A New Dawn Over Devon (13 page)

 15 
Surprise Visitor

An expensive roadster pulled to the front of Heathersleigh Hall one day in early July. The officially clad young man at the wheel got out and walked with confident bearing to the front door and sounded the knocker.

Sarah Minsterly appeared a few moments later.

“Good morning, ma'am,” said the visitor. “I am here to see Lady Rutherford and Miss Catharine and Miss Amanda.”

“I am afraid they are not at home,” replied the housekeeper.

“When do you expect them? I have come quite some distance.”

“I really could not say, sir. They went to the cottage for the afternoon.”

“The cottage?”

“Heathersleigh Cottage, just across the meadow and through the wood north of the house.”

“Perhaps I shall go see them there.”

“There is no road, sir—only a wagon road, that is.”

“Then I shall walk, if you would be good enough to point the way out for me.”

Forty minutes later, Maggie, Jocelyn, and the girls were on their hands and knees in the soft, moist earth of her tulip bed carefully digging up the spring bulbs for drying in the barn. Several geese were
making a racket, distracting them at the moment from hearing the footsteps coming through the wood.

Maggie herself was the first to observe the approach of a tall white-uniformed stranger who had just emerged from the wood and was now striding toward the cottage. She rose, wiping the dirt from her hands on her apron, assuming his business to be with her. The most belligerent goose, an elderly though vigorous male who considered himself proprietor and bodyguard of the place, had spotted him seconds before Maggie. He now scurried toward the newcomer in a screeching wrath of flapping flurry.

“Get back, you fool creature!” shouted Maggie, hurrying after him.

But nothing would stop the charge of the protective watch-bird now.

“He'll take a chunk of your flesh if you let him close to you, sir!” she cried. “If you value your leg, give him a swift kick with your foot!”

The newcomer did not require being told twice. He had grown up around just such pesky animals and knew their danger well enough. A well-aimed blow from his boot sent the unsuspecting fat white ball skidding backward. Its honking increased to a shrill frenzy, though it called off the attack and now waddled furiously in the opposite direction in fierce dudgeon, shrieking and honking to his comrades to join in the battle. Betsy had just emerged from the cottage, leaving the door open, and toward it the irate goose now bore, neck outstretched to at least double its normal length.

“Stop him!” cried Maggie. “He'll be the end of my quilt that's all laid out!”

She turned and made for the house as fast as her legs would carry her. Catherine, however, closer by half, jumped up and bolted after the white marauder.

“I'll get him!” cried the masculine voice whose owner had sent the bird on its present course. But Catharine's eyes were on the danger. Once on her feet and up to speed, she neither slowed nor glanced toward the sound.

Suddenly a white form dashed in front of her, intercepting the goose and moving to block the doorway. At full speed, Catharine crashed into him and sent both of them tumbling over one another into a bed of pansies bordering the walkway.

The stranger was first to regain his feet. He offered Catharine his hand.

“Thank you . . . Lieutenant Langham!” Catharine now suddenly exclaimed as for the first time she set eyes on his face. “I didn't recognize you at first. All I saw was a blur run in front of me.”

“I am sorry for my clumsiness,” the lieutenant laughed, pulling Catharine to her feet.

“But what are you doing here!” smiled Catharine exuberantly as her mother and Amanda came forward and greeted their visitor.

“I drove out for a visit,” he replied, shaking each of the other's hands. “Hello, Lady Rutherford, Hello, Miss Rutherford.—Hello,” he added to Maggie, extending his hand as she now walked up puffing. “You can be none other than the Mrs. McFee of whom I have heard so many loving reports. I am Terrill Langham. I hope I did not injure your goose.”

“I hope perhaps you
did
, Mr. Langham!” rejoined Maggie. “Nothing could please me more than to roast him for my supper. I don't know why I put up with the cantankerous thing.”

Lieutenant Langham laughed with delight.

“To what do we owe this unexpected appearance, Lieutenant?” said Jocelyn.

“I thought it was time I drove down to Devonshire for a visit.”

“I'm afraid your uniform is a sight,” said Catharine.

“Not to worry,” replied Langham, brushing himself off. “A little honest dirt is occasionally good for naval trousers and jackets.”

“Come inside,” said Maggie, “and we shall have tea.”

“I want to see this quilt I had a hand in saving from the destruction of the goose,” said the lieutenant as he followed his hostess through the open door.

“I've been laying out squares for weeks, sir,” said Maggie as they entered the kitchen. “If that creature had got inside, they would have been sent flying in every direction. I am greatly in your debt.”

A pleasant, lively talk around Maggie's table followed. An hour and a half later, the three Rutherford women walked leisurely with their visitor through the wood toward the meadow that led from Heathersleigh Cottage back to the Hall. They had made arrangements for Betsy to remain with Maggie and spend the night.

As they walked, Lieutenant Langham reflected how wonderful it was to see these three attractive and aristocratic women—a stately mother and her two grown daughters—in simple dresses, heavy shoes, and muslin aprons splotched with dirt from their work in
the tulip bed. The country bred a different outlook on life than was possible in London, he thought to himself. In his naval uniform—notwithstanding its own soiled spots from the goose incident—he was the most overdressed of them all!

Langham glanced from one to the other as they went, noting the sisterly resemblance between Amanda and Catharine, as well as the obvious affection and respect the two young women had for one another. The older was obviously more careworn, carrying a slight melancholy in her expression that hinted at experiences no young lady of her years should have had to endure. The younger was tall and robust and still possessed the exuberance and innocence of youth. He also detected a hint of mischief in her eyes, whose acquaintance he had already had occasion to witness a time or two on previous visits. She was attractive, even what he would call pretty, as well as nimble on her feet. But at the same time was nearly as big as he. She had the look of one who could take on the world, and probably would not be afraid to try. Neither of the two girls was so much younger than he at twenty-seven.

His glance now passed to Lady Rutherford. He was unable to keep his eyes from dwelling momentarily on the red mark that so defined her face. Yet she seemed serene and perfectly at ease with the blemish, and bore the aspect of a lady in whom the years had deepened a mature serenity with respect to who she was.

Why were some women, he wondered, chosen to bear tragedy, while others, it seemed, went through life unscathed by heartbreak? This was quite a family, he thought, that Commander Charles Rutherford and his son had left behind.

“Let's go by the stream!” said Catharine, bounding ahead.

“But that way is longer,” said Jocelyn.

“And more lovely. I haven't gone that path in ages.” Already Catharine was running ahead. “Come, Lieutenant Langham, I'll show you!”

By the time the rest of them reached the clearing in the pine wood, Catharine had already bounded across the vigorous little brook.

“Now I remember why I don't come this way,” laughed Jocelyn. “The stream is too wide. Catharine, my legs are not as long as yours!”

“It's easy, Mother—look!” replied Catharine. She leapt back and forth twice more with the ease of a deer.

Jocelyn laughed. “You were always my young athlete, Catharine! But it's not so easy at my age.”

“I don't want to get my feet wet either,” objected Amanda.

“I will help you across, Miss Rutherford,” said Lieutenant Langham.

Taking a run of several steps, he jumped over to join Catharine, then turned back at the water's edge and stretched his hand across to Amanda.

“Take my hand, Miss Rutherford, then just give a little jump. You will be over in no time.”

Amanda did so. Five seconds later she was safely on the bank beside Catharine.

“Now, Lady Rutherford . . .” said Langham, turning and reaching across again.

“I don't know if I—”

“You can do it,” encouraged the lieutenant.

“But I can't quite reach your hand.”

The lieutenant inched closer to the flowing water, placed one of his feet at the water's edge and bent his knees, then stretched his hand as far as he could and strained to take Jocelyn's hand.

She was just able to clutch his fingers.

“There we go,” Langham said, though his own position was slightly precarious as he leaned off-balance toward her. “I've got you. Now give a jump and I'll pull you over.”

Jocelyn hesitated but a moment, then gave a leap. Langham yanked as gently as he could while his foot dug into the soft earth of the stream bank. But he had miscalculated the pull of Jocelyn's weight. As she flew onto the opposite bank, his one foot slipped.

“Look out!” shouted Catharine.

It was too late. His other foot sloshed into the water as he struggled desperately to keep his balance.

“Lieutenant!” cried Jocelyn.

Catharine jumped into the stream to grab his flailing hand. On the bank, Amanda reached for the other, and together they steadied him and kept him from tumbling on his face into the foot-deep water. With some effort they pulled him back to the bank, his white naval trousers soaked above his boots to the knees. Catharine's dress was in a similar condition, though she was loving every minute of it.

“I will never live this down,” he said, “having to be rescued from a little stream barely four feet wide. We naval officers are supposed to be more skilled on water than that!”

Still laughing, they recovered themselves and gradually continued on their way, their footsteps squishing as they walked.

“I am so sorry, Lieutenant,” said Jocelyn. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it was mine,” said Catharine, “for insisting we come this way. I apologize to you all,” she added. But even as the words were out of her mouth, she was giggling again.

“Not to worry,” laughed the lieutenant. “No harm done, except to my pride. It was an adventure I am sure I shall long remember . . . and never live down among my naval colleagues—if I tell them, that is!”

“You can put the blame entirely on me,” laughed Catharine.

“But tell me about little Betsy,” Langham went on, changing the subject as they sloshed away from the stream. “Who is she?”

“Actually, we know very little about her,” replied Jocelyn, and then went on to explain briefly.

Even before she had finished explaining Betsy's strange appearance at Hector's side at their kitchen door, Catharine was again romping ahead.

Lieutenant Langham and Jocelyn continued to talk while Amanda listened quietly.

“Both Mr. Churchill and I have been concerned about you all,” the lieutenant was saying. “One of the reasons for my visit was to see how you were getting on.”

“I will not say it is not difficult without my husband,” replied Jocelyn. “But we know that God is good, and that helps us manage.”

“His memory is highly respected in the navy.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“And Mr. Churchill sends his personal regards.”

“Thank you. Please express my appreciation to him.”

“I will be certain to do so.”

They walked awhile in silence.

“One thing I have been curious about, Lady Rutherford,” said Lieutenant Langham as they now made their way out of the woods and into the more open country that would lead them toward the Hall, “—has Miss Rutherford—Miss . . . Amanda, that is—told you everything about what happened at the lighthouse, and how brave she was?”