressed him by name, he smiled in return.

She had at once established a first-name basis. So he replied in kind, calling her Patricia.

“Are you coming in for tea?” she asked.

“No. I came in for some papers. I have a man waiting for me.”

“What a pity! You are always too busy, David. Report has it that you are overdoing it—for everybody is interested in you, of course. Why don’t you come and have dinner with us one evening? Mother came over to invite you.”

He was about to refuse, on the plea of business, but he looked at her, trim and attractive in her green dress and beaver coat, with her eyes shining at him, and he
changed his mind.

“Well, I do feel it is about time I came up for air,’ he admitted.

“Lovely. We are both so pleased. When will you come? Will tomorrow suit you?”

“Yes, I think so. Now, Patricia, if you would excuse
me...”

“Of course. I’ll say good-bye then, and we’ll expect you at seven-thirty tomorrow.” She held out her hand, and he took it briefly in his own. Then she went back to the kitchen, but she did not take any further interest in the conversation which her mother and Caroline were obviously enjoying, for her own thoughts, running riot in her mind, were so much more interesting.

They left before Wendy and Terence returned from school, and Mrs. Close left behind an invitation for Caroline to take all three children to her house for tea. She and Caroline had agreed that it would be good for them to go into other people’s houses and see how
things were properly done. “But of course,” Mrs. Close had added, “we could never have had them with that disagreeable Miss Church.”

Caroline felt the brighter and happier for their visit
.
She realized that she rarely now had opportunities for conversation. Mrs. Davis was talkative, but that was not quite what Caroline wanted; and Mr. Springfield was always very busy with the affairs of the farm, and although he remembered to ask her from time to time how she was getting on, they really exchanged only the small talk of politeness. At Mrs. Webster’s house she had been taken very much into the old lady’s confidence in recent years; Mrs. Webster’s interests had been shared with Caroline and made her own; and Mrs. Webster had been a woman of cultivation and wide interests. Only now did Caroline realize what cause she had to be grateful to her; only now did she miss the discussions and conversations they had shared.

But it seemed that she was not to miss them for long, for a couple of days after the visit of Patricia and Mrs. Close, Caroline had another visitor. Duncan Wescott appeared in her kitchen in the middle of the morning, looking for David.

Mrs. Davis finished her coffee and went
o
ff to the drawing-room where she
w
as busy washing the paintwork. Caroline offered Duncan Wescott some coffee, and he promptly sat down on one of the kitchen chairs to avail
hims
elf
of her offer. Caroline smiled welcomingly at
him.
He had not been a frequent visitor to the Webster house, as Mrs. Close had been, but he had
occasionally
been to dinner there, or one of the buffet suppers, and was one of the people Mrs. Webster liked to see. There was something so friendly and reassuring about his big, stalwart frame, the twinkle in his grey eyes, the high colour that out-of-door living gave him, and his willingness, known to most of the neighbourhood, to help lame dogs over stiles.

“Well,” he asked her, “how are you settling down?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Getting on well with the children?”

“As well as they will let me. Wendy has come over to my side,
I
think.
She is a very sweet child, and she has, fortunately, a good influence over Babs. Terence tries to lead her astray, but usually she is very good. Terence is holding out firmly; he hasn’t liked any of the other people who have had to look after him, and he is determined not to like me.”

“Shows what bad taste he has, but he’ll come round.”

“I like to
think
so, but he’s a problem. Still, he’s my problem—I mustn’t bother you with him
...
Would you like me to find Mr. Springfield for you?”

“No, I’ll go and find him. He was talking to me about young heifers and I know the man who can help him. He can’t sell his present old stuff too soon—none of it any good. Mr. Gerald Springfield thought he knew a lot about cattle, but oh my! some of the stuff he bought.”

“Let me give you another cup of coffee.”

“No, I must be going. You don’t know, Caroline, how I admire you for taking on this job. David told me that you had wanted to go abroad—he said you are here temporarily—and I know it’s because you know the children need somebody like you.”

Caroline laughed.

“Don’t try to make me too noble, Mr. Wescott. The going abroad was only a dream—in the early stages.”

“But you’d still like to do it?”

“Yes, some time. But still, first things first.”

“Well, any time you need a helping hand, or anybody to do things for you, call on me, will you? And many thanks for the coffee.”

He went away, leaving Caroline considerably surprised. There must have been some plot to get me here, she thought, they all seem to feel so responsible for me now I’m here. But she did not give it much
thought, and would have been surprised to know how deep an impression she had made upon Duncan Wescott’s hitherto unimpressionable heart.

He came again not many days later; and although the excuse was to see David once more about those same heifers, he did not go to look for
him
on the farm, but came to the house, and brought with him an enormous bunch of sweet-smelling violets. He had thousands of them, he said, in his frames, wasting their sweetness, and had thought she would like them. Caroline, who was not accustomed to getting flowers from anybody, loved them and said so, and buried her face in their fresh, damp fragrance.

He had come when the children were gathered about the table for their tea, and he accepted a cup of tea before going out to look for David. His air of comfortable friendliness soon won over Wendy, and Babs was not slow in following her. They were chatting excitedly to him when Caroline heard the back door open, and said:

“I think this is Mr. Springfield now
.
”

She was mistaken however. A light tap on the door of the kitchen was followed
alm
ost,
at once by the appearance of Miss. Myrtle Weedon, smiling her artificial smile, her eyes lighting up at the discovery that
M
r. Wescott was there.

“Why, what a merry party,” she said. “You do all look cosy and comfortable. Good afternoon, Miss Hearst, and good afternoon, Mr. Wescott. And how are my dear children? I feel I must apologize because it is so long since I came to look you up.”

“Please don’t apologize,” said Caroline politely.

“There is always so much to do, you know. Although I live alone, and of course my cottage is very small, I am wanted for all the village affairs and am always so busy.”

“You mustn’t bother about us if you are so busy,” said Caroline, very much wishing that Miss Weedon wouldn’t.

“Ah, never too busy for friends, you know. One must make time. Don’t you agree, Mr. Wescott?”

Duncan Wescott had no desire to stay there and listen to Miss Weedon’s conversation. He thanked Caroline for the tea, said he must now go and find David and made his escape. He exchanged a glance of sympathy and resignation with Caroline as he went. Caroline, always trained to politeness, offered tea and poured it out for her unwanted guest.

“Such lovely violets,” said Miss Weedon. “One doesn’t need to be very clever to know where
they
came from. Only Mr. Wescott has such large violets so early. I smelt them as soon as I came into the room.”

An incurable gossip, her mind had already fixed delightedly on Duncan Wescott’s being here, and having brought flowers with him. She did not even mind when Caroline said she was very busy, and obviously wanted to get on with whatever it was she was doing, because if Miss Weedon hurried, she could get to Mrs. Burnett’s house while the Burnetts were still at tea, and pass on this information. So she departed with more alacrity than Caroline had dared to hope for.

That evening, she mentioned Miss Weedon to David. He seemed to be i
n
a relaxed mood and unusually disposed to conversation. She was packing dishes on to her tray.

“How does one keep out unwanted visitors?” she asked him. “Ones who come to the back door, and come in without being asked?”

“Do you mean Duncan Wescott?” he asked.

“Good heavens, no. We all like Mr. Wescott. I was thinking of Miss Weedon, who came before and was here this afternoon, and whom we don’t like much.”

“Miss Weedon! Good heavens, is she still going strong? Rather tall, sandy-haired woman?”

“Rather tall, yes; more grey than sandy.”

“Yes, I suppose she would be now. It’s such years ago. Oh, my dear Miss Hearst, I should say there is no escape. We dodged her in my young days, or tried to. Nobody can match her in persistence, or in thickness of skin, so she always wins. The only thing is not to leave the back door unlatched.”

“Then the children can’t run in and out of the garden, and now the evenings are lightening, they like to go out after tea. Oh, and talking of the garden, Mr. Springfield, it really needs a man to do some of the digging. I’ve been cleaning up some of the beds, but it’s rather hard going.”

“Of course, it’s too hard for you. I’ll try to spare one of the men for a few afternoons. I’ve taken on a young chap from the village, and later on I’ll get another. You must let me know when you want to borrow one.”

“Thank you. I will.”

“These are nice,” commented David, touching the petals of the violets that stood in a little silver bowl on the table. “Did they come out of the garden?”

“No. Mr. Wescott brought them over.”

“Oh.” David was thoughtful for a few seconds. Then he said:

“It was through Wescott that I first heard about you.”

“Was it?”

“Are you—old friends?”

“No. I think I told you that he came occasionally to Mrs. Webster’s home. We exchanged a few civilities, that is all.”

“It occurs to me, Miss Hearst, that, as you have lived here so long and must have met so many people, you must have friends you want to see. But you haven’t asked for free time
.”

“I haven’t needed it—yet. I haven’t really friends that I want to see. I didn’t have time for making friends when I was with Mrs. Webster.”

“But there must be somebody. Do your family live here?”

She looked up at him quickly.

“My family
...
? Did you really make no enquiries about me, Mr. Springfield, when you took me on?”

“I made no enquiries. I relied on my own judgment, and I don’t
think
I was mistaken. Why are you so surprised? Is your family so remarkable?”

“I haven’t any family. Mrs. Webster took me out of a children’s home—what in the old days used to be called an orphanage. I was sixteen years old and she engaged me to be a housemaid.”

“Good heavens,” said David softly.

“Now
you
are surprised,” said Caroline, laughing.

“I am. Extremely surprised. I would never have dreamed
...
Shall I tell you what I thought about you?”

“Yes, please do.”

“I knew, of course, that you were a companion and help to Mrs. Webster; and I knew Mrs. Webster well in the old days. My brother and I were always at the Webster parties, and there were many of them when the family was growing up. I know that she was a fastidious person, and I imagined vaguely that you might be the daughter of one of her old friends. People not so well off as they had been—that sort of thing.”