These Delights (23 page)

They had just started tea however when Corky burst into the room. His face was working, and he held a bunch of letters in his hand.

“I told you they was up to something, Miss Hester,” he cried. “I knew all along there was something going on. They’ve go
rn
.”

“Gone?” said Hester sharply. “Gone where?”

“
Back
to France.”

Luke looked up quickly.

“Pull yourself tog
e
ther, Corky,” he said. “They couldn’t possibly have gone to France. Someone’s pulling your leg.”

Corky looked more like a melancholy monkey than ever. “I wish to gawd they was, Mr. Luke, sir,” he said, “but it’s gospel truth. There’s letters—one for me and one for you and one for Miss Hester, and even one for Mr. Bowden. Fair turned me up, it ‘as, and I wouldn’t ‘ave found them except that I fan
ci
ed me tea in a mug, and took down me spe
ci
al wot I never uses till I ‘as me cocoa of a night,
wh
i
ch
Miss Vicky knew, see, and there was these bloomin’ letters stuck inside.”

He stood there, twisting his fingers together, while Luke and Hester read their letters. They were loving, regretful little notes full of gratitude, and anxiety that no distress should be caused by their abrupt departure, and they were signed by all three. At the bottom of Luke’s note, Vicky had written: “Good-bye, my dear, dear Luke. I am so sorry to have caused you any personal inconvenience.”

“But this is outrageous!” exclaimed Luke. “What on earth do they imagine they’ll do when they get there? We must get them back if it’s humanly possible. Corky, what time did they go?”

“About one it must ‘a bin, ‘cos I know I ‘ad the lunch all ready and nobody there to eat it,” replied Corky.

“Well, I don’t think they’d get far,” said Hester calmly. “They had no money.
”

“Excuse me, Miss ‘Ester, they ‘ad,” said Corky, his aspirates rather more elusive than usual in his distress. “I seed that Lou with a wad of notes in ‘is ‘and when he come back from the village in the morning.”

Hester’s eyes were suddenly shrewd.

“I wonder,” she said slowly, “if Diana could possibly have had anything to do with this. It’s funny she should be coming to see you tomorrow, the very day after the children have gone.”

“I’ll soon find out,” said Luke, and went to the telephone.

But Diana was out, and it was not known when she was expected back. Sir Harry was there, but it was unlikely he would know anything, and Luke rang off, and then asked to be put through to North Road station.

“
They’re bound to go from Plymouth,” he said. “The question is, by what route?”

“Southampton, I should imagine, as they came that way,” said Hester. “You’d better go back to the kitchen, Corky. We’ll tell you when we have any information.”

“The London train has gone,” called Luke from the telephone in the hall. “There’s one to Southampton in about an hour. The station-master’s gone to see if he can spot them
.
”

Hester drank some tea while she waited, and was grateful for the hot liquid which she swallowed with difficulty. Luke came back into the room.

“They’re there,
thank
God!” he said. “I’ll drive in and collect them. What on earth do you suppose made them run off like that? I thought they were behaving oddly yesterday evening. I suppose this plan had been hatching.”

“Have some tea before you go, you’ve plenty of time,” she said quietly. “It’s obviously Vicky’s plan. Either you gave her a wrong impression or Diana’s got at her. Vicky wouldn’t run away from you, Luke.”

He remembered her last night, a little strange and so very tired, saying, “Good night, my dear, dear love
...
” She had been saying good-bye to him and he had not known it.

“The crazy, quixotic, beloved little fool!” he exclaimed, “I’ve a good mind to spank her when I get her
back
.”

Hester smiled.

“Spank her if you must,” she said, “but tell her the truth about things this time. I think there is no need to consider Diana’s feelings any longer.”

Corky came in with a telegram “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another! I ‘ope it don’t say there’s been an accident to them kids,
”
he remarked, handing it to Luke.

L
uke
read it slowly, then folded it carefully and put it in his pocket.

“It’s all right, Corky,
”
he said. “No answer.
”

He looked at Hester as the door closed again, and his eyes were grave.

“There’s no question where the children belong now,
”
he said. “Dennis is dead.”

He saw them at once as he reached the platform. They sat together on an empty seat with the rain blowing in on them, looking very forlorn. They had been sitting there for nearly three hours, for Pauline distrusted the ways of trains and was afraid they might miss theirs unless they watched each one go out, and they were all three cold and hungry. Lou was the first to see Luke, and he welcomed him with much relief. Running away to France had long ceased to be an adventure to him.

“Luke! Luke!” he shouted. “There’s Luke! He will take us away now, yes?”

Luke stood looking down at them without speaking for a moment, and his eyes travelled to Vicky’s pinched little face.

“I’ve come to fetch you home,” he said quietly.

“I’m ready,” cried Lou, jumping up, but Vicky pulled him back.

“I don’t know how you knew so soon, Luke, but you must let us go,” she said.

“Corky fancied his mug for his tea and found your letters too early,” he said. “I really couldn’t possibly have you running off like this, you know. Now, will you come?”

“Vicky,” said Pauline, “it is only practical. Luke can make arrangements for us later.”

“No,” said Vi
ck
y bleakly. “You go back if you wish, but I must go on.”

Luke looked at her with compassion.

“There is a good reason why none of you can go on,” he said gently. “Vicky, your father is dead.”

There were no tears, only a stunned silence, broken at length by Lou who said anxiously:

“Louis is not dead, too, is he?”

“No, Lou. You will be able to go and study with Dalcroix just the same.”

“Oh, poor Papa
...
and none of us with him
...”
said Vicky.

“He was too ill to need us,” said Pauline practically. “He had not written to us for a long time.”

“No, that’s true. Perhaps he is happy now. Then we—we have no home?”

“Yes, Vicky, you have,” Luke said steadily. “Your home is mine now. Will you come?”

They got up quietly and followed him out of the station.

During the drive back, Luke explained the plans which he and Hester had worked out for them in the event of their father’s death, but he asked them no questions about today’s events. That could wait
.
Pauline and Lou on the back seat, though subdued, were most obviously much relieved at the turn their fortunes had taken. They could grieve for their father, but to them, Luke was already so much more real than that shadowy figure who had been the background of their lives in France. Only Vicky, sitting beside him, held herself very erect and said nothing at all.

Corky was watching for them, as Luke drove up to the farm.

“Well, nice goings on, I must say!” he observed as they
c
ame thankfully into the house. “I always knew you was up to something with that rabbit’s basket, going off with no vittles in your stomachs, either.”

“I’m starved,” said Pa
u
line frankly, and Lou shouted: “Me too!”

“Come into me kitchen, then, and I’ll get you a square meal,” said Corky.

Vicky went into the living-room and stood looking about her with dazed eyes. The books, the firelight, the berries she had picked yesterday, were just the same. Luke, behind her, closed the door on the others, and Hester rose to greet her.

“
Oh, Hester
...
Cousin Hester
...”
she cried, and threw herself sobbing into Hester’s
arms.

“H
ush, darling, hush
...”
Hester’s voice was unsteady, too.
“
It
’
s all right, now. You’ve come home, Vicky, and no one shall send you away again. He’s a clumsy idiot, my brother Luke, isn’t he?”

“I?” said Luke, watching them both with tender eyes.

“
Yes, you,
”
she retorted.
“
A few proper explanations and none of this would have happened.”

“Oh,” said Vicky into her shoulder, “I’m so muddled.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Hester severely. “The last few weeks have been enough to muddle Socrates.”

Vicky began to laugh through her tears.

“Lou once had a frog called Socrates,” she said.

Hester smiled and released her.

“
Now, dry your eyes, or finish crying on Luke’s shoulder,
”
she said. “He wants to talk to you and I’m go
ing
out to the kitchen to see how much Corky is pampering Pauline and Lou. Let me know when you’ve done, Luke, and we’ll find her something to eat.”

The door closed and they were left alone in the firelight. It was nearly dark now, but no one had remembered to bring in the lamp.

“Well,” said Luke. “do you want to finish crying on my shoulder?”

She tried to smile,
blinking the tears from her lashes.

“
Come here,
”
said Luke, holding out his arms, and she ran to him
.
“You silly, exasperating little idiot! Do you
know what I said I was going to do when I got you back here?” She shook her head. “Spank you!
Shall I do it?”

“
If it would make you feel any better,” she said, and he kissed her instead.

“Now,” he said, his eyes suddenly
grave, “I want to get to the bottom of this. Where did you get the money to run away with?”

“Oh, we didn’t steal it, or even borrow it,”
she said
.

“I’m sure you didn’t Where did you get it? Did Diana give it to you, by any chance?”

“Yes,” she said wearily, and by degrees he got the story out of her of that meeting on Scaw Down.

“But didn’t she tell you about our engagement?” he asked.

“She said—I understood, that is—that you were to be married quite soon, and that we—I was an embarrassment to you,” she replied. “She said that was why you were sending me away.”

“My darling child, I broke with Diana nearly ten days ago.” He gave her a little shake. “Don’t you understand? Our engagement was over.”

“
You never told me,” she said.

“No. I should have done. I owed Diana no kind of loyalty if I had known it. I was sending you away so that by the time you came back, I should be free to ask you to marry me, and for no other reason.”

She could not seem to understand.

“Then she was lying when she said you wanted to let me down lightly, forget my infatuation I think she called it.”

“Of course she was. I wish to goodness I’d told you the whole story myself, it would have saved such a lot of heartbreak, wouldn’t it? But, as Hester says, I’m a clumsy idiot.”

“Oh, no,” she said, touchi
ng his face with loving hands. “
You ar
e
never clumsy, Luke, you are the gentle one—the beloved physician, and I am home again.” She sighed.

“Yes, you’re home again—this time for good,” he said. “Vicky—will you grieve very much for your father?”

“A little,” she said. “We all will, except perhaps Lou, who did not know him so well, for he was often sick. But no, we should not grieve for he is happier now. He always
missed Maman.
Luke, should we go for the funeral?”

“No, I don’t think so. He wouldn’t have wished it, and Dalcroix is seeing to everything. Later, I’ll go over myself and take Lou, and see the lawyers about affairs.”

She looked relieved, and he said with a smile, “So you see, sweetheart, your fortune was wrong. It will be I who will be crossing the water, and someone in England will give you a ring.” He put a hand under her chin and raised her face to his.

“Vicky,
darling, will you marry me, please?” he said.

I
t was much later when Hester came in with the
lamp
and found them sitting together in Luke’s big chair.

“Well, have you settled everything?” she asked, looking down at them with sympathetic eyes.

“Yes,” said Luke, smiling up at her. “Vicky won’t run away again. I’m anchoring her in the approved style—with a ring.”

“I’m glad—so very glad,” she said. “Bless you both.” She stooped and kissed first Vicky and then her brother.

Vicky blinked in the lamplight.

“
Will you like me for a sister-in-law, do you think?” she asked a little anxiously.

“Very much indeed, Vicky, though I’ve no doubt there’ll be times when I shall feel more like your mother than your sister-in-law.”

“And you will stay with us? You will not go awa
y
and leave me?”

Hester laughed.

“Oh, well, I don’t know about that,” she said. “Luke knows my views on married couples.”

“
But,
”
said Vicky simply, “it would not be the same without you. You are part of this house, of Luke, of me. He feels the same.”

Hester kissed her again.

“Well, we’ll see,” she said. “But thank you, Vicky, for wanting me, thank you very much, my dear. Now, I really do think you should have something to eat. Will you have it in the kitchen with the others, to save trays?”

Vicky sprang up, pulling Luke after her.

“But we must tell them!” she cried. “Of course, we must tell them. I hope Corky won’t mind.”

She ran down the passage to the kitchen and burst in upon them.

“Pauline! Lou! What do you think? I am to marry
Luke
—
me
! And he will be your brother as well as your cousin and that will seem very odd. Isn’t it wonderful? Am I not lucky?”

Luke, following more slowly with Hester, said:

“She’s like a child who’s to be given a treat. Is she too young, Hester?”

She touched his arm.

“No, my dear, this is just reaction,” she said. “It’s been rather a day of climax for her, and if she couldn’t let off steam with the other two, you’d probably have her being sick half the night. Let her be a child with a new treat. There’s time enough to grow up.”

“You’re very wise, aren’t you, Hester?” he said. “Get them to bed early tonight. I’m going over to the Manor after supper to return Diana her money. I won’t have her coming to the house tomorrow.”

Lou and Pauline, who had been hugging their sister, flew to embrace Luke, both talking at once. Even Corky, grinning in the background, was kissed.

“You don’t mind, do you, Corky?” Vi
ck
y asked him quite seriously.