Norton, Andre - Novel 23 (4 page)

 
          
 
She had not been really aware of that at the
time—only now. He had dismissed her so easily into Honora’s care, Saranna
frowned. At least he had mentioned Mother's plan for her as a teacher, and
seemed to think that her desire for an education was praiseworthy. But—could
she depend upon his help? Suppose he would agree to allow her to return to Miss
Seeton's this summer, give her funds enough to pay her way? Surely he might be
eager to be rid of his responsibility for her. Would she have a chance to suggest
that before he left? The time was so short.

 
          
 
Now that Saranna had time to examine his words
without his presence, she was a little chilled. He had seemed so friendly in
his manner. But he would soon be gone, leaving her to Honora. And of Honora's
lack of friendliness, she had no doubt at all.

 
          
 
What was she going to do? All her pride
stirred. To stay on here as Honora's pensioner, that would be like being a
prisoner. If she could just see Jethro once more, this time have him listen to
her — Impatience possessed Saranna. She wanted nothing more than to confront
her brother tonight, get this matter settled. And yet she knew she had no
chance at all.

 
          
 
Though the bed was soft, the covers above her
warm, she could not get to sleep. Plans formed in her mind, only to be
discarded as useless. She was caught in the trap of her age and sex—a young
female had to listen to her guardian, which in truth, Jethro now was. She had
no resource but to obey his wishes. The realization of that aroused again the
deep anger within her.

 
          
 
At last, she fell into an uneasy sleep and a
dream. Before her loomed a hedge, untrimmed or curbed, which rose far above her
head. The green of the leaves on those close-packed bushes which formed the
barrier was dark, close to black. Yet there was no somberness or menace in its
shadowy length. Instead, Saranna was filled with an excitement which made her
heart beat faster; an eagerness to see what lay beyond moved her. She raised
both hands to catch at branches, force them aside so she could see—what? She
did not know, save that it was wonderful and waited just for her.

 
          
 
From that dream she aroused to see an edge of
sunlight around the close-drawn drapery of her window. Millie stood
beside
her bed holding a small tray on which was a covered
cup.

 
          
 
"Miss," her soft voice drove away
the last of that dream, "Miss Honora, she says can you come see her
soon—"

 
          
 
"Why?" asked Saranna before she
thought. Naturally, Honora would not tell the maid.

 
          
 
"She mighty pleased about somethin', Miss
Honora is,” was Millie's oblique answer. By her tone, Saranna could guess that
what pleased Honora might not be entirely acceptable to others. But that she
had already deduced.

 
          
 
There was little choice she could make in
clothing. But she dared to wear a white chemisette with fine muslin inner
sleeves, instead of the dead black in which she had traveled. Her gown was so
shabby that she needed the extra sense of support that vestee would give her.
However, she scrapped her hair well back under the black cap she had so
hurriedly fashioned, hoping that might balance her small defiance of true
mourning dress.

 
          
 
She drank the chocolate Millie had brought in
the cup and glanced once more in the mirror. Primish looks, very proper,
perhaps she should also assume, she thought bitterly, a subdued expression
suitable for a family pensioner? No I They must take her as she really was. She
intended to play no meek role merely to gain anyone's good graces.

 
          
 
"Saranna, good morning—" Honora
still wore her favorite half mourning, but this time her matinee robe and skirt
were of lavender, bearing creamy white lace ruffling and banding. She was
settled before a silver coffee service as hostess in the breakfast room to
which Saranna had been directed.

 
          
 
Jethro was eating a slice of ham with the
gusto of one who thoroughly enjoyed the
excellency
of
the dishes set before him.

 
          
 
"Good morning,” he swallowed visibly
before he echoed his daughter's greeting. "What will you have, m'dear? The
ham is choice. We have to thank Honora for that—comes in from Tiensin, the
Whaley Manor upriver. Potatoes, biscuits—" He did not look directly at
Saranna, rather enumerated the contents of the various serving dishes. Then,
again not waiting for any word of preference from Saranna, he carved a plate of
ham, spooned the potatoes he had recommended, together with a square of light
bread, and handed the plate to the hovering serving maid who placed it before
the girl.

 
          
 
"Time—" Jethro shook his head. He
had pulled his large watch from his waistcoat pocket, snapped open the case, to
frown at the dial.
"Never enough time.
I will
have to be going, a long, long day for me. Must make sure all is well before I
leave. My dear, Honora has an excellent plan which she suggested to me only
this morning, one which I think you will 'find most advantageous in every way.
She will explain it all to you—"

 
          
 
He was already on his feet, heading for the
door. As it had been the evening before, her half brother gave Saranna no
chance at all to answer or protest. She watched the door close with a finality
which definitely left her in Honora's dubious charge.

 
          
 
"Poor Father—before he sails it is always
this way." Honora shook her head, sending the long lace streamers of her
cap floating gently beside the most carefully arranged curls of massed hair.
"There are so many matters he must make sure of that he is quite fatigued
when he finally goes aboard. The voyage will give him the rest he needs. Now—
Saranna," she spoke more briskly. "As you are in deep mourning—"
her eyes flicked at that white chemisette as she spoke, "you will want
peace and quiet. Father has certain social obligations which I have agreed to
carry on during his absence. Thus, I do not think you would be comfortable here
where there will be a goodly amount of entertaining.

 
          
 
"But at Tiensin, it will be very
different. It is most quiet there, and Mrs. Parton is an excellent housekeeper
and will make you very comfortable. She is a quite genteel sort of female, and
one in whom I have placed a good amount of trust. You see—" Honora
hesitated, "I do not know what you may have heard of my own obligations,
Saranna, but I do have one which is enough to make anyone heavy-hearted.

 
          
 
"I was Richard Whaley's second wife. His
first wife, Laura, died when poor Damaris was born. Laura was a
Hampton
, and, unfortunately, there is a weak strain
in that family— an excitation of nerves which has affected several of the
women. In the past, it has been necessary that at least two of them live in
seclusion with suitable companions. Do you understand—?"

 
          
 
That she must be hinting delicately at some
type of mental derangement, Saranna guessed. And she nodded.

 
          
 
Honora apparently accepted that as
encouragement for greater confidences.

 
          
 
"Richard's father doted on Damaris—he would
not ever acknowledge that, young as she then was, she showed already some signs
of this nervous disorder. And after Richard's death, his own followed within a
year. It was then we discovered just how blindly foolish Captain Whaley had
been, how he had refused to accept those signs which were so plain to us. He
had left Tiensin and most of his other wealth to Damans. Luckily, he had
appointed a guardian, of course— my father. And I have the overseeing of her
upbringing and education. But, poor thing, that she has any future, we doubt
—nothing beyond a very quiet life, well supervised, at Tiensin. We must make
very sure that she is not taken advantage of as she grows older, and that she
is guarded from a world in which she would be utterly lost.

 
          
 
"Now you have planned to be a teacher—and
Damaris has no governess at present. The woman on
which
we have been depending proved to be a superstitious fool, listening to slaves'
gossip. It was necessary to get rid of her on very short notice. Thus I am
deeply concerned about the poor child. If you would be obliging enough to be
her companion until we can find someone able to give her the care she
needs—"

 
          
 
"I have had no experience as a
nurse." Saranna took advantage of the first pause in Honora's flow of
words to object. Like her father, Honora apparently cultivated the art of talk
to the exclusion of any real give and take of conversation.

 
          
 
"Oh, I have given you the wrong
impression," Honora shook her head as if aghast at her mistake.
"Damaris is not ill. She is only one who needs to be talked out of the
strange fancies which she clings to. She has a very odd belief about a derelict
portion of the garden which we try not to allow her to dwell upon. In fact, if
you can keep her from roaming about there and persuade her not to believe in
her own imagined people, then you will succeed mightily. Who knows, perhaps you
may even work the miracle we have so long hoped for and banish Damaris' fancies
entirely.

 
          
 
"Much of her difficulties I truly believe
is
the fact that her early upbringing was too much
under the control of Captain Whaley. He had lived in
China
for many years as a representative of a
large shipping interest there. When he rebuilt Tiensin—
“
Honora
actually shivered a little, "well, he brought in all sorts
of queer heathenish things. He even imported servants from
China
—though he sent them back again years ago
when the house was finally completed. Richard always said the Manor was full of
what he called treasures—

 
          
 
"Unfortunately, Damans believes, too,
that these strange old things are precious. She has become very upset on
occasion when some have been moved, or stored away. And it has been necessary
to watch her if this happens, for she flies into an actual screaming rage. But
I know that you will be most careful, now that you have been warned.

 
          
 
"Really, you have nothing to fear. Mrs.
Parton has reported that Damaris has been very settled and docile since the
governess left, and I know that you will find her eager to learn. She does have
a quick mind. Too quick at times— especially when she builds upon something she
hears or thinks she sees and then swears that her dreams are true. Now—very
luckily, I have been able to arrange a way for you to reach Tiensin with the
least trouble. Mr. Fowke is going upriver on his private sloop taking some
supplies and workmen for the rebuilding of his own manor which is next to
Tiensin. He very kindly offered to let you travel with him. I believe he plans
to leave at ten. I am giving you Millie— she has not settled down well here in
the city. I think it is better that she be under Mrs. Parton's supervision for
a while again—"

 
          
 
As she spoke, Honora rolled her napkin and
inserted it into the silver ring near her plate.

 
          
 
"Such a busy morning—I have shopping to
do—
“ Once
more her gaze rested for a deprecating
second or two on Saranna's dress. "By the way, you have said you can sew—
there are some of my dresses in storage. Mrs. Parton will show you—feel free to
make good use of them. You will have time in plenty on your hands
upriver."

 
          
 
"But—" To have her immediate future
so finally and abruptly settled had left Saranna astounded. However, Honora was
already on her way out of the room. If she heard that first word of intended
protest, she was not going to admit it or wait for any refusal Saranna might
utter.

 
          
 
And how
could she
refuse, the girl admitted glumly to herself as she was left alone to face a now
fast-chilling plate of far too heavy food. She had to depend on the Stowells, and
both Jethro and Honora knew it. She had now no choice at all. Moodily she cut
off a small bite of ham and chewed it relentlessly, wishing she had an
efl&cacious way of dealing with Honora.