It was surprisingly warm this morning. Summer was really here. A puff of scented air that was almost hot pressed between the curtains and caressed her face and arms. With a strong movement she kicked the bedclothes from her and lay smiling in her long white nightdress. She spread her pink toes to the warm air. She felt deliciously conscious of her body this morning, as though it were a strong young plant rejoicing in its coming fruition.
A thick light brown plait lay over each shoulder and ended in a close glossy curl. She took these curling ends in her hands and dangled them.
She heard a quick snuffling sound beneath her window, then an excited bark. It was her father’s spaniel, Keno, who was never let out in the morning except by Philip. Her father must be up then, off to catch a fish or two before breakfast!
Meg jumped out of bed and ran to the window. She put her head between the curtains and looked down. Her eyes were dancing. Her lips parted in a mischievous smile.
She saw her father in his corduroy Norfolk jacket, wading boots, and a disreputable Panama hat. He had laid his rod on the grass and was taking something from his pocket. It was a pocket comb, and he began at once to comb the wavy black hair of Keno’s ears. The spaniel looked up and saw Meg leaning across the sill. He whimpered with pleasure and tried to prance about, but Philip held him firmly by the ear.
“Quiet, now, Keno! Behave yourself! We must have this loose hair combed out, you know.” He gave the dog a gentle cuff.
Meg’s cheeks dimpled. The stone sill felt cold and hard against her breast, but she did not mind. She pressed closer to it as she leaned out and made encouraging signs to Keno. His eyes were starting with excitement. He licked Philip’s hands and drew away from the comb.
Meg was just going to clap her hands to startle her father when she saw the figure of a man hurrying up the steep path from the ravine. As she turned her face in that direction a rich opulent smell came to her nostrils from the depths of moist earth and sun-warmed foliage there. Always afterward, when she thought of that morning, she was conscious of that smell.
Noah Binns came through the wicket gate and crossed the lawn in a jog trot. Meg drew behind the shelter of a curtain. Philip straightened himself at the sight of Noah’s face, and the released spaniel reared himself toward Meg and rolled his eyes joyously. For the space of a moment the crystal of the summer morning was suspended.
“Hullo, Noah,” said Philip. “What’s up? It’s the first time in my life I’ve seen you move out of a snail’s gallop.”
Noah gasped — “I’ve a turrible piece of news fur you!”
Philip stared at him, his eyes prominent.
“Mr. Vaughan found a baby on his doorstep a bit ago and he fell in a swoon, and I came along and there was a piece of paper lying on the ground, and I looked at it and it said the baby was fathered by young Mr. Vaughan, and it wasn’t no great shock to me, fur I’ve saw the two of ’em whisperin’ together in the woods more than once.”
“Which two?”
“The young feller and Elvira — the dressmaker’s niece. They were a pair up to no good, that was plain.”
Philip spoke slowly. “A young baby, you said. Did you see it?”
“Ay, I seen it. Wrapped in a shawl and its face not as big as my fist. The girl couldn’t have wasted much time fetchin’ it, fur it looked young if ever a critter did.”
“What was done with the child?”
Noah’s eyes twinkled. “Mrs. Vaughan, she come down when she heard it cryin’ and took it up. She was in a turrible state, too. I guess there won’t be no weddin’ now, sir, eh?”
“To hell with you and your impudence!” said Philip. He looked regretfully at his fishing rod and basket lying innocently on the green grass, at Keno grinning up at him. Then he picked up his things, chirped to his dog, and went back into the house.
Noah Binns looked after him resentfully.
“Dang him!” he said. “Dang ’em all!”
VIII
The Whiteoaks Ride Out
Philip slowly mounted the stairs, a troubled frown on his forehead. None of his family was yet up and his feet made no sound on the thick carpet. Outside Meg’s door he hesitated. Poor little girl, let her sleep happily while she could! The spaniel knew her room and well remembered having seen her at the window. He made as if to scratch at the door, but Philip caught him by the collar and gently dragged him along the passage. He opened the door of his own bedroom and closed it behind them.
His wife was fast asleep, the frill on the high collar of her nightdress giving her a quaint medieval appearance. She had thrown herself diagonally across the bed now that his big body was out of the way. Keno planted his paws on the side of the bed and licked her full on the mouth.
She started and pushed him away. “Oh, Philip, how could you let him do that?” She rubbed her lips on a corner of the sheet.
“I call that a gentle awakening,” said Philip, sitting down beside her. “Very different from the rude one I have in store for you.”
He was always teasing her. Now she was on her guard against him.
“I call that rude enough,” she answered, playing with Keno’s ears, for the dog had also established himself on the bed.
“I’m in earnest, Molly,” Philip said. “Something awful has happened. An infant was left on the Vaughan’s doorstep this morning, and it’s said young Maurice is the sire of it. I’m afraid poor little Meggie’s marriage is off. I thought I’d let you know first. Then I must tell Nick and Ernest. We’ll go over to Vaughanlands and raise hell. We’ll see what Robert Vaughan and that young whelp have to say for themselves.”
Mary stared up at him, dazed by the suddenness of the blow. Meg’s marriage off! It couldn’t be! It would be too dreadful! That marriage toward which she had strained for a year! That freedom from Meg’s presence which seemed like paradise! Why, in the last few months they had become quite friendly over the preparations for the wedding!
“But — Philip — it may not be true! Who told you?”
“Noah Binns. He saw the baby. He saw Robert Vaughan in a faint and read the note accusing Maurice. Unless he’s quite cracked it must be true.”
“What Noah saw — yes. But probably just a pack of lies as far as Maurice is concerned.”
“Let’s hope you’re right, Molly! We’ll soon find out! I’m going now to rouse Nick and Ernest.”
“I’ll behave as though nothing had happened, at breakfast. Where shall I say you three are?”
“In the stable. Spitfire dropped a foal last night.”
He went softly to Ernest’s room and entered without rapping.
Mary rolled over and hid her face in the crook of her arm. Black depression swept over her. It was true! The engagement would be broken off and Meg would remain at home for years to come, possibly as long as she lived. There were few eligible young men about. Meg was the only cause of discord between Philip and her self. He had always shamelessly spoilt the girl. Mary remembered her as she had first seen her, when she had come to Jalna to act as