Chapter III: Richard's Wards

RICHARD WHITMORE was left sole executor and guardian to his sisters. This was to be expected, as Mrs. Whitmore had the power to appoint, in accordance with the will of her late husband. And who could be so fit for such a trust as Dick? Indeed, the mother was beyond measure thankful that he was of an age to undertake it.

As to the little property which their father had it in his power to bequeath, that was to be equally divided amongst the girls after the mother's death, each taking her share as she came of age.

The division would present no difficulty, as the property was purely personal, and had been carefully invested during Mr. Whitmore's lifetime. In the meanwhile, outsiders who knew the circumstances of the younger members of the family, wondered what arrangements Richard would make for the girls. Would all go on as before, or would a difference be made now the mother was gone? So long as Richard remained a bachelor it might answer very well to keep the girls about him, to brighten the home as of old. But were he to marry, how would a young wife like to come amongst such a tribe of sisters? And seven years must pass before Molly, the youngest of them, would be of age.

They were fine, handsome, and intellectual girls, and some of them might soon marry, for Gertrude was now twenty and Mina eighteen. But they had not much to bring in the way of dowry, and girls brought up as they had been—"shamefully indulged," said one lady of vinegarish aspect—were no wives for poor men.

"Perhaps Mr. Richard will do something more for his sisters," suggested a listener, little Miss Pease.

"Better teach them to do with less, and especially Miss Gertrude; not to act as if they were heiresses, and could carry all before them. Remember, they have no claim on Richard Maynard Whitmore. All he has, came from the Maynards, and through his mother. To be sure, they are children of the same father, but from Mr. Whitmore Dick does not get a penny-piece. They have his share of the father's little property to swell their portions, seeing it is divided into four parts instead of five. Richard's property has been taxed enough already, for they have all lived upon it from the time of his mother's marriage until now. It was not what Mr. Whitmore had that kept the family in princely style at Mere Side. They have had no trifle out of Richard Whitmore," retorted Miss Sharp, the keen-visaged lady alluded to.

"I do not believe he ever made such a calculation in his life," replied the other. "He only considers how much happiness he can give to others, and especially his sisters."

"They are only half-sisters," persisted Miss Sharp.

"It would be a pity to remind him of the fact. He would feel so much the poorer," answered Miss Pease, with a smile. She understood Richard Whitmore.

"What an extraordinary remark! I should think that he would be much poorer in reality, for having that tribe of girls hanging on him. Besides, he knows they have no claim on him, and that they are half-sisters, whatever you or anybody else may say."

"Happily for them and himself, he does not give them a half share of brotherly love. I believe he would be deeply wounded if they, or anyone else, alluded to him as their stepbrother. You see they have been so entirely brought up together, and Richard's own mother died so soon, that she seemed to have slipped out of the family, so to speak, before there was any question of calculating kinship."

"What an absurd speech, my dear Miss Pease, if you will forgive my saying so! Of course the first Mrs. Whitmore was gone, or there could not have been a second. And a very good thing for Amy Christie that her husband did not marry her first, and that Miss Maynard that was, Dick's mother, could not take her money with her. But do you think things will go on just in the old way at Mere Side? I do not envy Dick the guardianship of Miss Gertrude. That girl will plague him yet."

"I cannot tell," replied Miss Pease. "Though we are great friends, Richard has not mentioned his plans to me, probably because he has made none. Knowing him as I do, I should think he will try to make the home all that it has hitherto been to the girls, only without the mother, and that his great sorrow will be that he has her the less to love and care for."

Miss Pease was right in her judgment of Richard. As to three out of the four girls their minds were disturbed by no anxieties. So far, their lives had been as happy as love could make them. They could have no fears for the future, when they thought of what Richard had been in the past.

"We cannot bring our dear mother back by our tears and sorrow," said Dick, his voice trembling and his kind eyes moist with tears, for he was so manly that he was not ashamed to weep with the rest. "All we can do is to remember the beautiful example she set us, her loving ways and wise words, and to love each other all the more for her dear sake."

They kissed him and each other, Gertrude amongst the rest, and were thankful, oh, so thankful that they had Dick—no one but Dick—to look up to in the place of the parents who were gone.

If Miss Sharp could have read his thoughts, she would have found that, instead of calculating how long it would be before Molly's majority would enable him to wash his hands of all legal responsibility about "that tribe of girls," he was rejoicing that for seven years to come he could claim the precious privilege of watching over the youngest darling. As to the others, this was what Dick said in his heart—

"In the nature of things, I must part with them by degrees. They are sure to be sought after for their own sakes, and I can easily save, to increase their little portions. We shall live very quietly for the next twelve months, at any rate. What a blessing it is that families are scattered by degrees I can hardly lose more than one at a time; and as for Molly, seven years is a good while to look forward to."

After the first days of sorrow were over, Gertrude's mind was much exercised as to what would be her own position in the family. Would Richard allow her to sit in her mother's seat and act as mistress? If he did this then she would acknowledge him as a brother indeed, though conscience told her that she did not deserve such confidence.

Richard, however, had no intention of placing his sister in such a position. He felt that she was too young to be looked up to by the girls nearest in age to herself, or to guide the reins of a large establishment like that at Mere Side, and he frankly told her so.

"If it were a matter of looking graceful and pouring out tea, or doing a host of feminine matters, I know of no one who would do better than yourself. But the housekeeping would be too heavy a weight for such young shoulders. Wait a moment, dear—" for Gertrude was about to protest that she was able for all, if he would trust her. "I am not old enough or wise enough to be father and mother. I can only be the big brother to you girls. We must have a good woman in the house for all our sakes."

Then Richard told her that he had thought of Miss Pease, their mother's friend, and of similar age, but he had not spoken to her as yet.

"I want you girls to think if there is any one whom we could all like better. You are the eldest, Gertrude, and so I have named this to you first, that you may talk it over with the rest. You know there must be some motherly lady to act as your chaperone and my friend, but I will not ask Miss Pease unless there is a unanimous vote in her favour."

There was such a vote. Miss Pease was invited to come to Mere Side, and, as Richard put it to herself, "to be as much of a mother to all of us as you possibly can."

The little lady almost said "No" to begin with, but she was persuaded to take time, and finally said "Yes."

Miss Sharp found plenty to occupy her in criticising this arrangement, since she could not alter it, and declared that she could now understand Miss Pease's persistent praise of Richard Whitmore. Mrs. Whitmore had long been delicate, and no doubt she had reckoned on being asked to fill her shoes after a fashion.

"She has fawned on Mrs. Whitmore and praised up Richard in the most bare-faced manner," said Miss Sharp. "What a pity it is that the owner of Mere Side is such a young man, and that Miss Pease is old enough to be his mother, or else she might perhaps have hung up her bonnet there once and for altogether."

There are always Miss Sharps in the world, ready to misjudge their neighbours, and to attribute motives for the conduct of those who are better than themselves, which would never have entered into the minds of those they criticise. The speaker was as unable to understand Miss Pease as she was to appreciate Richard Whitmore. Little did she guess that, so far from being eager to take such a responsibility on herself, it was with fear and trembling, and after much thought and many prayers, that she consented to live at Mere Side as a friend and companion to the family.

Gertrude consented to the arrangement, not because she wished it, but because she was convinced from Richard's manner that it would either be Miss Pease or somebody else, and she know of no one whom she would prefer to her mother's friend.

"I am sure I could have managed the housekeeping," she said, "with Wharton's help. She has spent most of her life in the family, and really does all the practical part, Richard."

"But, my dear, you forget, just as I am apt to do, that after all I am a young man and a bachelor. How could you have your young girl friends here if there were no older lady to beam propriety over the domestic circle?"

"I thought of that at once, Dick," said Mina. "Of course, there must be some one who will be a little like the dear mother, and to whom we can go as we used to do to her. Jo and I thank you very much for Miss Pease, and if mother could have chosen for us, she would have said the same."

"Perhaps she did choose," replied Dick. "Only I wanted to know how you felt as well. You may like her all the better for being told that our mother, foreseeing that she would have to leave us, herself suggested the friend she loved as most suitable to fill the place in one sense. I had to tell Miss Pease this before she agreed to come. What do you think about it, Molly?"—to the girl who was clinging to his arm.

"That what mother and you settled must be the very best thing," she replied, squeezing the arm a little more closely.

There was only one discordant echo, and that was not in word, but in thought. Gertrude said to herself—

"I shall not put Miss Pease in my mother's place, or consult her and make her a confidante. She will be housekeeper and chaperone, if needs must, but that will be all. As to other girls coming here, I want none of them."

It was after some deliberation in her own room that Gertrude spied her brother in the garden, and asked for a few moments' quiet talk with him, and she found it rather difficult to begin when they both met in his little room; but Richard's kindly, "What is it, dear?" and the way in which he sat down beside her, so as to take away all appearance of formality from their talk, emboldened her to speak.

"I thought," she said, "that we should be told something about our circumstances. I know my mother had no need to make a will, but we girls are quite ignorant about our father's affairs, and as to what means we shall have of our very own. I wish you would tell us."

"Do the others—I mean, Mina and Jo—want to know?" asked Dick, rather nervously.

Gertrude would not say yes, for she could not, so she replied—

"I am sure they would like to be told. It is only natural."

Dick hesitated a moment; then in a half-jesting way he answered—

"For a year to come even you are my ward, and I am the guardian of your property and dear self, Gertrude. The others will be in the same position for longer periods—that is, until they are of age or marry with my consent."

"Do you mean to say I should have to ask it too?"

"I suppose so, Gertrude, since I am your lawfully appointed guardian. It does seem absurd, does it not? But there could hardly be a difference made between you and the rest. You need not mind that, dear; for if the fairy prince should come, we will receive him with all due honour."

The girl could scarcely listen patiently. She felt more angry than ever at the position in which she found herself. She had hoped by concealing her knowledge of her comparative dependence, that possibly she might be allowed to rule as mistress of Mere Side, until she should leave it for a home of her own. Instead of that, she was in double leading-strings, under Dick and Miss Pease, and must endure them for a year to come. She, however, preserved an appearance of calmness, and asked another question.

"Tell me, Richard, what I have to look forward to? I know my father left something to be divided amongst us girls, and surely I am old enough to be informed what?"

"For a year to come you can have—from our father's property, I mean—an allowance of one hundred and twenty-five pounds. That is a settled amount. After that a principal sum will be absolutely yours—how much I cannot tell at present; it will depend on circumstances. Only you may believe me, dear, that your interests are in safe hands, and that whatever you are entitled to will not diminish during the next twelve months. You know," he added, "there is no longer the dear mother to require a share of it."

Gertrude appeared satisfied.

"Thank you, Richard," she said. "I hope you have not thought me very troublesome or needlessly inquisitive. It was natural I should ask, was it not?"

"Quite natural, Gertrude. Never hesitate to speak to me about anything. I am only too glad when you come to me for any information I can give."

The girl left him, and Dick's face assumed a brighter expression.

"That is well over," thought he. "I have been rather dreading this, and I am glad I have been able to satisfy her quite truthfully without telling her too much. In a year's time I shall be better prepared to speak, and in seven I shall only be thirty-three. I can do a great deal by contriving matters in seven years. Besides, I am not tied to keep every acre; I can sell some if I choose."

Gertrude went straight to her room without troubling herself to impart what Richard had told her to Mina and Jo. She threw herself on a couch, and burst into a perfect passion of tears.

"I know," she said, speaking aloud in her anger. "He could not deceive me. The money I am to receive as an allowance is the interest of my fortune—the exact sum to which I am lawfully entitled. All the rest I owe to charity. My fortune, indeed! It is a shame! A cruel shame!"

If only the girl's vision had been clearer, if she could but have judged rightly, she would have seen that the only one on whom the shadow of shame rested was herself, because of her unthankfulness for past and present blessings, and worse than ingratitude to the true heart whose unselfish affection only desired to continue them, without even allowing her to know that she owed them to him.

Three days later a tall, graceful girl, dressed in deep mourning and closely veiled, applied in the proper quarter for a sight of the late Mr. Whitmore's will. It was Gertrude, who, being at Salchester, the county town, with Miss Pease, managed to obtain the wished-for opportunity by asking to be left in the cathedral, whilst her gentle chaperone went on a shopping expedition.

"I cannot bear to be in the streets and business places," she said. "I will wait for you here."

"I can quite understand your feelings, dear Gertrude," replied Miss Pease. "I will come back for you as soon as possible."

The office at which Gertrude wished to call was within the Close, and long before Miss Pease returned the girl had effected the object for which she had really accompanied her to Salchester. The result of the search was exactly what she had expected. The sum total of her father's property would bring in a trifle less than five hundred a year. Richard was dealing generously with her in giving her a full fourth of that amount for her private use, as it was all on which she had any legal claim.