Something Is Done About Delphie

22

Something Is Done About Delphie

    It was not to be until his nephew had joined them at old Lady Amory’s house in Bath that Colonel Amory would learn of the whereabouts of the Ogilvie sisters.

    Sir Noël, arriving in good time for dinner, had been a little surprized to find his Uncle Bobby there at this time of year as well as his Uncle Richard. But he could see that Bobby was in a gloom, doubtless because Miss Parker’s engagement to Viscount Harpingdon had very lately been made public, so he concluded that he had not felt like making his usual round of country visits.

    Noël might have imparted the full story of the Claveringham ladies’ epic voyage to his grandmamma and Colonel Amory, for he knew that neither of them would breathe a word if asked not to: but Bobby’s tongue was entirely indiscreet. And besides, little Lizzie had been allowed to sit up for dinner and, if perhaps she was too young to see anything improper in the adventure, still, it would not do, for a child of her age. But he told her all about Dr Fairbrother and his wonderful houseful of creatures, and handed her the little note that the kindly zoologist had forwarded to him in Brighton for her.

    “You may read it, Lizzie,” said her grandmamma graciously.

    Lizzie pinkened: it was all in hard grown-up writing.

    “Let me see,” said her papa kindly. “Why, Lizzie, how exciting!”

    “Er—I hope it won’t prove too excitin’,” said Sir Noël with an uneasy glance at his grandmother.

    Colonel Amory hesitated; then he said: “I intend taking a house for us, you know.”

    “Yes: very near to Grandmamma!” cried Lizzie.

    “Indeed: if not in Bath itself, then very near,” he agreed. He read the zoologist’s note out, smiling very much.

    Lizzie was so overcome she could scarcely speak.

    “A monkey!” said Lady Amory faintly.

    “Well, yes, Grandmamma,” said Sir Noël sheepishly. “I was carried away with the notion, you see.”

    “Papa, isn’t it exciting!” cried Lizzie, recovering the power of speech.

    “Very exciting indeed!” agreed Colonel Amory with a laugh.

    “Oh: s’pose you is used to ’em, from India,” said Bobby.

    “Well, yes. At one place I had, there was a tribe of them that infested a large tree by my garden wall. The noise in the early mornings and evenings was incredible.”

    “One monkey, however, won’t make nearly such a row,” said Bobby quickly, seeing Lizzie’s face had fallen.

    “Won’t it, Uncle Bobby?”

    “Oh, Lor’, no: they egg one another on, when there’s a flock of ’em! Eh, Richard?”

    “Yes, that’s it.”

    “Not unlike a flock of the human species, then,” noted Lady Amory drily.

    “The young of the human species, certainly!” agreed Colonel Amory with a laugh: they had encountered a flock, or perhaps gaggle, of noisy schoolgirls only a few days earlier. Rather unfortunately, Lady Amory had not been impressed.

    “Those girls were very noisy,” agreed Lizzie innocently. “But Papa said I should not go to their school, Grandmamma.”

    “So I should hope, my dear.”

    “So you have fixed upon Bath, then, Richard?” said Noël.

    “Well, I think so, yes. Mamma would like it, and then, there are excellent day-schools here, Lizzie need not be separated from me. Though I have not yet found a suitable house.”

    “Richard, you are too particular,” said his mamma.

    “Well, yes. But I have been used to having some space about me, in India.”

    “What: in cantonments?” said Bobby with an attempt at light-heartedness, the which might possibly have fooled Lizzie.

    “No, in my house,” said Colonel Amory absently, re-reading Dr Fairbrother’s note. “I must write to him: how very kind in him, Noël.”

    “Aye: dare say it may take some time to train a monkey,” agreed Bobby in his careless way.

    “Yes. May I?” said Lady Amory, holding out her hand. Her son passed her the letter. Lady Amory scanned it quickly. Her eyebrows rose. “Little Nole?”

    Her grandson grinned.

    “Eh?” said Bobby.

    Silently his Mamma passed him the letter.

    “By Jove, so ’tis. And damme, he has writ ‘Little Nole (sic)’!” he choked ecstatically. “What a character, eh? I should love to meet him!”

    “Ooh, yes! And see all the monkeys and the parrots!” squeaked Lizzie.

    “Aye, that’s it,” he said kindly, passing her the letter. “But how comes it about you was in Oxford, Noël?”

    “I suppose a man may go to Oxford if he so desires,” he drawled, lifting a dish of sweetbreads. “Grandmamma, would you care for some of these?” Lady Amory accepting, he helped her politely, then took some himself. “Nobody does sweetbreads like your cook, Grandmamma,” he said with satisfaction.

    “Stop changing the subject,” said Bobby severely. “I did hear that Aden Tarlington had gone jaunting off to Oxford.”

    Noël ignored him.

    The Colonel helped himself and his little daughter to the sweetbreads. “This is the sort of dish I most missed in India: one cannot teach the native cooks the art of culinary subtlety! –Well, Noël, leaving aside such trivia as Tarlington’s having possibly also gone to Oxford at some time,”—Noël grinned—“how did it come about that you met this enchanting Dr Fairbrother?”

    “Bumped into old Lady Georgina C. at the Claveringham ball, expressed a wish to have a monkey, old girl put him on to this Fairbrother fellow,” explained Bobby airily, helping himself to some collops of veal.

    “He thinks that is a terrifically subtle joke,” said Sir Noël drily to his elder uncle, “but in fact Lady Georgina Claveringham did have her latest monkey from Wynn Fairbrother.”

    Bobby choked over his veal.

    “Behave yourself, Bobby, you are setting little Lizzie a bad example!” said Lady Amory with a smile. “—Do not teaze Noël to tell, if he does not wish to, my dears.”

    “No, no,” said Sir Noël hastily. “It is just that the story is not mine to tell.”

    “Lady in the case?” said Bobby, forgetting his company. “Er—sorry, Mamma!”

    “In fact there were several ladies,” said Noël on a grim note. “They were in a sorry plight, and Aden and Harley Quayle-Sturt were involved in—in rescuing them,” he ended weakly, feeling that Bobby’s needling, as it had no doubt been intended to do, had provoked him into saying too much.

    “Oh?” said his maddening younger uncle, helping himself to a dish of stewed flap-mushrooms. “Have some, Richard: this is the receet I gave Mamma, that I had off Paul Ainsley: it is a Spanish fashion of doing ’em, with olive oil and shallots. Dare say your Indian cooks have never heard of that, neither. –Heard a rumour to the effect that Harley Q.-S. was about to offer for Lady Sarah Claveringham,” he added carelessly to his nephew.

    Noël took a deep breath. “The extent of your amazing network of rumour and speculation never fails to astonish me, Bobby. I suppose I might as well admit, since you have heard it already, that that rumour is well founded. When I last saw Harley he was on the point of departing Brighton in order to call on Lord and Lady Hubbel.”

    “Brighton? Thought they was in Oxford?” said Bobby.

    “No,” he replied shortly.

    Bobby rubbed his nose. “Ah. Saw Rupert Narrowmine only t’other day.”—Noël winced.—“According to him they was all in Oxford: Harley Quayle-Sturt, the Claveringhams, the Parkers, and Harpingdon, plus Aden Tarlington and his sister. Oh, and those connections of the Parkers. Forget their name. Girl what fished you out of the briny, Noël.”

    “Miss Ogilvie?” gasped Lizzie.

    The Colonel had paled. “The Ogilvies were in Oxford, Noël?”

    “Yes. It is they who are friends of Wynn Fairbrother’s, and that is how I met him. Aden and his sister escorted them there to see their old great-uncle, who was dying.” He gave Bobby an annoyed look.

    “Was Delphie there?” squeaked Lizzie.

    “Yes, she was there, Lizzie,” said Noël kindly.

    “Are they still there?” demanded the Colonel tensely.

    His nephew replied without interest: “No, they have been home for some time, now. –I joined Aden there at his invitation: now are you satisfied?” he said nastily to Bobby.

    “No, but it can wait,” he replied, grinning.

    “Where is Delphie?” cried Lizzie, tears starting to her eyes.

    “Now! You have got the child over-excited!” said Lady Amory crossly to the table at large. “Control yourself, if you please, Lizzie, my dear: we do not indulge bursts of hysteria at the dinner table.”

    “No, Grandmamma,” she gulped.

    Colonel Amory put his long hand over her tiny one. “Where are the Ogilvies, Noël?” he demanded grimly.

    Noel was eating veal with enjoyment, and had been about to congratulate his grandmother on its quality. He paused, fork suspended. “I just said, dear old fellow: they have been at their home for some time, now.”

    “Yes, but where is it?” said Colonel Amory loudly.

    “Guillyford Bay, of course,” replied his nephew, now frankly staring. “Did I not say that I saw something of them and Miss Henrietta Parker in Brighton, as Lady Winnafree has taken them under her—”

    “Guillyford Bay?” said Colonel Amory, turning very white. “They cannot have been there all this time!”

    “All what time?” asked Bobby, staring in his turn.

    “Since they left Miss Blake’s school.”

    “More or less, yes,” replied Noël. “They have a little cottage there, and Miss Pansy—oh, she is the younger, by the way, did you know that, Richard? Um—where was I? Oh, yes: Miss Pansy has a boat, just a little sailing dinghy, you know. Quite a decent little sailor. Oh, and you will never guess! Dear old Sir Chauncey has—”

    Bobby coughed loudly.

    “—taken a great fancy to her,” ended Sir Noël, glaring at his younger uncle.

    “Noël,” said Richard tensely: “are you trying to say that the Miss Ogilvies have been fixed just a few miles from the school all these months?”

    “He just did say so,” pointed out Bobby. “Which of ’em is it, Richard, old man, or don’t I dare ask?”

    “Be silent,” said the Colonel tightly.

    Lady Amory had been following the conversation with bright-eyed interest. “Bobby, there is no need to needle your brother: Lizzie has been very anxious indeed to see Miss Philadelphia Ogilvie again.”

    “Phila-what?” said Bobby, his jaw dropping.

    Lady Amory ignored this superbly.

    Colonel Amory pushed his plate away with a distracted air.

    “Papa, can we go and see her?” whispered Lizzie.

    His hand closed hard over her little one. “Yes. Tomorrow.”

    “Ooh!” she squeaked excitedly.

    “Eh?” croaked Bobby. “But Noël’s only just got here— Oh, very well, go tomorrow, by all means, dear boy!” he said airily as his mother’s eye encountered his. “Go tomorrow! –Here, I say, Guillyford: ain’t that Aden Tarlington’s place?”

    “Sir Gerald’s, strictly speaking,” noted his mother.

    “Yes, well, quite near to Brighton, ain’t they? Think I might come with you, dear old boy,” he said happily.

    The journey from Bath to the environs of Brighton had taken some time and the Colonel’s nerves were nigh stretched to breaking point, as his brother had, indeed, carried out his fell intent of accompanying them. Not that Bobby had said anything too pointed in front of Lizzie, thank God. But what he had said had been intensely irritating. Added to which, Richard had forgotten how bad his younger brother was at chess: he had ended up playing a much simplified game of draughts with Lizzie on the little travelling chess set, while Bobby dealt himself endless hands of patience.

    “This can’t be it,” said Bobby with his head out of the coach’s window. “It’s a hovel!”

    Little Lizzie joined him. “It must be Elm-Tree Cottage: it has a big tree! Just like the man said!” she squeaked.

    “We shall try it,” said Richard grimly. Wishing to God that he had been able to stop Bobby from coming. But in front of Lizzie’s innocent, wondering eyes, he had not been able to find the right words. Of which his irritating brother had been perfectly well aware, of course.

    The coach drew up; the post-boy jumped down and came to the window, looking uncertain. “I think this must be it, sir.”

    “No—” began Bobby.

    “We’ll try it!” said Richard loudly from behind him. “Get out, for the Lord’s sake, Bobby!”

    The post-boy let the steps down, and Bobby jumped out. “Ugh: what is that on the step: a pig?” he said, raising his quizzing glass and curling his lip.

    “No!” cried Lizzie ecstatically. “It’s Horatio Nelson Cat!” She ran up the tiny path, and squatted by the furry heap that was occupying most of the flat stone that did duty for a door step.

    “I said you were getting damned short-sighted,” said Bobby’s brother irritably, getting down awkwardly, fumbling with his walking-stick. “No: I can manage!” he said crossly as Bobby put a hand under his elbow.

    Bobby withdrew the hand. “Sorry.”

    Colonel Amory bit his lip. “No: I am, dear fellow.”

    Bobby hesitated. “Um... look, I can wait in the coach.”

    Richard Amory went very red. “There is no need.”

    “Yes, there is, dear man. No, I have a better idea: I’ll let you all chat for a little, and I’ll get off for a stroll: how’s that?”

    “Miss Pansy may also be at home,” said the Colonel hoarsely.

    “Draw her off,” he offered instantly.

    “Ye— Uh—”

    Bobby looked at him sympathetically. “We’ll see how it goes.”

    “Yes. I scarcely know her,” he said faintly.

    Bobby made a face. “Don’t count. Well—shall we knock?”

    “Mm.” The Colonel drew a deep breath and went up to the door.

    Horatio Nelson was now purring loudly, though with his eyes shut. “Look, Papa: he remembers me!” breathed Lizzie.

    Bobby came up to his brother’s elbow. “That cannot be a cat.”

    “Yes!” hissed Lizzie crossly. “He is!”

    “Don’t teaze,” murmured Richard.

    “Er, well, only meant, it’s huge,” he said limply. “Brindled, too. ’Member old Johnson’s fat sow that always had the brindled… litters,” he ended feebly, meeting his brother’s eye.

    “He is a splendid animal,” said Richard firmly, raising the knocker.

    “Don’t knock!” hissed a hoarse young voice.

    Richard gasped, and inadvertently let the knocker fall.

    A wiry, ragged boy of perhaps sixteen years of age had emerged from behind the cottage and was looking at them suspiciously. “They ain’t here,” he said immediately.

    Richard opened his mouth.

    “And Miss Delphie, she be a takin’ a nap,” he added.

    “But we have come a long way to see her!” cried Lizzie in dismay.

    The boy sniffed. “I dessay. An’ you leave that cat alone, he don’t like strangers.”

    “I am NOT a stranger!” cried Lizzie, going very red.

    “All right, what’s ’is name?” he said immediately.

    Glaring, Lizzie replied fiercely: “His name is Horatio Nelson Cat, and he knows me!”

    “Oh.”

    There was a short pause.

    “We really have come a long way to see Miss Ogilvie. And, er, as it is not very early, mayhap you could wake her?” said Colonel Amory politely.

    “I dunno about not very early. Acos Miss Pansy and Miss Henry, they got up afore dawn. And Miss Delphie, she would get up, too, to see they had their breakfasts, and make ’em put their shawls on. Acos she don’t trust that Ratia not to behave with the sense she was borned with,” he said with satisfaction.

    “I see,” said the Colonel limply.

    “And where have Miss Pansy and Miss Henry gone off to?” asked Bobby genially.

    The boy glared. “None of your business, Mr Fine-as-Fivepence!”

    “Well, supposing I were to offer you fivepence—or even sixpence—would that make it my business?”

    “No, it WOULDN’T!” he shouted. “And you can clear off, the lot of yer! Or I’ll set the Commander to you, with ’is gun!”

    At this the door opened and Delphie said shakily: “Matt, my dear, there is no need to, for I—I know who these people are. And—and in any case, you know, the Commander is gone out with Pansy and Henry.”

    At this the Colonel, very much off balance, gave a loud laugh, and Lizzie, equally off balance, shouted: “SEE! And you are a horrid FIBBER!” And burst into tears.

    Delphie immediately knelt down and put her arms around her.

    “Here,” said Bobby, on the broad grin, holding out a coin to the glaring boy. “It ain’t a bribe, it’s a reward for honourable conduct. And if you like, you can show me and the post-boy back to that execrable tavern.”

    “No, Bobby—” began the Colonel.

    “Hush, Lizzie, dearest: there’s no need to cry,” said Delphie gently. She looked up, and, blushing very much, said: “Good afternoon, Colonel Amory. I—I think this gentleman must be your brother?”

    “Yes. Good afternoon, Miss Ogilvie,” said the Colonel limply.

    “Please don’t go, Mr Amory,” said Delphie to Bobby, over Lizzie’s sobbing head.

    He grinned. “I think your local tavern-keeper may need to be reassured that we ain’t shifty foreigners what’ll shab off and leave him to pay the post-boys, ma’am! I shall see things safely disposed and return in—er—a little while!” he ended with a laugh and a sly look at Richard. “May the boy come, or does he have to remain on guard?”

    “Oh! Um, you may go if you wish, Matt. Truly Lord Whatsisface’s spies will not come, now that he has agreed that Lady Sarah may be engaged to Mr Quayle-Sturt.”

    “The Commander said as how you was not to be left alone, Miss Delphie,” he replied doggedly.

    “But I am not alone!” said Delphie with a mad little laugh. “—No, hush, Lizzie, dear, we all understand that it was a mistake. –What? No, no: no-one thinks that Horatio is in the least like a pig.’’

    “Uncle—Bobby—said!” sobbed Lizzie, her head in Delphie’s bosom.

    “Uncle Bobby is a short-sighted idiot,” said Bobby’s brother brutally, “and he may take himself off to the tavern with my blessing!”

    Grinning, Bobby mounted into the coach, shouting orders to the post-boy. After a considerable amount of misdirection from Matt and a certain amount of not particularly muffled cursing from the post-boy, the coach was turned in the narrow lane and set off back to the village.

    “Please come inside, Colonel Amory,” said Delphie, blushing but determined. “Come along, Lizzie, my dear.”

    “Horatio must come, too,” said Lizzie, sniffing, and wiping the back of her hand across her face.

    Delphie handed her a handkerchief. “He may come if he wishes, but he has a mind of his own, remember? Do you recall that time Mlle La Plante wished to have him in her French class?”

    Lizzie smiled shakily. “Yes. Bunch said she said a bad word!”

    “That must have improved the school’s French no end!” said Colonel Amory.

    Delphie smiled a little. “None of the girls understood it, except for Bunch.”

    The Colonel pushed the door open a little further for her, leaning behind her in order to do so. “And dare one ask what Mlle La Plante expected the class to learn from Horatio?”

    Delphie experienced a most peculiar sensation indeed: a warm feeling that went right down her back from the nape of her neck to her heels. Though Colonel Amory was not touching her at all. “Words for parts of his anatomy,” she said hoarsely.

    “I see. Please go on in, Miss Ogilvie. You too, Lizzie, my love. And don’t try to force Horatio: Miss Ogilvie is right: cats have all a mind of their own.”

    “I could try,” said Lizzie. She stooped and got her arms round the huge brindled bundle.

    “He’s too heavy,” said the Colonel, frowning, as her thin little face then turned very red.

    “No!” she gasped.

    “Yes. Leave him, my dear: he’s making himself heavy and limp, in that horrid way he has,” said Delphie, touching her bony little shoulder.

    “I—can—do—it!” she grunted.

    “No: Just leave him, Lizzie,” she said firmly. “He will come in if he wishes.”

    Lizzie scowled and endeavoured again to heave the big cat up.

    “Lizzie—” began her father. “Damn this leg, I cannot—” His stick fell to the ground with a clatter. “Hell!” said the Colonel violently.

    There was a little silence.

    Delphie bent and quietly picked up the stick. “Release him, Lizzie. I think you must see that your papa cannot help you, though he wishes to.” She handed the Colonel his stick.

    “Thank you,” he said, turning scarlet and avoiding her eye. “I do beg your pardon, Miss Ogilvie, I—”

    “I understand,” said Delphie levelly. “You cannot bend the leg, is that it? It must be very annoying indeed.”

    “Yes,” he said, swallowing. “Of course I can bend from the waist, but—” He broke off. “Lizzie, will you please leave the DAMNED CAT?” he shouted.

    For a moment there was a tingling silence. Lizzie went bright red and released the horridly limp and uncooperative Horatio.

    “You cannot squat or kneel: of course. –Lizzie, please go inside,” said Delphie calmly.

    “Yes, ma’am,” said Lizzie miserably, going into the cottage.

    “Damn!” said Colonel Amory violently, with tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Miss Ogilvie: I— We—” He took a deep breath. “Neither Lizzie nor I is usually this badly behaved,” he said grimly.

    “I know,” returned Delphie simply.

    “We— I suppose we have been on edge for the whole journey, and then my brother— Um, well, that is no excuse,” he said lamely.

    “You—you have business in the neighbourhood, do you, sir?”

    “No,” he said in amaze: “we came to find you!”

    Delphie’s jaw sagged. She was incapable of speech, but she was aware she had gone bright red up to the roots of her hair.

    Of course Richard Amory had not intended to say anything so gauche. He had meant it to be gently understood, in the course of the joyous reunion of Lizzie and Miss Delphie, that he himself had not been averse to making the trip. He also flushed up, and looked at her weakly.

    Delphie’s heart pounded furiously but after a few moments during which she could neither speak nor think she realized, though without nearly verbalizing it to herself, that he had covered himself in confusion and was quite lost as to how to continue. She had never stopped thinking of him, since their first encounter months back when he had come to collect Lizzie for her Easter holiday: but although she had not disguised from herself the fact that she wanted him, she had tried to tell herself that it was ridiculous: for, apart from the fact that she was a penniless nobody with the unsuitable episode of the masquerade at Miss Blake’s in her past to boot, he was a much older man and would probably never so much as look twice at her, in any case! Now all of a sudden she stopped thinking of Richard Amory as a much older man.

    “I’m glad,” she said simply.

    He looked at her plaintively. “It is too soon to say what I—” He swallowed painfully. “I had no idea where you had gone. I was nigh mad, trying to find you. The headmistress wouldn’t tell me,” he said hoarsely.

    “We were here all the time,” said Delphie numbly.

    “I know that now,” he said, licking his lips. “And—and of course Noël was aware— But I did not realise that he would know, and never thought to ask him, so—” He broke off.

    Lizzie came timidly to the door. “Cousin Noël said you were here, Delphie,” she said tearfully. “So we came to find you.”

    Delphie turned and smiled at her. “Yes, indeed, my dear. I—I wanted very much to write to you, but, um, it was thought better, um…”

    “Miss Blake told you not to, was that it?” said the Colonel grimly.

    Delphie went very red. “It was for Lizzie’s own good, sir! Miss Blake thought she would settle more easily after we left if—if it was a clean break.”

    “It was a damned cruel thing to do,” he said, the chiselled nostrils flaring.

    “I was sad,” said Lizzie shyly.

    “So was I,” said Delphie, smiling mistily at her.

    “I hate Miss Blake!” Lizzie burst into loud sobs.

    “Oh, dear!” cried Delphie, putting her arms round her. “Hush, my dear! Miss Blake was doing what she thought was right, you must not hate her! –I was afraid she might feel this, sir, which is why I did not like to say—”

    “That it was Miss Blake told you not to write?” he said grimly. “Aye. Well, it seems to be my day for putting my great foot in my mouth, does it not?”

    Delphie looked him in the face. “No,” she said baldly.

    Richard Amory’s colour rose and he looked helplessly into her big grey eyes.

    “I—missed—you—Delphie!” sobbed Lizzie into the crumpled print gown.

    “Yes,” said her father hoarsely.

    Delphie, from feeling quite in charge of herself, and of the whole situation, was suddenly plunged into confusion. Her breathing came unevenly; she looked down at Lizzie’s bent head and said shakily: “Oh.”

    Colonel Amory looked at the heaving bosom and, if he had first wondered if she would wish to see him again and had then been incapable of wondering anything at all, being entirely swamped by feeling, now regained sufficient mastery of his thoughts to be able to recognize quite clearly that she did want him: she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He dropped his stick and put a hand gently on Lizzie’s heaving back and another on Delphie’s shoulder and said quite gaily: “Come along, my dears. Let us go inside and sit down. We have found one another again, and there is no need to cry.”

    “No!” agreed Delphie shakily, looking up with a smile and her eyes now also full of tears.

    Colonel Amory propelled them both into the cottage, of necessity leaning a considerable amount of weight on Delphie as he negotiated the step with his stiffened knee. He was aware that her bosom heaved once more and that she went very pink as he did so: and, though he had crossly rejected help from Bobby earlier, oddly enough had the distinct feeling that he would not at all mind having Delphie help him up and down steps for the rest of his life.

Next chapter:

https://theogilvieconnection.blogspot.com/2022/08/lady-winnafree-is-indiscreet.html