The eldest Miss Crofton was enthusiastically delighted when the intelligence of Mrs. Baldwin's unexpected return to Chayleigh reached her, which was on the morning after the event. It was very natural that she should like the importance which she acquired in the small but almost distressingly respectable circle of society in which she "moved," as the unaccountable phrase in use goes, from her position in regard to Mrs. Baldwin. To her the Willises, &c., looked for the latest intelligence concerning Margaret; to her the excellent, if rather too inexorably managing, wife of the rector of the parish--a lady known to the population as "the Reverend Mrs. Carroll"--intrusted the task of procuring donations from Mr. Baldwin for a startling number of "charitable purposes," and through the discursive medium of her letters Haldane conducted his correspondence by proxy with his sister.
The eldest Miss Crofton entertained one supreme ambition. It was that she might become Margaret's "particular friend," confidante, and, eventually, favourite sister-in-law. She had not as yet attained any of the degrees of the position to which she aspired, but that slight impediment by no means interfered with her assumption, for the edification of her friends and the general public, of the completed character.
She entertained considerable jealousy of Lady Davyntry, who was, she argued, in her frequent cogitations on this subject, much older than Margaret, and "not a bit more" her sister-in-law than she (Lucy Crofton) was destined to be at no distant time. She was particularly well pleased to learn that Lady Davyntry had not accompanied her brother and his wife on their return to England, and promised herself, within five minutes of her having learned that Margaret was at Chayleigh, that she would make the most of the opportunity now open to her.
It was not altogether, it was indeed not much, from self-interest, or any mean variety of that pervading meanness, that the eldest Miss Crofton proposed to herself to be "great friends" with Mrs. Baldwin; there was a good deal of real girlish enthusiasm about her, and it found a natural outlet in the direction of vehement admiration for the sister of her future husband,--admiration not disturbed by any perception or suspicion of her own inferiority. Such a suspicion was by no means likely to suggest itself to Lucy Crofton in connection with any one, especially at the present interesting and important epoch of her life--for she knew, as well as any young lady in England, how to exploiter the great fact of being "engaged."
As for Margaret, she liked the pretty, lively, passably well-bred girl well enough for her own, and was resolved to like her better, and to befriend her in every possible way, for her brother's, sake; but a missish intimacy of the kind which Lucy longed for was completely foreign to her tastes and habits. While Lucy Crofton pleased herself by commenting on the similarity between them in point of age, Margaret was trying to realise that such was actually the case, trying to realise that she had ever been young, putting a strong constraint upon herself to turn her mind into the same groove as that in which the girl's mind ran. Between herself and all the thoughts, plans, hopes, and pleasures of girlhood lay a deep and wide gulf, not formed alone of the privileges and duties of her present position, not fashioned by her unusual gravity and strength of character, but the work of the past--an enduring monument of the terrible truths which had sent her of late a terrible memento.
Thus it happened that when Margaret received a note profusely underlined, and crowded with interjections, superlatives, all kinds of epistolary explosives from the eldest Miss Crofton, announcing her intention of coming a little later to pass a "delightful long afternoon" with her darling friend, she experienced a sudden accession of weariness of spirit which communicated itself to her aspect, and attracted the attention of her father, who immediately asked her if anything ailed her.
"Nothing whatever, papa," replied Margaret; and informed him after a minute or so that Lucy was coming to see her.
Provided Lucy did not come to Chayleigh accompanied by her wonderfully clever little brother, and did not pester him with questions intended to evince her lively interest in his collection, which, however, manifested much more clearly her profound ignorance of all its components, Mr. Carteret was perfectly indifferent to her movements. She did not interest him, but she was perfectly respectable, eligible, and, he understood, amiable; and if she interested Haldane, that was quite enough for him. A simple sincerity, which never degenerated into rudeness, characterised Mr. Carteret; and he perfectly understood the distinction between saying what he did not think and leaving much that he did think unsaid--a useful branch of practical science, social and domestic. So he made no comment on Margaret's reply.
But Hayes Meredith, who had not yet seen Captain Carteret's future bride, was rather curious about her, and addressed a question concerning her to Margaret, which she, being in an absent mood, did not hear. Mr. Baldwin answered promptly and expansively, giving Lucy Crofton praise for good looks, good manners, good abilities, and good temper. The three men went on to talk of Haldane, his promotion, his general prospects, and the time fixed for his marriage, which was not to take place until the autumn. During this conversation Margaret rose from the breakfast-table, and stood thoughtfully beside the fire, and Robert Meredith employed himself in listening to the talkers and watching her face.
"Amiable creature!" he thought--and the sneer which was strangely habitual to so young a face settled upon his lips as he thus mentally apostrophised her--"you don't care a pin for the girl; you are bored by her coming here, and she's a long way prettier than ever you were, fine lady as you think yourself."
Then, as Margaret looked up, with a bright flush on her face, with the air of one who suddenly remembers, or has something painful or embarrassing suggested by a passing remark, the boy thought--
"I shouldn't wonder if she's jealous of this pretty girl, who has always been a lady, and knows nothing about the low life and ruffianism she could tell her of."
Wide of the mark as were the speculations of the boy, in whose mind a dislike of Margaret, strong in proportion to its causelessness, had taken root, he was not wrong in assigning the change in Margaret's expression from reverie to active painful thought to something in which Lucy Crofton was concerned.
She had been informed of her brother's plans; but in the strangely combined distraction and concentration of her mind since her trouble had fallen upon her--trouble which each day was lightening for removing from her husband--she had almost forgotten them, she had never taken them into consideration as among the circumstances which she must influence, or which might influence her. The words which had roused her from her reverie reminded her she had something to do in this matter.
"Why is Haldane's marriage put off till the summer?" she said.
"It is not put off," said James. "There never was any idea of its taking place sooner, that I know of;--was there, sir?"
"No," said Mr. Carteret, "I think not.--Indeed, Margery, I fancy it was so settled with a view to your being at home then. We did not think you would come home so soon, you know."
"When is Haldane coming here, papa?
"Very soon. Early next month he hopes to get leave."
Margaret said no more, and the party shortly afterwards dispersed for their several morning avocations.
James Dugdale's attention had been caught by Margaret's look and manner when she spoke of her brother's marriage. He discerned something painful in her mind in reference to it, but he could not trace its nature, and he could not question her just then.
Margaret went to her room, and seated in her old place by the window--its floral framework bore no blossom now--thought out the subject which had come into her mind.
Miss Crofton arrived punctually, and found the drawing-room into which she was shown--very much against her will, for she would have preferred a tumultuous rush upstairs, and the entrée to the nursery region--occupied only by Robert Meredith. They had met during Hayes Meredith's expedition to London, and Lucy, though an engaged young lady, and therefore, of course, impervious to the temptations of coquetry, had perceived with quite sufficient distinctness that this "remarkably nice boy," as she afterwards called him, thought her very pretty, and found her rattling, rapid, girlish talk--which had the delightful effect of setting him quite at his ease--very attractive.
Nothing could be more ridiculous, of course; but then nothing was more common than for very young persons of the male sex (somehow, Miss Lucy avoided calling him a "boy" in her thoughts) to "take a fancy" to girls or women much older than themselves; and in some not clearly-explained or distinctly-understood way, it was supposed to be very "safe" for them to do so. She had no objection to the admiration even of so young an admirer as Robert Meredith, and she was pleased as well as amused by the candid and unequivocal pleasure which Robert manifested on seeing her. The youthful colonial did not suffer in the least from the disease of shyness, and was pleasantly unembarrassed in the presence of the eldest Miss Crofton.
The two had had time to talk over the unexpected return of Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin; and Miss Crofton, who was by no means deficient in perception, had had an opportunity of observing that her young admirer did not share her enthusiasm for Margaret, but was, on the contrary, distinctly cold and disdainful in the few remarks which he permitted himself to make concerning her, before Margaret made her appearance. When she did so, and Miss Crofton had started up and rapturously embraced her, that young lady and Robert Meredith alike remarked simultaneously that she was startlingly pale.
After a great many questions had been asked by Lucy and answered by Margaret, in whose manner there was an indefinable change which her friend felt very soon, and which puzzled her, Margaret took Miss Crofton upstairs for an inspection of little Gertrude and the "thoroughly confidential" talk for which Lucy declared herself irrepressibly eager.
"If she knew--if she only knew--this pure, harmless creature," Margaret thought, with a pang of fierce pain as Lucy Crofton hugged the child and talked to her, and appealed to the nurse in support of her admiration, for which Gerty was poutingly ungrateful,--"if she did but know how it has been with me since we last met, and how it is with my child!"
"Yon are shivering, Margaret. You seem very cold. Let me poke the fire up before we settle ourselves. And now tell me all about yourself, how you really are; of course one could not ask before that young Meredith. I want to see his father so much. By the bye, Haldane told me you knew him so well in Australia. You don't look very well, I think, but you are much stronger than when you went abroad."
"I am much stronger," said Margaret. "But before I talk about myself, and I have a deal to tell you,"--Miss Crofton was delighted,--"I want to talk to you about yourself and Haldane."
Miss Crofton was perfectly willing to enter on so congenial a subject, and she told Margaret all about the arrangements, which included many festive proceedings, to which the girl naturally attached pleasurable anticipations. When she had reached that portion of the programme which included the names and dresses of the bridesmaids, she stopped abruptly, and said with some embarrassment:
"Why do you look so grave, Margaret?--is anything wrong?" Then she added, before Margaret could speak, "Ah, I know, you don't like a gay wedding; I remember how quiet your own was; but, you see, it would seem so odd if mine wasn't gay, and besides, I like it; it's not the same, you know."
"I know, dear," Margaret said very gently, "it is not at all the same thing, and I can quite understand your wishing to have a gay wedding. But I want you to listen to me, and to do what I am going: to ask you. It is something in which you can do me a great service."
This was delightful, this was being the "great friend," indeed this was very like being the favourite sister-in-law. So Lucy promptly knelt down by Margaret's chair, and putting her arm round her, assured her, with much emphasis, of her readiness to do anything she could for her pleasure.
There was a short pause, during which Margaret looked at the girl with a grave sweet smile, and took her disengaged hand; then she spoke:
"Haldane is coming here very soon, my father tells me. What leave has he got?
"A month."
"Now Lucy, don't be astonished, and don't say no at once. I want you to be married during his leave, instead of waiting until the autumn."
"Margaret! Why?" asked Lucy, in a tone which fully expressed all the surprise she had been requested not to feel.
"I will tell you, Lucy. In a short time I am likely to have another baby. You did not know that, at least you did not know it was to be so soon; and I am very, very anxious--so anxious, that if I cannot have my own way in this it will be very bad for me--that your marriage should be over before a time comes when I may be very ill--you know I was very ill indeed after Gerty's birth."
"I know," said Lucy, still with the surprised look.
"And I feel sure, dear Lucy, that if you are not married until the summer I shall not be here."
"Not be here, Margaret! You surely do not mean--"
"I mean nothing to frighten you, Lucy, but I do mean this. I have not been well lately, and I have been sent away as you know; I ought not to be here now, the doctors would say--but it cannot be helped; we were obliged to come to England, and I may be sent away again, and not be able to go to your wedding. In short, Lucy," and here Mrs. Baldwin lost her composure, "I have set my heart on this. ............