Chapter XXIV: The House-Party Arrives

Ever since the restoration of Guildford had been an assured fact, Carolina had looked forward to gathering the dearest of her friends and relatives under its roof for a housewarming, and as Thanksgiving Day was the first festival to occur after its completion, she issued her invitations for that day, and anticipated the arrival of her guests with a heart so full of gratitude that she walked with her head in the clouds.

Beautiful Guildford stood upon its ancient site, more beautiful by far than it ever had been before, for Carolina had allowed herself a few liberties, which, after seeing, even Judge Fanshaw Lee approved.

For example, the great flight of steps, as broad as an ordinary house, was lengthened to raise the house to an even more commanding position, and to allow a better view of the ocean and river from the upper windows and the flat, railed-in roof. In the midst of this great flight of steps was a platform, where twenty persons might have dined at ease, with a collateral flight of steps on each side, leading, as well as the second section of the central staircase, to the porch. No one who has not seen Guildford can form any idea of the imposing beauty of this snowy expanse of steps leading to its veranda. And such a veranda! Surely, the observer exclaimed, the whole house could be no larger! so great was the idea its size first induced. It ran around all four sides of the house, and was lived in for fully nine months of the year. It was fitted with screens and glass, which could be removed at will, but for her house-party, so perfect was the weather, even these slight obstructions to the view were dispensed with.

Inside the house, however, Carolina had carried out the original plan, with only the necessary additions of bathrooms to each suite and plenty of closets, which the old Guildford had never possessed. This did not interfere with the installation of the great carved wardrobes, without which no Southern house could look natural to a Southerner.

These she designed from old cuts and had made to order, preferring new ones exactly like those which had been in the family for generations to purchasing old pieces which rightly belonged to other histories than hers. Guildford was frankly a restoration, so she boldly reproduced the furniture as well as the house.

With the papering she had some difficulty. No one could remember the exact patterns, and there was more friction over diverse recollections of wallpaper than over any other point. But Carolina waived all advice finally, deciding that decorations were but temporary at best, and resting upon the absolute word of Judge Fanshaw Lee, of Charleston, that Guildford had been utterly redecorated in 1859.

This decision gave Carolina a free hand, and she exercised her taste to such good purpose that the new Guildford, in its decorations, maintained an air of age, yet so skilfully was it done that it was also essentially modern. Only patterns were used which had borne the test of time, as one who discarded in cut glass the showier designs for the dignified simpler patterns, considering them more restful to live with than those more ornate and modern.

In her cut glass Carolina had been more fortunate, owing to the possession of a few precious pieces, preserved among the Lees, from which to design. The largest was a huge epergne, with glittering pendants, which rose almost to the chandelier, and was designed for pyramids of fruit. It was so delightfully old-fashioned that Carolina viewed it with clasped hands.

Although electric light glowed unobtrusively from submerged globes in walls and ceilings, Carolina used sconces for the wax tapers of her ancestors, and the delicate light was so deftly shaded and manipulated that it seemed only to aid and abet the candles.

The central staircase of the house rose from the midst of a square hall, turned on a broad landing, and wound, in two wings, back upon itself to reach the second floor. On this landing was an enormous window, cushioned and comfortable, from which the view of the fallow fields and winding river was quite as attractive as the front view, which gave upon the distant ocean.

The main hall pierced the roof, in the centre of which was a gorgeous skylight of stained glass. Here, too, Carolina had departed from the lines of ancient Guildford, for no less a hand than that of John La Farge designed that graceful group, whose colours drenched the marble floor beneath with all the colours of the rainbow.

A high carved balustrade ran around this space on the second floor, from behind which, in years gone by, the children and black mammies had viewed the arrival of distinguished guests, whose visits had helped to make Guildford famous.

From this square space, transverse halls ran each way, with suites of rooms on both sides, ending in doors which led to the upper porch, as large and commodious and more beautiful than the lower, because the view was finer.

This gives an idea of the plan of Guildford, but not necessarily of other Southern houses, unless you go back to old New Orleans, for Guildford partook largely of the beauty of the Creole estates, owing to the originator of the present design, who had felt the influence of many foreign countries in his travels. Returning to spend the remainder of his life in his native land, he had built Guildford--a mansion in those days--in 1703, on the site of the first house, built originally in 1674. Thus, the Guildford which Carolina built was the third actual house to bear that name.

The morning of Thanksgiving Day dawned clear, cool, and beautiful. Carolina was up at sunrise, full of delightful anticipations, and as brimming with zeal for the pleasure of her guests as any young bride in her first house.

Mr. Howard was bringing most of his guests in his car, and only yesterday she had received a telegram from him saying: "Am bringing an extra guest, an old friend of yours, as a surprise. Due Enterprise nine A.M. to-morrow. All Lees aboard."

Just as he had anticipated, this threw her into a fever of curiosity. It must be some one who would be congenial, yet she fancied she had asked everybody who seemed to belong. Who could the newcomer be? Man or woman? Old or young?

"All Lees aboard." That meant that Sherman and Addie had decided to come, after all. She wondered if they had brought the children. All Lees. That _must_ mean the children, because she had invited them. All Lees,--that meant also the Fanshaw Lees, of Charleston, whom he had promised to pick up on the way. But who could the other be? Carolina almost shook the scrap of yellow paper to make it divulge the secret. How uncommunicative telegrams can be!

There was plenty of room at Guildford,--that was fortunate. And every room was in order. She would give him (?) her (?) the violet room and bath in the south wing. But if she only knew!

Rosemary and her husband were comfortably ensconced in the cottage, and had asked to have Mrs. Goddard under their own roof. Colonel Yancey and his children would, of course, be the guests of Mrs. Pringle at Whitehall, but Carolina expected as her very own, Mr. and Mrs. Howard, Kate, Noel, and Sir Hubert Wemyss, Judge Fanshaw Lee and his wife and children, from Charleston, Cousin De Courcey Lee, Aunt Evelyn Lee, Aunt Isabel and Uncle Gordon Fitzhugh, with the children, Eppie, Marie, Teddy, and Bob.

Every neighbour within a radius of twenty miles was anxious to help Carolina entertain her guests. Moultrie had arranged a hunt, Aunt Angie was to give an oyster roast on the shore, Colonel Yancey had declared for an old-fashioned barbecue, whereat all the negroes promptly lost their minds. Mrs. Gordon Fitzhugh, after consulting Carolina's plans, advised a fishing-party and picnic, rather an oddity in November, with everything to be cooked on the ground, including a 'possum with sweet potatoes. Carolina greeted each of these proposals with tears in her eyes. Never before had she been so loved! Hitherto, she had been surrounded by courtiers, flattered and admired, always, however, with a generous appreciation of favours to come.

But here, she was with her own, and her own had received her with open arms and taken her into their inmost hearts.

As Carolina walked in her garden, after her morning canter on Araby, she wondered if any one on earth was so fortunate as she.

A messenger came up the broad avenue, and Carolina went to meet him. It was with a note from Mrs. Barnwell, saying that she was sending the carryall to the station at Enterprise, for fear Carolina, at the last moment, might not have room for all her guests.

The Barnwells' carryall! Carolina gave a laugh that was half a sob, to think of the part that ancient vehicle had played in her life during the last year. The neighbours had not seen the glistening carriages and automobiles which stood as impatiently as inanimate things so beautiful and alert can be,--inanimate things which know that they can go. She turned to the messenger.

"Give my love to Mrs. Barnwell, Sam, and say that I will ride home in the carryall myself, and that I thank her for her kindness. Can you remember that, or shall I write a note?"

"I kin 'member it, Miss Calline. Thank you, ma'am!"

Mrs. Barnwell subsequently got a message from Sam to the effect that "Miss Calline sed she'd 'a' had to walk her own self ef Mrs. Barnwell hadn't 'a' sont de ca'yall." Which is about as accurate as any message can be after going through the brain of a negro.

Finally it was time to go to the train. Carolina had no fear that the train carrying the car of a president of a Northern road would be late, so she hurried Rosemary and Lionel and Cousin Lois into her big blue French touring-car, and started.

As they sped down the great avenue, Carolina looked back at Guildford, as a mother looks back at her first-born child. There rose the beautiful house, just as the strangers would get their first glimpse of it; for the last time the Howards came South, only a dim idea of it could have been obtained.

There was not a hint of frost as yet. Late roses bloomed riotously in the garden, which Carolina had been tending for the last eight months with a view to this very day. She had planned well. She did not intend to have a rebuilt Guildford look down upon patches of brown earth, remains of mortar beds, and broken-down shrubbery. Every day she had cautioned the workmen against destroying any of her outdoor work, and, as fast as she could, she had made the gardens, the lawns, and the hedges keep pace with the builders, so that everything might be completed practically at the same time. A dozen black forms were hurrying hither and thither, bent on carrying out "lill mistis's last orders." The quarters glistened in the sunshine, even the dogs asleep on the steps were just as Carolina had pictured Guildford in her childish dreams in Paris.

It was a very excited little group which stood on the tiny platform at Enterprise, waiting for the train.

Finally, only half an hour late, its warning whistle sounded, and scarcely had the brakes squeaked, when Mr. Howard sprang from the forward end of the rear car, followed by--Doctor Colfax!

Carolina could scarcely believe her eyes. She did not speak. She only went with outstretched hands to meet her friends, and something in the way Doctor Colfax looked at her hinted at some great change. Then Mrs. Goddard followed, and, even in the excitement of placing her people in the proper vehicles, and in the midst of unanswered questions and unlistened-to replies, Carolina noticed that Doctor Colfax hovered near Mrs. Goddard. She wondered if he remembered the last thing he said about her. But, oh, the joy of seeing them friends!

Addie was wonderfully friendly. She kissed Carolina quite affectionately, and told her that Kate Howard had succeeded in curing her neuralgia, to which Carolina knew Addie had been a slave for years.

Addie's children, Cynthia and Arthur, were wild with delight. It was the first time they ever had been South, and to leave snow in New York on one day and see roses blooming the next was more than their young imaginations could stand.

They always had been fond of their Aunt Carolina, but now their comments on her beauty were quite embarrassing.

As Kate sprang from the steps, a close observer might have seen a telegraphic question flash from Carolina's eyes to hers and a quick negative flash back. No one but a woman would have known what it signified. Still Carolina seemed satisfied with Kate's radiant aspect.

Judge Fanshaw Lee was pompous but plainly delighted, and ready to be pleased with everything. Carolina was keen to see what he would think of her daring, for he had promptly wet-blanketed her every effort to assist him in any way. But she could see that he was impressed with the appearance of her automobiles, and she fairly ached to have him see Guildford.

To achieve this end, she gave personal instructions to each chauffeur and driver to go by roads which would enable her, even in the Barnwells' carryall, to arrive at Guildford first.

"You aren't going in that thing?" cried Kate. "There's plenty of room here."

"I'm going in it to accept the hospitality of a dear neighbour," said Carolina.

Kate and Noel were seated in a little electric runabout. As they started ahead, Kate turned to Noel and said:

"Somehow, I can't listen to anything Carolina says lately without knowing that the bridge of my nose is going to ache before she turns me loose."

"She certainly is the most angelic creature!" said Noel.

Kate looked at him out of the tail of her eye.

"Do you like angels?"

"I do, indeed."

A pause.

"But I could never fall in love with one."

"Oh!" said Kate.

Noel cleared his throat once or twice, as if trying to say something. Finally he said:

"Kate, won't you be hurt if I say an indiscreet thing?"

"Certainly not. You know you can say anything you like to me. I'm not a fool."

"Well, here goes, then. I've been noticing lately that you don't stammer any more. Are you being treated for it?"

"No," cried Kate, plainly delighted. "I am treating myself."

"Then, don't!" cried Noel. "Kate, I can't bear it. Yours was the most attractive, the dearest little mannerism--not a bit disagreeable. Your speech, so far from being marred by it, was only made distinctive. I--I feel as if I had lost my Kate!"

His voice sank with unmistakable tenderness at the last words, and Kate stiffened herself, as if prepared for a plunge into ice-water. Finally she caught her breath sufficiently to say, awkwardly:

"If you care, Noel, of course I w-won't."

"If I care!" cried St. Quentin. "Do I care about anything or anybody else in all this world except Kate Howard? Don't talk as if you didn't know it."

"K-know it!" cried Kate, stammering quite honestly. "Indeed," as she told Carolina later, "after that, I'd have stammered if I'd been cured of it fifty times over. A proposal is enough to make any woman stammer!"

"Indeed, and I didn't. I th-thought you were in love with C-Carolina."

"Carolina!" cried Noel. "Carolina! Well, you are blind! As if she would ever look at me, in the first place--"

"Oh, so that was your reason," interrupted Kate.

"And in the second place," pursued Noel, calmly ignoring the interruption, "she is in love with--"

"With whom?" exploded Kate, gripping his arm.

"Why, with La Grange! Did you never notice them together last spring, and then the way she speaks of him?"

Kate let her own love-affair slip from her mind, while she thought rapidly for a few minutes.

"I believe you are right," she said, slowly, "but I can tell you something more. They are not engaged. Something is separating them."

"I think so, too. Possibly Carolina is holding off. I've noticed that girls have a way of doing that."

Kate's face crimsoned. She afterward told Carolina that, if Noel had caught her laughing, he would have known all.

But her obstinate silence left it to Noel to continue.

"Kate," he said, finally, "when you get through playing with me, will you begin to take me seriously? I'm tired of your game. Now don't pretend that you haven't been baiting me."

"Honestly, Carolina," said Kate, afterward, "I'm telling you this j-just so you'll know how d-dog funny the whole thing was. Here I've nearly had nervous prostration for a year, wondering if he ever _would_ propose, and then he went and accused me of playing a game to hold him off! Aren't men fools?"

"I--I thought when you g-got good and ready, y-you'd speak your mind," said Kate to Noel. "I c-couldn't go down on my knees and b-beg you to name the day, could I?"

"Do you mean to tell me," said St. Quentin, "that you will accept me,--that you will marry me, Kate?"

"T-that's just what my p-poor, feeble speech is t-trying to g-get through your th-thick head," said Kate.

But Noel refused to be amused. He reached for Kate's hand, and, in spite of Kate's impertinence, if he had looked, he would have seen tears in her eyes.