Nurse Heatherdale's Story
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'Have you told nurse other things about Treluan, children?' she said. 'It is really a dear old place,' she went on to me; 'it might be made quite delightful if Sir Hulbert could spend a little more upon it. I had set my heart on new furnishing your room this year, Bess darling, but I'm afraid it will have to wait.'
'Never mind, dear,' said Miss Bess comfortingly, in her old-fashioned way, 'there's no hurry. If I could have fresh covers to the chairs, the furniture itself – I mean the wood part – is quite good.'
'I did get some nice chintz in London,' said her mamma; 'there was some selling off rather cheap. But it's the getting things made – everything down with us is so difficult and expensive,' and my lady sighed. Her mind seemed full of the one idea, and I began to think she should try to take a cheerier view of things.
'If you'll excuse me mentioning it,' I said, 'I have had some experience in the cutting out of chair-covers and such things. It would be a great pleasure to me to help to make the young ladies' rooms nice.'
'That would be very nice indeed,' said my lady; 'I really should like to do what we can to brighten up the old house. I expect it will look very gloomy to you, nurse, till you get used to it. I do want Bess's room to look better. Of course Lally is in the nursery still, and won't need a room of her own for a long time yet.'
Miss Lally was sitting beside me, and as her mamma spoke, I heard a very tiny little sigh.
'Never mind, Miss Lally dear,' I whispered. 'We'll brighten up the nurseries too, nicely.'
These little scraps of talk come back to my mind now, when I think of that first journey down to Treluan so many years ago. I put them down such as they are, as they may help better than words of my own to give an idea of the dear children and all about them, as they then were.
We reached Treluan the afternoon of the next day. It was a dull day unfortunately, though the very middle of summer – rainy and gray. Of course every one knows that there's much weather of that kind in the west country, but no doubt it added to the impression of gloom with which the first sight of the old house struck me, I must confess. Gloom, perhaps, is hardly the word to use; it was more a feeling of desertedness, almost of decayed grandeur, quite unlike anything I had ever seen before. For in my former place everything had been bright and new, fresh and perfect of its kind. Afterwards, when I came to see into things better, I found there was no neglect or mismanagement; everything that could be done was done by Sir Hulbert outside, and my lady in her own department – uphill and trying work though it must often have been for them.
But that first evening, when I looked round the great lofty hall into which my lady had led the way, dusky and dim already with the rain pattering against the high arched windows and a chilly feeling in the air, the half dozen servants or so, who had come out to meet us – evidently the whole establishment – standing round, I must own that in spite of the children's eager excitement and delight at finding themselves at home again, my heart went down. I did feel so very far away from home and father and mother, and everything I had ever known. The first thing to cheer me was when the old housekeeper – cook-housekeeper she really was – Mrs. Brent, came forward after speaking to my lady, and shook me kindly by the hand.
'Welcome to Treluan, Nurse Heatherdale,' she said. And here I should explain that as there was already a Martha in the house, my lady had expressed her wish that I should be called 'nurse,' or 'Heatherdale,' from which came my name of 'Heather,' that I have always been called by. 'Welcome to Treluan, and don't go for to think that it's always as dull as you see it just now, as like as not to-morrow will be bright and sunny.'
She was a homely-looking body with a very kind face, not Cornish bred I found afterwards, though she had lived there many years. Something about her made me think of mother, and I felt the tears rise to my eyes, though no one saw.
'Shall I show nurse the way upstairs, my lady?' she said. For Mrs. Brent was like her looks, simple and friendly like. She had never known Treluan in its grand days of course, though she had known it when things were a good deal easier than at present; and that evening, when the children were asleep, she came up to sit with me a bit, and, though with perfect respect to her master and mistress and no love of gossip in her talk (for of that she was quite free), she explained to me a few things which already had puzzled me a little. No praise was too high for Sir Hulbert with her, and my lady was a really good, high-minded woman. 'But she takes her troubles too heavy,' said Mrs. Brent; 'she's like to break her heart at having no son of her own, and that and other things make her not show her best self to poor little Master Francis, though, considering he's been here since he was four, 'tis a wonder he doesn't seem to her like a child of her own. And Sir Hulbert feels it; it's a real grief to him, for he loved Master Francis's father dearly through all the troubles he caused them, and anyway 'tis not fair to visit the father's sin on the innocent child.'
Then she told me how Master Francis's father had made things worse by his extravagance, half-breaking his young wife's heart and leaving debts behind him, when he was killed by an accident; and that Sir Hulbert, for the honour of the family, had taken these debts upon himself.
'His wife was a pretty young creature, half a foreigner. Sir Hulbert had her brought here with the boy, and here she died, not long before Miss Lalage was born, and so, failing a son, Master Francis is the heir, and a sweet, good young gentleman he is, though nothing as to looks. 'Tis a pity he's so shy and timid in his ways; it gives my lady the idea he's not straightforward, though that I'm very sure he is, and most affectionate at heart, though he hasn't the knack of showing it.'
'Except to Miss Lally, I should say,' I put in; 'how those two do cling together, to be sure.'
'He loves them all dearly, my lady too, though he's frightened of her. Miss Lally's the one he's most at home with, because she's so little, and none of Miss Bess's masterful ways about her. Poor dear Miss Lally, many's the trouble she's got into for Master Francis's sake.'
All this was very interesting to me, and helped to clear my mind in some ways from the first, which was, I take it, a good thing. Mrs. Brent said little about Sharp, but I could see she had not approved of her; and she was so kind as to add some words about myself, and feeling sure I would make the children happy, especially the two whom it was easy to see were her own favourites, Miss Lally and her cousin. This made me feel the more earnest to do my very best in every way for the young creatures under my care.
CHAPTER IV
A NURSERY TEA
Writing down that talk with good Mrs. Brent made me put aside the account of our arrival at Treluan, clearly though I remember it. Even to this day I never go up the great staircase – of course it is not often that I pass that way – without recalling the feelings with which I stepped up it for the first time – Mrs. Brent in front, carrying a small hand-lamp, the passages being so dark, though it was still early in the evening; the children running on before me, except Miss Baby, who was rather sleepy and very cross, poor dear, so that half way up I had to lift her in my arms. All up the dark wainscoted walls, dead and gone Penroses looked down upon us, in every sort of ancient costume. They used to give me a half eerie feeling till I got to know them better and to take a certain pride in them, feeling myself, as I came to do, almost like one of the family, though in a humble way.
At the top of the great staircase we passed along the gallery, which runs right across one side of the hall below; then through a door on the right and down a long passage ending in a small landing, from which a back staircase ran down again to the ground floor. The nurseries in those days were the two large rooms beyond, now turned into a billiard-room, my present lady thinking them scarcely warm enough for the winter. It is handy too to have the billiard-room near the tower, where the smoking-room now is, and the spare rooms for gentlemen-visitors. A door close beside the nurseries opened on to the tower stair; some little way up this stair another door leads into the two or three big attics over the nurseries, which the children used as playrooms in the wet weather. Master Francis's room was the lowest door on the tower staircase, half way as it were, as to level, between the nurseries and the attics. The ground-floor rooms of the tower were entered from below, as the separate staircase only began from the nursery floor. All these particulars, of course, I learnt by degrees, having but a very general idea of things that first night; but plans of houses and buildings have always had an interest for me, and as a girl I think I had a quick eye for sizes and proportions. I do remember the first time I saw the ground-floor room of the tower, under Master Francis's, so to say, wondering to myself how it came to be so low in the ceiling, seeing that the floor of his room was several feet higher than that of the nurseries. No doubt others would have been struck by this also, had the lowest room in the tower been one in regular use, but as long as any one could remember it had only been a sort of lumber-room. It was only by accident that I went into it one day, months after I had come to Treluan.
The nurseries were nice airy rooms; the schoolroom was underneath the day nursery, down on the ground floor; and Miss Bess's room was off the little landing I spoke of before you came to the nursery passage. But all seemed dim and dusky in the half light, that first evening. It was long before the days of gas, of course, except in towns, though that, I am told, is now thought nothing of compared to this new electric light, which Sir Bevil is thinking of establishing here, to be made on the premises in some wonderful way. And even lamps at that time were very different from what they are now, when every time my lady goes up to town she brings back some beautiful new invention for turning night into day.
I was glad, I remember, June though it was, to see a bright fire in the nursery grate – Mrs. Brent was always thoughtful – and the tea laid out nice and tidy on the table. Miss Baby brightened up at sight of it, and the others gathered round to see what good things the housekeeper had provided for them by way of welcome home.
'I hope there's some clotted cream,' said Miss Bess; 'yes, that's right! Nurse has never seen it before, I'm sure. Fancy, Mrs. Brent, mamma says the silly people in London call it Devonshire cream, and I'm sure it's far more Cornish. And honey and some of your own little scones and saffron cakes, that is nice! Mayn't we have tea immediately?'
'I must wash my hands,' said Master Francis, 'they did get so black in the carriage.'
'And mine too,' said Miss Lally. 'Oh, nurse, mayn't Francis wash his for once in the night nursery, to be quick?'
'Why didn't you both keep your gloves on, you dirty children?' said Miss Bess in her masterful way. 'My hands are as clean as clean, and of course Francis mustn't begin muddling in the nursery. You'd never have asked Sharp that, Lally. It's just the sort of thing mamma doesn't like. I shall take my things off in my own room at once.' And she marched to the door as she spoke, stopping for a moment on the way to say to me – 'Heatherdale, you'll come into my room, won't you, as soon as ever you can, to talk about the new chair-covers?'
'I won't forget about them, Miss Bess,' I said quietly; 'but for a few days I am sure to be busy, unpacking and looking over the things that were left here.'
The child said nothing more, but I saw by the lift of her head that she was not altogether pleased.
'Now Master Francis,' I went on, 'perhaps you had better run off to your own room to wash your hands. It's always best to keep to regular ways.'
The boy obeyed at once. I had, to tell the truth, been on the point of letting him do as Miss Lally had wanted, but Miss Bess's speech had given me a hint, though I was not sorry for her not to have seen it. I should be showing Master Francis no true kindness to begin by any look of spoiling him, and I saw by a little smile on Mrs. Brent's face that she thought me wise, even though it was not till later in the evening that I had the long talk with her that I have already mentioned.
Our tea was bright and cheery, Miss Baby's spirits returned, and she kept us all laughing by her funny little speeches. My lady came in when we had nearly finished, just to see how all the children were – perhaps too, for she was full of kind thoughtfulness, to make me feel myself more at home. She sat down in the chair by the fire, with a little sigh, and I was sorry to see the anxious, harassed look on her beautiful face.
'You all look very comfortable,' she said; 'please give me a cup of tea, nurse. I found such a lot of things to do immediately, that I've not had time to think of tea yet, and poor Sir Hulbert is off in the rain to see about some broken fences. Oh dear! what a contrary world it seems,' she added half laughingly.
'How did the fences get broken, mamma?' said Miss Bess; 'and why didn't Garth get them mended at once without waiting to tease papa the moment he got home?'
'Some cattle got wild and broke them, and if they are not put right at once, more damage may be done. But all these repairs are expensive. It only happened two days ago; poor Garth was obliged to tell papa before doing it. Dear me,' she said again, 'it really does seem sometimes as if money would put everything in life right.'
'Oh! my lady,' I exclaimed hastily, and then I got red with shame at my forwardness and stopped short. I felt very sorry for her; the one thought seemed never out of her mind, and bid fair to poison her happy home. I felt too that it was scarcely the sort of talk for the children to hear, Miss Bess being already in some ways so old for her years, and the two others scarce as light-hearted as they should have been.
My lady smiled at me.
'Say on, Heatherdale; I'd like to hear what you think about it.'
I felt my face getting still redder, but I had brought it on myself.
'It was only, my lady,' I began, 'that it seems to me that there are so many troubles worse than want of money. There's my last lady's sister, for instance, Mrs. Vernon, – everything in the world has she that money can give, but she's lost all her babies, one after the other, and she's just heart-broken. Then there's young Lady Mildred Parry, whose parents own the finest place near my home, and she's their only child; but she had a fall from her horse two years ago and her back is injured for life; she often drives past our cottage, lying all stretched-out-like, in a carriage made on purpose.'
My lady was silent. Suddenly, to my surprise, Master Francis looked up quickly.
'I don't think I'd mind that so very much,' he said, 'not if my back didn't hurt badly. I think it would be better than walking with your leg always aching, and I daresay everybody loves that girl dreadfully.'
He stopped as suddenly as he had begun, giving a quick frightened glance round, and growing not red but still paler than usual, as was his way.
'Poor little Francie,' said Miss Lally, stretching her little hand out to him and looking half ready to cry.
'Don't be silly, Lally; if Francis's leg hurts him he has only to say so, and it will be attended to as it has always been. If everybody loves that young Lady Mildred, no doubt it is because she is sweet and loving to everybody.'
Then she grew silent again and seemed to be thinking.
'You are right, nurse,' she said. 'I am very grateful when I see my dear children all well and happy.'
'And good,' added Miss Bess with her little toss of the head.
'Well, yes, of course,' said her mother smiling. It was seldom, if ever, Miss Bess was pulled up for anything she took it into her head to say, whether called for or not.
'But,' my lady went on in a lower voice, turning to me, as if she hardly wished the children to hear, 'want of money isn't my only, nor indeed my worst trouble. – I must go,' and she got up as she spoke; 'there are twenty things waiting for me to attend to downstairs. Good-night, children dear; I'll come up and peep at you in bed if I possibly can, but I'm not sure if I shall be able. If not, nurse must do instead of me for to-night,' and she turned towards the door, moving in the quick graceful way she always did.
'Franz!' said Miss Bess reprovingly; the poor boy was already getting off his chair, but he was too late to open the door. I doubt if his aunt noticed his moving at all.
'You're always so slow and clumsy,' said his eldest cousin. The words sounded unkind, but it was greatly that Miss Bess wanted him to please her mamma, for the child had an excellent heart.
There was plenty to do after that first evening for all of us. I got sleepy Miss Baby to bed as soon as might be. The poor dear, she was sleepy! I remember how, when she knelt down in her little white nightgown to say her prayers, she could only just get out, 'T'ank God for b'inging us safe home;' as she had evidently been taught to say after a journey.
'Baby thinks that's enough, when she's been ter-a-velling,' explained Miss Lally.
Then I set to work to unpack, and it was quite surprising how handy the two elder girls – and not they only, but Master Francis too – were in helping me, and explaining where their things were kept and all the nursery ways. Then I had to be shown Miss Bess's room, and nearly offended her little ladyship by saying I hadn't time just then to settle about the new covers. For I was determined to give some attention to Master Francis also.
His room was very plain, not to say bare; not that I hold with pampering boys, but he being delicate, it did seem to me he might have had a couch or easy-chair to rest his poor leg. He was very eager to make the best of things, telling me I had no idea what a beautiful view there was from his windows, of which there were three.
'I love the tower,' he said. 'I wouldn't change my room here for any other in the house.'
And I must say I thought it was very nice of him to put things in that way, considering too the sharp tone in which I had heard his aunt speak to him that very evening.
When I woke the next morning I found that Mrs. Brent's words had come true, for the sun was pouring in at the window, and when I drew up the blind and looked out I would scarce have known the place to be the same. The outlook was bare, to be sure, compared with the well-wooded country about my home; but the grounds just around the house were carefully kept, though in a plain way, no bedding-out plants or rare foreign shrubs, such as I had been used to see at Mr. Wyngate's country place. But all about Treluan there was the charm which no money will buy – the charm of age, very difficult to put into words, though I felt it strongly.
A little voice just then came across the room.
'Nurse, dear.' It was Miss Lalage. 'It's a very fine day, isn't it? I have been watching the sun getting up ever so long. When I first wokened, it was nearly quite dark.'
I looked at the child. She was sitting up in her cot; her face looked tired, and her large gray eyes had dark lines beneath them, as if she had not slept well. Miss Baby was still slumbering away in happy content – she was a child to sleep, to be sure! A round of the clock was nothing for her.
'My dear Miss Lally,' I said, 'you have never been awake since dawn, surely. Is your head aching, or is something the matter?'
She gave a little sigh.
'No, fank you, it's nothing but finking, I mean th-inking. Oh! I wish I could speak quite right, Bess says it's so babyish.'
'Thinking! and what have you been thinking about, dearie? You should have none but happy thoughts. Isn't it nice to be at home again? and this beautiful summer weather! We can go such nice walks. You've got to show me all the pretty places about.'
'Yes,' said Miss Lally. 'I'd like that, but we'll be having lessons next week, – not all day long, we can go beautiful walks in the afternoons.'
'Was it about lessons you were troubling your little head?'
'No,' she said, though not very heartily. 'I don't like them much, at least not those very high up sums – up you know to the very top of the slate – that won't never come right. But I wasn't finking of them; it was about poor mamma, having such ter-oubles. Francie and I do fink such a lot about it. Bess does too, but she's so clever, she's sure she'll do something when she's big to get a lot of money for papa and mamma. But I'm not clever, and Francie has got his sore leg; we can't fink of anything we could do, unless we could find some fairies; but Francie's sure there aren't any, and he's past ten, so he must know.'
'You can do a great deal, dear Miss Lally,' I said. 'Don't get it into your head you can't. Rich or poor, there's nothing helps papas and mammas so much as their children being good, and loving, and obedient; and who knows but what Master Francis may be a very clever man some day, whether his poor leg gets better or not.'
The little girl seemed pleased. It needed but a kind word or two to cheer her up at any time.
'Oh! I am so glad Sharp has gone away and you comed,' she said.
She was rather silent while I was dressing her, but when she had had her bath, and I was putting on her shoes and stockings, she began again.
'Nurse,' she asked, 'do stockings cost a lot of money to buy?'
'Pretty well,' I said. 'At my home, mother always taught us to knit our own. I could show you a pair I knitted before I was much bigger than you.'
How the child's face did light up!
'I've seen a little girl knitting who's not much bigger than me. Couldn't you show me how to make some stockings, and then mamma wouldn't have to buy so many?'
'Certainly I could; I have plenty of needles with me, and I daresay we could get some wool,' I replied. 'I'll tell you what, Miss Lally; you might knit some for Master Francis; that would be pleasing him as well as your mamma. There's a village not far off, I suppose – you can generally buy wool at a village shop.'
'There's our village across the park, and there's two shops. I'll ask Bess; she'll know if we could get wool. Oh! nurse, how pleased I am; I wonder if we could go to-day. I've got some pennies and a shilling. I do like to have nice things to think of. I wish Francie would be quick, I do so want to tell him, or do you think I should keep it a surprise for him?'
And she danced about in her eager delight, which at last woke Miss Baby, who opened her eyes and stared about her, with a sleepy smile of content on her plump rosy face. She was a picture of a child, and so easy minded. It is wonderful, to be sure, how children brought up like little birds in one nest yet differ from each other. I began to feel very satisfied that I should never regret having come to Treluan.
CHAPTER V
THE SHOP IN THE VILLAGE
Before many days had passed I felt quite settled down. The weather was most lovely for some time just then, and this I think always helps to make one feel more at home in a strange place. That first day, and for two or three following, we could not go long walks, as I had really so much to see to indoors. Miss Bess had to make up her mind to wait as patiently as she could, till other things were attended to, for the doing up of her room, and, what I was more sorry for, poor Miss Lally had also to wait about beginning the knitting she had so set her heart on.
I think it was the fourth day after our arrival that I began at last to feel pretty clear. All the nursery drawers and cupboards tidied up and neatly arranged; the children's clothes looked over and planned about for the rest of the summer. My lady went over them with me, and I could see that it was a comfort to her to feel assured that I understood the need for economy, and prided myself, thanks to my good old mother, on neat patches and darns quite as much as on skill on making new things. My poor lady – it went to my heart to see how often she would have liked to get fresh and pretty frocks and hats for the young ladies, for she had good taste and great love of order. But after all there is often a good deal of pleasure in contriving and making the best of what one has.