Lonesome Road

Chapter Thirteen

Rachel got back to find that she had missed Mrs. Barber by a comfortable margin. Ella, meeting her in the hall, remarked on how unfortunate this was.

“Away yesterday, out today. I only hope, Rachel, that she won’t think you want to avoid her. Of course quite ridiculous, because she is such an exceptionally interesting and charming person, and I know she particularly wanted to talk to you about slum clearance.”

Cosmo Frith, emerging from the study, demanded why any human being should imagine that any other human being should want to talk about slums. He slipped his arm through Rachel’s and kissed her on the cheek.

“Well, my dear, I needn’t ask how you are. You look fine. And who was the cavalier? Wouldn’t he stay to lunch-or didn’t you ask him? I thought he looked pretty well pleased with himself as he drove away.”

Rachel laughed. Her color was bright.

“Oh, I asked him, but he had to get back. It was Mr. Brandon, the American who has taken the Halketts’ house for the winter. I thought you had met.”

“No. Fancies himself, doesn’t he?”

Rachel laughed again.

“I think he fancies everything, and that includes himself. I’ve never met anyone who enjoys things so much. We’ve been shopping Christmas presents.”

Cosmo looked exactly like a child who hears another child praised. He was a handsome man of forty-five. His gray hair set off a fresh complexion and a pair of fine dark eyes with well marked brows. His waist measurement was rather larger than it had been a year or two ago, and there were moments when he feared a double chin. He withdrew his arm and said with a lift of the eyebrows,

“Christmas presents-in November? What a nauseating idea!”

“And why nauseating?” inquired Ella Comperton. “I think this modern fashion of laughing at Christmas is a terrible sign of the times. My dear mother always used to say, ‘Ah, it isn’t the gift-it’s the loving preparation that counts,’ and we used to be set down to our Christmas presents as soon as the summer holidays were over.”

“Horrible!” said Cosmo. “But I suppose that the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children hadn’t been invented then.” He turned to Rachel. “And what were you and Mr. Brandon lovingly preparing?”

“Chocolates, and toys, and gloves, and handbags and stockings for a lot of young people. He didn’t really need me at all. He knew exactly what he wanted.”

They went in to lunch. Cosmo as usual monopolized the conversation, a good deal to the annoyance of the Wadlows and Miss Comperton. Maurice and Cherry having departed, their parents wished to talk about them. Ella wished to talk about slums. She had come primed from Mrs. Barber, and she wished to pose as an expert. But there was no talking against Cosmo. He told anecdotes, and laughed at them heartily in a deep, rollicking voice. He narrated the inner history of the Guffington divorce. He gave them the reasons which had led the ultra-particular Lady Walbrook to give her consent to her daughter’s marriage to a very notorious gentleman, Mr. Demosthenes Ryland. He had inside information as to the exact circumstances in which that rising star Seraphine had broken her Hollywood contract. Not that he neglected the excellent food with which he was served. He appeared to be able to eat and talk at the same time.

Rachel was quite pleased to listen. She could laugh at Cosmo, but she was very fond of him, and she was very glad to have an alternative to the Wadlows and their young, or Ella on slums.

The evil hour was, however, only postponed. As soon as lunch was over Mabel demanded an interview, and a very long, tearful and trying interview it proved to be, under such headings as a Mother’s Love, a Mother’s Anxieties, a Sister’s Heart, and, by implication, a Sister’s Purse.

Rachel did her best to endure the Mother’s Love, to soothe the Mother’s Anxieties, and to display the Sister’s Heart, whilst keeping a reasonably firm hand upon the Sister’s Purse. It was all very difficult and very, very exhausting.

When Mabel had at last been induced to lie down, there was Ernest, with a Father’s Anxieties and a Father’s Responsibilities.

Retiring to her room after this encounter, Rachel found herself pursued by her cousin Ella, tall, raw-boned, and purposeful, with a small attaché-case full of pamphlets and photographs.

“Most disappointing that you should have missed Mrs. Barber. I am a very poor substitute, but I promised her faithfully that I would do my very best to interest you.”

She was still there when Louisa Barnet came in to draw the curtains. She rose regretfully and began to pack the attaché-case.

“The time has simply flown-hasn’t it? I must go and wash my hands for tea, but I’ll leave you those pamphlets. Dear me, Rachel, you look quite tired. I hope you didn’t do too much this morning. Most inconsiderate of Mr. Brandon, I call it.” The door closed behind her.

Louisa rattled the curtain rings.

“Fair wore out is what you look, Miss Rachel, And it’s not what you did this morning that’s to blame neither.”

She got rather a wan smile as she turned.

“Well, I don’t think it is, Louie. You know what Miss Ella is. She’d got those papers on her mind, and she was bound to show them to me.”

Louisa looked angrily at the pamphlets.

“What’s it now? She doesn’t stick to nothing, does she? Last time it was lepers, and the time before that it was naked heathen cannibals. And what I say is, if they was made that way, then it was for some good purpose, and it’s not for us nor yet for Miss Ella to go flying in the face of Providence. Interferingness-that’s what it is, and you can’t get from it!”

Rachel bit her lip.

“But, Louie, Providence didn’t make lepers or cannibals, and He certainly didn’t make slums.”

Louisa gloomed.

“That’s what you say, Miss Rachel. I’ve got my own ideas, and I’m not the only one. And it’s no good talking about lepers and cannibals to me when I see you looking as white as a sheet, and saucers under your eyes for all the world as if they were full of ink. You’ll never be going over to see Mrs. Capper tonight?”

“Oh, yes-she counts on it. And I like going, you know. She’ll be a pleasant change, because she always tells me what a nice little girl I used to be, and when we’ve finished with me we go over all the other children she nursed. I sometimes think how odd it would be if we could all meet.”

Louisa took no interest in Mrs. Capper’s charges. It annoyed her to think that there had been a time when Mrs. Capper had brushed Miss Rachel’s hair and turned down her bed. Rachel’s visits to her old nurse were a source of irritation, and she never let slip an opportunity of suggesting that it was too wet or too cold, or that Rachel was too busy or too tired.

“That Miss Silver is coming at half past five, Miss Rachel. You’ll want to be in.”

Rachel couldn’t help laughing.

“Her train gets in at half past five-she won’t be here before six. I shall be back quite soon after that. Put my torch in the hall and hang out the lantern. Barlow can drop me before he goes to the station, and I’ll come back by the cliff.”