Ghosts in the Corridor
The Rooses told me it wasn't "quite nice" for girls to loll in hammocks (and they sat on chairs)—that you could only do it when you are married; but I believe it is because they don't have pretty enough petticoats. Anyway, Lady Doraine and that horrid Smith creature made a place for me in the empty hammock between them, and, as I knew my "frillies" were all right, I hammocked too, and it was lovely. Lord Valmond and Mr. Wertz were lying near, and they said agreeable things, at least I suppose so, because both of them—Lady Doraine and Mrs. Smith—looked purry-purry-puss-puss. They asked me why I was so sleepy, and I said because I had not slept well the last night—that I was sure the house was haunted. And so they all screamed at me, "Why?" and so I told them, what was really true, that in the night I heard a noise of stealthy footsteps, and as I was not frightened I determined to see what it was, so I got up—Agnès sleeps in the dressing-room, but, of course, she never wakes—I opened the door and peeped out into the corridor. There are only two rooms beyond mine towards the end, round the corner, and it is dimly lit all night. Well, I distinctly saw a very tall grey figure disappear round the bend of the hall! When I got thus far every one dropped their books and listened with rapt attention, and I could see them exchanging looks, so I am sure they know it is haunted, and were trying to keep it from me. I asked Mrs. Smith if she had seen or heard anything, because she sleeps in one of the rooms. She looked perfectly green, but she said she had not heard a sound, and had slept like a top, and that I must have dreamt it.
Then Lady Doraine and every one talked at once, and Lord Valmond asked did any one know if the London evening papers had come. But I was not going to be put off like that, so I just said, "I know you all know it is haunted and are putting me off because you think I'll be frightened; but I assure you I am not, and if I hear the noise again I am going to rush out and see the ghost close."
Then every one looked simply ahuri. So I mean to get the ghost story out of Sir Trevor to-night after dinner—I had not a chance yesterday—as I am sure it is interesting. Mrs. Smith looked at me as if she wanted to poison me, and I can't think why specially, can you?
Twelve p.m.—I asked Sir Trevor if the house is haunted, and he said, "God bless my soul, no!" and so I told him, and he nearly had a fit; so I know it is, but I am not a bit frightened.—Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
Nazeby Hall, Sunday.
Dearest Mamma—Agnès and I go to Aunt Mary's by the 10:30 train to-morrow, and I am not a bit sorry, although I have enjoyed myself, and now I begin to feel quite at home with every one—at least, some of them; but such a tiresome thing happened last night. It was like this: After dinner it was so hot that we all went out on the terrace, and, as soon as we got there, Mrs. Smith and Lady Doraine and the rest said it was too cold, and went in again; but the moon was pretty, so I stayed alone, and presently Lord Valmond came out, and stood beside me. There is such a nice view, you remember, from there, and I didn't a bit want to talk.
A Kiss and a Blow
He said something, but I wasn't listening, when suddenly I did hear him say this: "You adorable enfant terrible, come out and watch for ghosts to-night; and I will come and play the ghost, and console you if you are frightened!" And he put his horrid arm right round my waist, and kissed me—somewhere about my right ear—before I could realise what he was at!
I was in a rage, as you can fancy, Mamma, so I just turned round and gave him the hardest slap I could, right on the cheek! He was furious, and called me a "little devil," and we both walked straight into the drawing-room.
I suppose I looked savage, and in the light I could see he had great red finger marks on his face. Anyway, Mrs. Smith, who was sitting on the big sofa near the window alone, looked up, and said in an odious voice, that made every one listen, "I am afraid, Harry, you have not enjoyed cooing in the moonlight; it looks as if our sweet Elizabeth had been difficult, and had boxed your ears!"
That made me wild, the impudence! That parvenue calling me by my Christian name! So I just lost my temper right out, and said to her, "It is perfectly true what you say, and I will box yours if you call me 'Elizabeth' again!"
Tableau! She almost fainted with astonishment and fury, and when she could get her voice decent enough to speak, she laughed and said—
"What a charming savage! How ingenuous!"
Lord Valmond in Disgrace
And then Lady Cecilia did a really nice thing, which shows that she is a brick, in spite of having bulgy eyes, and being absent and tiresome. She came up to me as if nothing had happened, and said, "Come, Elizabeth, they are waiting for you to begin a round game," and she put her arm through mine and drew me into the billiard-room, and on the way she squeezed my arm, and said, in a voice quite low down for her, "She deserved it," and I was so touched I nearly cried. From where I sat at the card-table I could see Mrs. Smith and Lord Valmond, and they were quarrelling. She looked like green rhubarb juice, and he had the expression of "Damn!" all over him.
Of course I did not say good-night to him, and I hope I shall never see him again.—Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
300 EATON PLACE
300 Eaton Place,
Tuesday, 2nd August.
London out of Season
Dearest Mamma—The train from Nazeby was so late and Aunt Mary seemed to think it was my fault—so unreasonable of her, just because they had waited lunch for me. I don't believe I like visiting very near relations as much as ones further off. They feel they can say anything to you. I am glad I have only got to sleep here the one night. I had not eaten my omelette before Aunt Mary began about my hair. She said of course it was very nice curling like that, but it was a pity I did not wear a net over it all to keep it more tidy. She was sure you spoilt me, even though we are rich, letting me have such smart clothes. She had heard from Nazeby, that I had had on a fresh frock every day. I don't know who could have written to her. She has got to look much older in the two years we have been abroad and the corners of her mouth shut with a snap. Perhaps it is having to spend part of the year with her mother-in-law.
Cousinly Curiosity
Lettice and Clara are just the same as they were, not a bit of difference since they came out. They are as tidy as can be, not a hair escapes from their nets! and their heads look as if they had dozens of hairpins in them, and because it is out of the season they have gone back to their country high linen collars, and they look as if they were choking. I hate linen collars, don't you, Mamma? Two Ethridge aunts are staying here besides me, and we all have to sit together in the morning-room, as everything is covered up in the drawing-rooms, ready for being shut up next week, when they go to Scotland. After lunch the girls did nothing but question me about what we had done at Nazeby. They said Lady Cecilia only asks them to the dullest parties. They knew every one's name, they had carefully read them in the Morning Post. They wanted especially to know about Lord Valmond because Lettice had danced with him once this season. They thought him awfully good-looking. I said he was an odious young man and very rude. So Lettice said she supposed he had not spoken to me, as he never speaks to girls. I told them that was quite a mistake as he had spoken to me all the time, but I hated him. And do you know, Mamma, they looked as if they did not believe a word I was saying; which was not very polite I think.
When we got upstairs they wanted to see all my clothes, but fortunately Agnès had only taken out one or two things, and they asked me to let their maid take patterns of everything. Of course I could not refuse, but I hate my things being mauled over by strange females, and Agnès was simply furious. I am sure she will scratch the maid when she comes to ask for a frock. They tried on my hats all at the wrong angle, first Clara, then Lettice, and made faces and gave little screams at themselves in the glass, and no wonder, for they looked perfect