Mistress of the House (10 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

The
fact that Max and Laurie were engaged made very little difference in the everyday routine of the farm. Max and the family carried on with their normal work and Laurie went every day to White Lodge, skirting the fields of growing grain and walking through the little wood which was now a fairyland of windflowers, bluebells and breaking leaf.

Laurie was happy in a positive way which made every succeeding day a delight Max was most attentive. On wet mornings, or on mornings when the dew was extraordinarily heavy, he drove Laurie to White Lodge by the road; and if a sudden heavy shower fell when it was time for her to return, he would leave the milking to Reg and go to fetch her. If he was too busy to go, he worried lest she should catch a cold. This amused Laurie, who quite enjoyed the rain. He was afraid, too, that she might be bored sometimes, and looked out for good films or for concerts to which he might take her; until Laurie said that the spring evenings were too fine to waste inside cinemas, and then he gave up worrying that she would be bored.

He took her to meet Miss Stedman in the village, and there was instant liking between the two. He took her to see a farming family called Collins, who were great friends of his, and here too, Laurie was immediately at home. And he and his mother decided that they should give a supper party to celebrate Laurie’s engagement. The Humphries would come, and the Collins, Roger’s Audrey, Laurie’s mother, the young Maynards, and they, with the family, would make as many as could be comfortably managed. “Eighteen,” said Mrs. Lorney; “we could seat them all in comfort in the kitchen, but I suppose we’d better arrange it in the sitting room.”

“Why not the dining room?” asked Laurie. “You could clear the lumber out?”

“Too much of a job,” said Mrs. Lorney, “and we have nowhere to put it if we move it out.”

“We’ve converted the sitting room before,” said Max. “It looks quite nice when it’s done.”

“And they all know us too well to expect us to go to such lengths for one supper party. Except your mother, Laurie, and I feel sure she doesn’t mind where it is.”

So the invitations for the supper were sent out; and replies to them soon came in. Audrey’s was the first. She telephoned hers. She liked Laurie and had decided that as a sister-in-law, she was much to be preferred to Jessica, who had never approved of her flightiness. The Collinses and the Maynards sent acceptances, and Mrs. Humphries accepted for herself and her husband and said she had forwarded those for Diana and Neville. She felt certain that Diana would come, but Neville was unpredictable, and as he had been down to White Lodge recently, she doubted if he would be able to come again so soon. From both of them, however, came cordial congratulations and grateful acceptances. Neville declared that he would go farther than that to see old Max on his engagement, and that he must approve the prospective bride before he could give his consent. “Neville’s an ass,” said Max, showing the letter to Laurie, but he said it with affection, and showed pleasure that Neville was putting himself out to come.

Laurie’s mother put up once again at the village inn, although she had been invited to stay at the farm. She guessed that there would be a great deal of work at the farm and that she might be in the way; but she was glad that they were celebrating Laurie’s engagement, and was curious to see the people among whom Laurie would live after her marriage.

“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me,” Laurie said to Max as they returned to the farmhouse through the orchard. It was the evening before the supper party, and already great preparations were making the house different and busy.

“I’m the person who should say that,” said Max. “I never expected such a glorious bit of luck as you, Laurie. And I’m beginning to believe now that you mean it.”

“About time, too. You’ll believe it tomorrow, when all your friends are here to celebrate.”

“I’m glad you like the Collinses. They are good people to have for neighbors. I’m frequently over at their place in the winter; and next winter we’ll have them over to see us. The Maynards too.”

“That reminds me,” said Laurie. “We’ll have to have a place where we can entertain on our own when we want to. And where we can be by ourselves. I thought of the lumber room.” She had half expected a protest, but instead, she met with immediate agreement.

“Yes,” said Max. “I thought of that. The problem is what to do with all the junk that is in there now; but I suppose it will have to go in one of the barns. It’s a nice room.”

“It will need re-decorating. It’s much too dark.”

“I’ll see to that. You tell me the colors. I thought about it some time ago. You could have the piano there—nobody plays it but you. And we need a new carpet for it.”

“And new curtains.”

“And one or two good pieces of furniture. We’ll have some happy winter evenings there, Laurie.”

“Of course we will. A lot of the time I find myself wondering how it will all work—but I expect it will all come out quite easily.”

“It’s going to make a lot of difference to me, having you.”

“Yes, Max?”

“Yes, darling. You’re the whole point of my life.”

“It was a marvellous chance that sent me here. I’ve had lots of these secretarial jobs before, but never one where anything the least exciting happened.”

They discussed plans for re-decorating the lumber room. “I’m going to have fun,” said Laurie, “I expect I shall think out hundreds of schemes before I finally decide.”

In the house, they found complete chaos, but apparently Mrs. Lorney and Roger had plans for creating order from it. Roger and Max shifted furniture to directions; Jessica was plucking chickens and, even Aunt Hilda had been roped in to help clean silver. Laurie immediately made herself useful, and felt a pleasant excitement stirring within her.

Next day, the Humphries declared that they had no use for her after lunch. Mr. Humphries had one or two calls to make, and would not hear of her staying in the study to sort out the latest notes. Mrs. Humphries came in from the garden with an enormous bunch of lilies of the valley.

“I’m sure they have plenty of flowers at the farm,” she said, “but these have such a wonderful perfume. I’d like to give you these, my dear.”

Laurie took them gratefully, burying her face in the delicate spears, taking deep breaths of their fragrance.

* * *

Miraculously, the farmhouse was in a state of order and extreme cleanliness. The hall had been relieved of its usual somewhat sombre look by a mass of coppery branches from the flowering cherries by the gate, now in full bloom and resting in one of the gleaming copper jugs from the kitchen. ‘Who did that, I wonder?’ thought Laurie as she passed through on her way to the kitchen. In there, she found Mrs. Lorney and Aunt Hilda enjoying a cup of tea.

“Come along in,” said Mrs. Lorney. “We wondered who it could be coming through the hall. You’re early.”

“I thought I could help you with the preparations,” said Laurie. “No, don’t get up. I’ll pour the tea. Will you have another? You, Aunt Hilda? Mrs. Humphries sent these beautiful lilies; they’d look lovely in one big bowl on the piano, wouldn’t they? I’ll just put them in water.”

Mrs. Lorney took her into the dining room, where the table was already laid, and the flowers arranged.

“We put the tables together to make one long one,” said Mrs. Lorney. “It’s friendlier like that, I always think.”

“Yes. I think it looks very nice. Who did the flowers?”

“Max did. Nobody in this family can do flowers like Max. He brought in the cherry first and put it in the hall. I must say it looks very nice there, but I don’t seem to get the time to do flowers—they take so long and need changing so often. And then he brought in a mass of stuff and did bowls for the sitting room—or dining room I suppose I ought to say today. He takes half the time I do; and they look really nice ... Well, Laurie, I hope your mother thinks you’re going to be happy here.”

“I was just thinking of her myself; and thinking she must be sure of it when she sees how you all spoil me.”

At half-past seven, everything was ready for supper at eight. The vast oven of the kitchen range had come into its own this evening; birds nicely browning on the middle shelf; potatoes roasting at the top, stacks of plates at the bottom. Soup ready on the top of the stove, vegetables steaming. And Martha Peel in her black uniform listening to the thousand instructions Mrs. Lorney had to give her. Not that they were necessary. Martha had served for Mrs. Lorney before. Martha was fifty or thereabouts, and had been in service until her mother died and she had come home to keep house for her father. Now she “obliged” when she was needed.

Now she smiled down at Mrs. Lorney.

“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Lorney. I’ll manage. I’ll do everything just as you say. Nothing’s going to get spoiled with me to watch it; and I’ll just let the fire go down gentle so that nothing will get dried up. Don’t you worry.”

Jessica appeared in her dance frock. “I shall look ridiculous,” she said, “if the others come in ordinary frocks.”

“No, you won’t. You look very nice indeed; and Diana is sure to wear something special.”

“Where’s everybody?”

“Keeping out of my way. And just as well. Roger’s gone up the lane to meet Audrey’s car. Max got back late and is changing now. I think Laurie went out in the garden.”

“What’s she wearing?”

“Green, and very nice too. You’d better get out of the kitchen before you spoil your frock. Let me know as soon as anybody gets here and I can slip off my apron.”

“You can slip it off now,” said Martha. “There’s nothing more for you to do.”

“Don’t forget to slip the pie in just before we start. Mr. Collins for one likes his fruit pie. He’s got no patience with these elegant cold sweets. Oh, and did Max see to the champagne?”

“He did,” said the imperturbable Martha. “Champagne!” said Jessica. “Champagne! Are we having champagne?”

“Yes.”

“We never had it in this house before.”

“Well, we’re having it now. Do run along, Jess, or you’ll get spoiled. If you want to know, Neville sent it.”

“Silly, hi’-faluting notions,” said Jessica, going to the door. “That’s her idea, I guess. The Collinses are going to laugh at the champagne.”

She went out and Mrs. Lorney repressed her exasperation and reluctantly slipped off her apron.

Laurie sat on the wall at the end of the garden. Already the cool of evening was succeeding the warmth of the spring day. She sat and looked down at her engagement ring; and emerald surrounded by small diamonds. Max had been extravagant, she knew; and it worried her a little. But Max had laughed and tilted up her face to kiss her lips. “I hope,” he said, “that this is the only time in my life that I get engaged; so I might as well do the thing properly.” Darling Max.

It was pleasant to sit here on the wall, at peace with the world, completely relaxed for a few minutes before she went indoors to face the combined array of guests. In the house, all was excitement. The Lorneys, she realized, liked a party, and all the preparation necessary beforehand. They liked a chance of dressing up and stepping out of their everyday selves; and of meeting with their neighbors.

Glancing towards the house, she saw that a man was advancing towards her along the garden path. His eyes were on her, and when she saw him, he smiled and gave her a little salute. She watched him come. He was tall and thin, very blond, elegantly dressed in a dinner jacket; and everything about him spoke of self-assurance and poise. His first words confirmed the assurance. He said, coming close and stopping before her: “Hel-
l
o, beautiful.”

And Laurie, who knew how to cope with this form of address, said, smiling briefly: “Hello.”

“Now where have you been all my life?” he asked.

“Dodging all the people who call me ‘beautiful’,” she said.

“May I sit down with you?” he asked.

“Certainly.”

“I suppose you’ve come along to celebrate Max’s engagement?”

“Certainly.”

“My family have all gone in, but I saw beauty sitting alone on the wall and decided to investigate. I’m Neville Humphries, by the way.

“Yes, I gathered that. How d’you do?”

“Oh, you’ve heard about me, have you? From whom?”

“The Lorneys—and others.”

“And what do you hear?”

“Chiefly, I think, that you were very unreliable.”

“Oh, shame,” he said, and they laughed together. “Aren’t you going to reciprocate?” he asked.

“Reciprocate?”

“And tell me who you are.”

“Oh, they’ll introduce us at the house.”

“You don’t come from these parts, that I do know. I’d have seen you before if you did.”

“I doubt it. You don’t seem to be here much yourself.”

“Friend of the bride-to-be, perhaps?”

“A very great friend.”

“Oh. Nice girl?”

“Which of us do you mean?”

“Well, I can see you’re a nice girl. I meant the bride-to-be. I have a soft spot for Max, and I’d like to know she was—well—good enough.”

“I like her,” said Laurie, “but whether she’s good enough for Max—well, she’d have to be very good for that.”

“Oh? Max has had a success with you, too, has he?”

“Yes. I’m very fond of Max.”

“I must find out how he does it.”

“Don’t you think we ought to go in? If your family has arrived ... And I heard another car just now.”

“Oh, they’ll all be busy meeting the girl—this Laurie. My family seems to have taken a liking to her—she’s my father’s secretary, you know.”

“Yes, I did know. But I think it would be polite if I put in an appearance.”

They walked towards the house.

“Staying here?” asked Neville, looking down upon her shining brown head.

“Yes.”

“Perhaps we could fix up to do something together?”

“Such as?”

“Well, tennis or riding, or something.”

“The tennis would be nice. I haven’t played for a long time.”

“You shall,” he said. “That’s a date.”

They went into the hall, and found a number of the guests standing there talking.

“Oh, here’s Laurie now,” said Mrs. Lorney. Laurie, your mother just arrived.”

Laurie greeted her mother and then was introduced to the Maynards, and welcomed the Collinses. When Neville took her hand, he squeezed it hard.

“So you’re Laurie,” he said. “Well, Max is a lucky blighter, isn’t he?”

They went into the sitting room, and gathered round the long table there. And from the beginning everything went with a lively swing. There was no stiffness, no formality. Mrs. Giles, her lively curiosity at work among these people, found them a mixed bag. The Humphries and the Collinses—so different in every way—had no difficulty in finding common ground for conversation and discussion. The Humphries came of a leisured class that cultivated the intellect; the Collinses were of solid yeoman stock that cultivated the soil; yet there were respect and admiration on both sides. Audrey (and Roger through Audrey), belonged to the young farming generation that had capital to support it; the Maynards to the same generation that must succeed in spite of having no capital; yet their interests were the same; and they shared the same social life. Mrs. Giles watched them with interest. She tried to picture Laurie living among them all. They were certainly extending a genuine and cordial welcome to her daughter. She felt pleased that Laurie was so much liked. (Always excepting that difficult Jessica, thought Mrs. Giles, who lowered in a most unattractive way at Laurie and everything that Laurie said. Pity if the girl was going to be continually jealous—but hardly surprising when one looked at Laurie.)

For Laurie was sparkling. Of course, reflected her mother, she always sparkled in company. Parties, whether they were dances or dinner parties or simply gatherings at home in the flat, always caused Laurie to sparkle. Her eyes shone, and color came into her cheeks, and she sent out waves of warmth and charm that swept over everybody. These people were feeling it, too. They had come prepared to enjoy themselves and to have a good time, but Laurie had given it to them.

Max was quiet. He talked and he smiled, but he did so in a rested and quiet way that spoke of inner contentment. When his eyes met Laurie’s, there passed between them a silent message. Mrs. Giles decided, comfortably, that she need have no doubt about their love for each other. She could leave Laurie in good hands.

The supper was perfect. Martha, competent as always, did everything aright, and Mrs. Lorney could compliment herself on the excellence of her arrangements. The meal had been a success and that compensated for all the work that had been put into it. Afterwards, they walked in the garden for a little, or smoked in the hall, and when they returned to the sitting room, all signs of the meal had disappeared, the tables had been pushed against the wall, the flowers arranged round the room, the chairs restored to their usual positions and fresh logs put upon the fire. Everything was comfortable again, and the older people gathered round the fire. Martha in the kitchen, began to tackle a huge pile of washing up. Max, leaning against the gate of the yard with Diana beside him and the starlit night above them, was saying: “Thank you, Diana. I know you mean it.”

“Of course I do. And I think you will be very happy with Laurie—she sends out warmth and happiness.”

“I’m sure of my side of it. I only hope that Laurie will be happy with me.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“You’ve always been my best friend—and how daft that sounds. You know how I mean it I’d like you and Laurie to be friends.”

“Of course men talk nonsense about friendship, especially between women. But Laurie and I are already friends.”

“And you and I?”

“Of course. I hope nothing will ever spoil that” They turned to go back to the house.

“Is that Laurie?” asked Max suddenly, seeing shadows crossing the garden towards the house.

“I think so—with Neville.”

They called, and the shadows came closer and resolved into Laurie and Neville, laughing together.

“I’ve just been bemoaning my fate,” said Neville, “in getting here too late, when Laurie had had time to get fond of you, Max.”

“You sound very cheerful about it.”

“Also,” pointed out Diana, “it was entirely your own fault If you had come once or twice when you promised to come, you’d have met Laurie long ago.”

“I’m glad he didn’t,” said Max.

“Don’t worry, darling,” said Laurie, “he wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Neville protested. Diana laughed. But Laurie and Max touched hands lightly as they turned to go in. Max in gratitude, Laurie in affinnation. It was quite true. She had taken to Neville, but she recognized it for the usual surface attraction and knew that he was not destined to be Max’s rival.

Neville paused at the front door.

“I’ve been asking Laurie to play tennis with me,” he said. “Is that all right with you, Max?”

“My dear Neville, I have no jurisdiction over Laurie.”

“Oh, come off it, Max. Do you mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m very glad.”

They went into the house and joined in the general conversation in the sitting room. At last people started to go, with frequent references to early rising and the work that always waited to be done. And when everybody had gone and the sitting room looked unusually big and empty with only the family present, Mrs. Lorney sat back and relaxed.