Chapter IX: The First Marriage in the Family

THE party came back from London after a stay of nearly a month. Annie and Honora met them at the station. With them came a gentlemanlike man, who was introduced as "My friend, Mr. Stanhope." The girls looked very happy; Frances looked her very best.

"Have you heard from Piers, Honora? We have not seen him for at least a week. He is so busy."

"You could not easily see him, for he has been here since Saturday week; and he is very well, and likes his new life."

"Oh, I am glad he contrived to get away! He came every day for a time, and then he did not think that he could leave London. Miss Vandeleur, Dr. Egerton is here."

"Yes, I know he is," was the reply.

"Here he comes," said Annie. "He was at Dr. Musgrave's."

When they got into the lighted parlour, no one could look at any one but Violet. That young lady, who had hitherto worn her hair hanging over her shoulders in an untidy mass, now had it piled up in artistic waves high on her head, and it was exceedingly becoming to her. So was a soft, dark dress, which softened the angles of her girlish figure. As for Daisy, she was always pretty, but she looked lovely now.

Much talk went on, but through it all the stranger, whom Dr. Egerton had greeted as an acquaintance, sat in a quiet corner and watched Marian. Piers glanced at him in an anxious way until he saw that Honora observed him. Later, when he was about to leave them (for he was nominally on a visit to Dr. Musgrave), Mr. Stanhope said he was accompanying him as he wanted to smoke.

Next day, as the sisters sat together chatting, Miss Vandeleur came in.

"Annie," she said, "will you come to my room for a few minutes? I want to confess my sins. I have taken what Honora would consider a liberty with you, and I want to talk to you."

Poor Annie, who between fretting and anxiety looked so worn that she might have been forty instead of six-and-twenty, followed listlessly. As soon as they were both seated, Miss Vandeleur said pleasantly—

"Your sister Honora is so fiercely independent that I should be quite afraid to confess to her that I have been meddling in—in 'your' concerns, Annie. I wish sincerely to give you all a helping hand. I coaxed Marian to tell me your difficulty, and I appealed to a friend in the army. I have purchased Ernest Wilkinson's discharge, and—"

But poor Annie had sprung up, her face suddenly losing the listless look.

"Oh, have you done that? Have you saved him? I shall bless you as long as I live. I've been so miserable! I couldn't bear to think of him; he was so unhappy. You have made me—" Here her voice was lost in sobs.

"You are very fond of him, Annie?"

"Any one would be fond of him," was the answer.

"I do not think that I should, I must confess. If he were able to support a wife, would you marry him?"

"If he—asks me—again, when that time comes."

"Well, I have a friend who, as secretary to the governor of Brisbane, requires the services of a clerk. He is in England, but goes back next month. He has promised me to give Ernest Wilkinson this chance. The salary is a hundred and fifty pounds a year, and the appointment is permanent if the man behaves well. Men are difficult to get out there, and as long as he gives satisfaction, he is pretty sure of his place. Young Wilkinson knows of this, and he will be here to-morrow. I would advise you to let him go alone, if I thought you would listen to me; conscience compels me to say this."

Annie laughed and said, "I have heard that advice pretty often. But Ernest is very fond of me, and is always quite content and steady as long as he is with me. He is one who cannot do without a home, and if he asks me, I will try to make a home for him. I always told him he must ask me when the time came; I never would be engaged to him. And whether he does, or does not, I shall be thankful to you for giving him this chance, the best he ever had."

"Do not thank me. I am doing this for reasons of my own. I have plans, which do not affect you."

"I must go and tell Marian," cried Annie.

Early next day, Piers Egerton came to the castle, and found Honora waiting for him at the gate. They walked on together.

"Piers, tell me about Mr. Stanhope. He was brought here to see Marian, I think."

"You little witch! I was afraid you guessed. Yes, Miss Vandeleur asked me to name the best man in cases such as hers, and I named Stanhope. If anything can be done, he is the man to do it. Do you think Marian would be frightened about herself if he spoke to her?"

"She has Dr. Elliott's opinion—we write to him, you know—and she has yours. We do not need Miss Vandeleur's help. For Marian, one would perhaps accept it, but it is not altogether for her. And he can do nothing for her. Oh, Piers, you know that!"

"Stanhope is wonderfully skilful; and as he is here, do you think she would be frightened?"

"Do you know her so little as to fear that? Marian knows—what we all know, and as her favourite hymn says, she 'dreads the grave as little as her bed.' And why is she to be annoyed because of Miss Vandeleur's plans?"

"Honora, you don't like Miss Vandeleur, but be just to her. Come now, Honourbright."

"You are mistaken; I 'do' like her. She is very pleasant always. But I have known ever since she came here that she has some plan in her head about us. She has now got to know us all, and I think her plan has taken shape; and you will see that she will settle everything about all of us to suit that plan. She has made Vio and Daisy all her own; she has got rid of Annie. Oh, I know she did it kindly, but all the same Annie will be gone! She wants to know for certain about Marian. There remain Frances and me."

"You! Oh, you belong to me."

"I do, Piers; and I therefore have your honour in my keeping, and so I will not be a pawn in Miss Vandeleur's game. I have held a little aloof from the first, because I belong to you."

"You're a darling! But, Honora, mind you, she is immensely rich. She could provide for you all, and never feel it. I feel I ought to tell you to consider, for rich I shall not be for years—rich as she is rich, I shall never be."

"Should you like me to pay the price she may demand, Piers? Should you like me even to bow down before her, like Vio and Daisy, who think her the best and loveliest of women, and from whose minds she has blotted out what Marian and Annie and I did for them? And honestly, Piers, tell me true. Would you rather take me as I am, or with my hands full of gold given me in return for years of—"

"Years! I won't wait years. Years of what, Honora?"

"Answer my question, dear. Which would you rather take—me as I am, or what she might make of me?"

"You as you are, Honora, for I don't think you can be improved. As to riches, if God spares me my health, I believe my career is no longer a matter of doubt; and I would fifty times rather take you as you are in that matter too, than owe wealth to any one save God and my own right hand."

Honora was a rather shy, undemonstrative girl in her ordinary manner to her lover, but when he ceased to speak, she bent towards him and kissed him.

"You have spoken as I knew you would. Oh, Piers, what a happy woman I am!"

They had reached the little creek where the girls always bathed, and were sitting side by side in a sheltered nook.

"If you are ever less than happy, dear, I only pray that it may not be my fault."

"I think it will not be your fault. We can't expect to go through life without some trials, but so long as we can trust one another, we can face them. Poor Annie! I wish I felt more confidence in 'her' future. Miss Vandeleur has taken upon herself to play Providence; and only fancy, she told Annie that she did it for a reason of her own. I said, 'I could have told you that,' and Annie was really vexed. She asked what reason she could have except kindness. I said I could not tell her."

"Can you tell me, O reader of hearts?"

"No," she said, laughing; "you would make fun of me. Well, we have lost Annie, and I will speak a prophecy for your benefit. In no long time, Marian and I will be here alone, as when you came."

"Oh, you know, this won't do. Time for me to escape. I didn't bargain for a prophetess."

"Piers, one thing which I like in you is your good sense. Take care."

"Honora, one thing which I like in you is your very great impertinence."

"So glad, for I do not fear a failure in the supply." She rose as she spoke. "That young Wilkinson is to be here presently; we had better go home."

"But, look here. Will you speak to Marian about Stanhope? As he is here, she might as well see him. I promised to arrange with you if possible."

"I will speak to her, for I will not have her urged if she objects. She is far too weak to be worried. Here comes Daisy. Well, little one, where are you going?"

"I was looking for you. Mr. Wilkinson has come. I thought he was Miss Vandeleur's visitor."

"So he is."

"Well, he and Annie are in the parlour, and Marian's on the terrace and wants you."

"Well," said Piers, "I expect I should be in the way, so I'm off for a walk. I will come back in time for tea."

The two sisters opened the gate, and went to join Marian and Violet.

"Well, Marian, what news have you?"

"None, as yet. A fine, handsome young man—pleasant-looking."

After a long stare and some meditation, Daisy presently said gleefully—

"I do believe he is Annie's lover."

"Nonsense! He is too young," cried Violet. "Is he, Marian?"

"I forget his exact age."

"But I mean, what brings him here?"

"No one can tell what Annie may say," remarked Honora, "so we ought to wait patiently."

But when Annie and Ernest Wilkinson came out after a time, there was little doubt about the matter. Annie looked tearfully happy, and the tall, well-drilled young man was beaming with triumph.

"I think," said Honora, "that you and I may shake hands, as those two are so busy with each other. Besides, we remember each other, don't we?"

"Wish me joy," he said boyishly. "She says she will. I asked her five times before, and she would not."

"Better late than never," said Honora, laughing. "And I do wish you joy, and think you very fortunate."

It presently became known that Ernest must sail with his new employer on the first of October, which left but a fortnight or so for preparation. Miss Vandeleur simplified matters by taking Annie to Plymouth and providing her with a most complete outfit. The banns were duly published in the little weather-beaten church.

Mr. Wilkinson came to perform the ceremony, the Rector of S. Canice gave the bride away, and every one said—all the village and all the denizens of Heyward's College being there—that the four bridesmaids, in their simple white dresses and blue ribbons, were well worth going further to see. And Annie and her husband were a good-looking couple, people thought.

Before they left the castle, Miss Vandeleur took the bride aside and gave her a sealed envelope.

"This is my wedding present, Annie. Keep it carefully. I have settled one hundred a year upon you, payable only to yourself, and only for your life. I felt that I ought to make certain that you cannot come to want."

"You need not have done this, but it is very kind of you. Ernest and I will never forget your great kindness to us, Miss Vandeleur, though I cannot say it as I feel it."

"I hope you will be very happy," said Miss Vandeleur. "Good-bye, my dear."

When left alone, Miss Vandeleur looked thoughtful for a time. Then she said aloud—

"But Annie was impossible—a mere household drudge, and no advantage to the others with this long lad on her hands. Violet I do not like; Daisy is a dear little goose. My choice lies between Honora and Frances. Poor Marian, she is one of the best and sweetest of women, but even if she were strong and well, she has so little education. No, Honora is the flower of the flock, and worthy of the position I can give her. With her, I shall have a home."

During the fortnight of fuss and preparation, Honora had asked Marian to see Mr. Stanhope, telling her what Piers said of him. Marian was not very willing, but as Miss Vandeleur had brought him there on her account, she consented at last.

"I will answer all his questions, but I will not let him touch me. He would only hurt me, and do me no good. But he will not want more than to talk to me."

She proved very nearly right. Mr. Stanhope, gentle and tactful as most clever doctors are, talked to her for a while, and finally took out a stethoscope.

"This will not hurt you," he said, with a very kindly smile. "You need not even move. That will do."

"You don't ask about my back," she said, with the smile that was like a faint reflection of Honora's.

"After so long a time, I do not see the use of annoying you. Elliott is a good man."

"And did nothing, because there was nothing to be done," she answered. "Run, Honora, and bring me those letters from Dr. Elliott. Here is the key of my desk."

Honora went to the sitting-room, leaving the door between the two rooms open.

Marian laid her thin hand on the great surgeon's arm.

"I know the truth," she said. "Tell me, quick—will it be much longer? Answer, please; I am not afraid."

He looked into the gentle, steady eyes, and obeyed her.

"Not long, my child, and probably painless."

"Then I may keep Honourbright," she said gladly. "I couldn't expect Piers to—"

Here Honora came back. She had heard and understood, but she gave no sign of having done so.

"Piers," Marian said to him that evening, "will you write to some stationers in London and get them to send you one of those printed forms for making a will which I see advertised? I want to make mine, and you and Dr. Musgrave will witness it for me. You will manage for me, won't you? I do not want any one else to know."

"Anything that you want, Marian, you've only to tell me."

And he managed so well that, before his holiday was over, the will was written and signed and placed in Marian's desk.

On the morning of the last day of his stay, Miss Vandeleur sent for Piers Egerton, and had a long conversation with him. He was to go by the last train. And though it was a blusterous night, Honora declared that she must go to the station with him, or he would lose his way, he was so heedless.

Frances laughed at her, but quite pleasantly. Frances had grown wonderfully pleasant of late.

"Piers, are you not going to tell me what Miss Vandeleur wanted to say to you?" Honora said as they went along the rough road.

"First, you must clear up the poignant doubts of you, madam, which have been implanted in my confiding heart."

"Dear me! Who implanted them?"

"Dr. Musgrave."

"Nice old donkey! What are these doubts, pray?"

"I asked you once if you had ever—well, I haven't time to put it nicely—been made love to by any one but myself, and you said, 'No, never.' And during my stay at his house, poor Musgrave told me that he did not come back here altogether for the sake of his garden, but because he found he must try again to win you.

"'For,' said he, 'though she refused me once, she might have listened to me in time.'

"And no sooner had he arrived than he found that you were no longer an unappropriated blessing."

"He dreams, this excellent fat man. He never put me in a position to refuse him. He was making fun of you, my poor boy. His jokes are rather inscrutable."

"It was no joke to him. It was—we shall be late for the train—it was the day he bade you good-bye, and you opened the door for him, and he asked you 'if he had a chance,' and you said he had time to catch the train, which was, my dear girl, a very vague way of replying to an offer of marriage."

"I do not remember it in the least. I suppose if he said that, I thought he meant a chance of the train. I must tell Marian. How she will laugh!"

"You hard-hearted little wretch! Laugh! If you had only heard poor Musgrave's sigh."

"Like a furnace!" said she, solemnly. "Confess, Piers—you invented all this?"

"No, truly, but I think it was a shame to tell you. However, he said he wished you to know. Hullo! Here's that walking conglomeration looking for me. Good-bye, my darling—good-bye."

"How about the doubt?" she called after him.

"Better go home and repent."

She went home, but she did not repent. On the contrary, when it struck her that Piers had never answered her about Miss Vandeleur, she came to a halt, and said—

"Just talked all that nonsense to put me off. I detest Piers!"—in a tone which was as good as a caress.