But the more Rachel saw of her cousin, the more she realized this peril. When she went down on Monday morning to complete the matters of business that had been slurred over on the Saturday, she found that Fanny had not the slightest notion what her own income was to be. All she knew was that her General had left everything unreservedly to herself, except £100 and one of his swords to Major Keith, who was executor to the will, and had gone to London to “see about it,” by which word poor Fanny expressed all the business that her maintenance depended on. If an old general wished to put a major in temptation, could he have found a better means of doing so? Rachel even thought that Fanny’s incapacity to understand business had made her mistake the terms of the bequest, and that Sir Stephen must have secured his property to his children; but Fanny was absolutely certain that this was not the case, for she said the Major had made her at once sign a will dividing the property among them, and appointing himself and her Aunt Curtis their guardians. “I did not like putting such a charge on my dear aunt,” said Fanny, “but the Major said I ought to appoint a relation, and I had no one else! And I knew you would all be good to them, if they had lost me too, when baby was born.”
“We would have tried,” said Rachel, a little humbly, “but oh! I am glad you are here, Fanny!”
Nothing could of course be fixed till the Major had “seen about it.” After which he was to come to let Lady Temple know the result; but she believed he would first go to Scotland to see his brother. He and his brother were the only survivors of a large family, and he had been on foreign service for twelve years, so that it would be very selfish to wish him not to take full time at home. “Selfish,” thought Rachel; “if he will only stay away long enough, you shall learn, my dear, how well you can do without him!”
The boys had interrupted the conversation less than the previous one, because the lesser ones were asleep, or walking out, and the elder ones having learnt that a new week was to be begun steadily with lessons, thought it advisable to bring themselves as little into notice as possible; but fate was sure to pursue them sooner or later, for Rachel had come down resolved on testing their acquirements, and deciding on the method to be pursued with them; and though their mamma, with a curtain instinctive shrinking both for them and for herself, had put off the ordeal to the utmost by listening to all the counsel about her affairs, it was not to be averted.
“Now, Fanny, since it seems that more cannot be done at present, let us see about the children’s education. Where are their books?”
“We have very few books,” said Fanny, hesitating; “we had not much choice where we were.”
“You should have written to me for a selection.”
“Why—so we would, but there was always a talk of sending Conrade and Francis home. I am afraid you will think them very backward, dear Rachel, especially Francie; but it is not their fault, dear children, and they are not used to strangers,” added Fanny, nervously.
“I do not mean to be a stranger,” said Rachel.
And while Fanny, in confusion, made loving protestations about not meaning that, Rachel stepped out upon the lawn, and in her clear voice called “Conrade, Francis!” No answer. She called “Conrade” again, and louder, then turned round with “where can they be—not gone down on the beach?”
“Oh, dear no, I trust not,” said the mother, flurried, and coming to the window with a call that seemed to Rachel’s ears like the roar of a sucking dove.
But from behind the bushes forth came the two young gentlemen, their black garments considerably streaked with the green marks of laurel climbing.
“Oh, my dears, what figures you are! Go to Coombe and get yourselves brushed, and wash your hands, and then come down, and bring your lesson books.”
Rachel prognosticated that these preparations would be made the occasion, of much waste of time; but she was answered, and with rather surprised eyes, that they had never been allowed to come into the drawing-room without looking like little gentlemen.
“But you are not living in state here,” said Rachel; “I never could enter into the cult some people, mamma especially, pay to their drawing-room.”
“The Major used to be very particular about their not coming to sit down untidy,” said Fanny. “He said it was not good for anybody.”
Martinet! thought Rachel, nearly ready to advocate the boys making no toilette at any time; and the present was made to consume so much time that, urged by her, Fanny once more was obliged to summon her boys and their books.
It was not an extensive school library—a Latin grammar an extremely dilapidated spelling-book, and the fourth volume of Mrs. Marcet’s “Little Willie.” The other three—one was unaccounted for, but Cyril had torn up the second, and Francis had thrown the first overboard in a passion. Rachel looked in dismay. “I don’t know what can be done with these!” she said.
“Oh, then we’ll have holidays till we have got books, mamma,” said Conrade, putting his hands on the sofa, and imitating a kicking horse.
“It is very necessary to see what kind of books you ought to have,” returned Rachel. “How far have you gone in this?”
“I say, mamma,” reiterated Conrade, “we can’t do lessons without books.”
“Attend to what your Aunt Rachel says, my dear; she wants to find out what books you should have.”
“Yes, let me examine you.”
Conrade came most inconveniently close to her; she pushed her chair back; he came after her. His mother uttered a remonstrating, “My dear!”
“I thought she wanted to examine me,” quoth Conrade. “When Dr. M’Vicar examines a thing, he puts it under a microscope.”
It was said gravely, and whether it were malice or simplicity, Rachel was perfectly unable to divine, but she thought anyway that Fanny had no business to laugh, and explaining the species of examination that she intended, she went to work. In her younger days she had worked much at schools, and was really an able and spirited teacher, liking the occupation; and laying hold of the first book in her way, she requested Conrade to read. He obeyed, but in such a detestable gabble that she looked up appealingly to Fanny, who suggested, “My dear, you can read better than that.” He read four lines, not badly, but then broke off, “Mamma, are not we to have ponies? Coombe heard of a pony this morning; it is to be seen at the ‘Jolly Mariner,’ and he will take us to look at it.”
“The ‘Jolly Mariner!’ It is a dreadful place, Fanny, you never will let them go there?”
“My dear, the Major will see about your ponies when he comes.”
“We will send the coachman down to inquire,” added Rachel.
“He is only a civilian, and the Major always chooses our horses,” said Conrade.
“And I am to have one too, mamma,” added Francis. “You know I have been out four times with the staff, and the Major said I could ride as well as Con!”
“Reading is what is wanted now, my dear, go on.”
Five lines more; but Francis and his