A Country House Party

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LII, Issue 8474, 20 December 1923, Page 4

A Country House Party

Suddenly Thomson , took a tremendous resolution. Glancing over the, “Times’ advertisements one mcining near Christmas, his imagination was stirred by a number of attractions offer ed for Christmas at Iho seaside and in the country. They were as varied as they were numerous. Some bolding offered “the home from heme*” which wise travellers avoid; seme tabulated the creature comforts, laying sp-cid stress on the cuisine; while others marshalled with pride the entertainment to be* provided for the Christmas guests— the.dancing floor, the fancy dress ball, yc-ung and congenial company. It was the last, sentence that did it. Thomson needed congenial com pany, because he was a lone’y man. The Manor of Hillingtou, Berks, invited him for a consideration, to become a Christmas guest. That was the- house which offered young and congenial society. That very day he wrote asking accommodation, describing him as a, city man who required rest and change. Tic- heard from the- Manor cf Hillingtou by return of post, and another letter fixed up the transaction and registered him as a guest for whom accommodation was served. * “Going to Scotland for Christmas this year, eh, Thomson?” inquired old Mr Tarland, the* head of the firm, meeting him cn the stairs one afternoon as he passed from one department to another. “No, sir, only into the- country. Berkshire, a. country house visit,” answered Thomsen airily. “Very good to, hope-you’ll enjoy it No place like the country when you get there, and happen to* like it. Town’s good enough for me.” Thomas left Paddington with a well packed suit case, a new overcoat, and a smart suit) of country clothes. It was- a fifty minutes’ run, and he arrived at Hillingtou I’gna- station in lovely, clear starlight, which contrasted favourably with the- muggy and very un-Christ-mas he* had left in London. ~

He looked around anxiously at thy station for other country house guests, but the only one was a woman, quite young, wearing a long fur coat and a coquettish hat. She was superintending the extraction of a large dress trunk from the luggage van as Thomson passed. When he heard ‘her say “Manor of Hillington” he felt a thrill down his spine.

Ho quickened his steps to the outside, hoping to find some vehicle waiting, but there! was none, “No° sir, nothing come from * the Manor. They ain't got anything to conic, sir” he explained, "It’s a fly from the village, mostly, the Cock and Hoop, yon know, but theyse ail cut this afternoon, I knew. “Oh,” said Thomson, “is it far to walk?” “Matter o’ two mile, sir; only a mile by tire woods, but you might get lost by takiu’ the wrong turin’ in the dark.” 1/1 advise you to wait till 'o'd Joe Baggies comes up for the ‘-.even-ten.” “What! Nothing from Hillingtcn Manor? How utterly disgusting,” cried a fresh, clear, young voice. “They knew' I was coming? Isn t there anything to be got to. take me up?” . ~ At that Thomson, with considerable inward tremors, stepped forward, raising his soft hat. “Excuse me, madam, but we seem t., be in the, same plight I'm -bound for the Manor of Hdhngton .... j’ve just heard it’s two miles oft. 1 thought I’d walk. My name is Thomson —Harold Thomson. I suggest that we walk and leave olll \ stuff to he brought in the-fly^ of a person, name of Joe Baggies. “Oh!” said the young person again. “Well, I don’t mind. My name’s! Dartlet—- Rosa Dartle. Thomsen once more slightly raised his hat. Where had he heard that name before? It was not untill he was in bed that night that he remembered that Rosa, Daitle was thci name of a rather unpleasant person in Dickens' book, “Dombey and Son.” _ . . “I don’t mind if Ido walk, said Miss Dartle. "It would he rather slow kicking cur heels in this Godforsaken station, wouldn’t it? But can we he sure the stuff will he brought up by the Baggios gentleman?”,

“I’ll see to that, Miss,” put m the porter civilly, and in Ins eyes there was rather an amused look. They decided to trust him, ■_ and walked cff together, after receiving his, instructions as to the route. “I shouldn’t call this good business, would you, Mr Thomson, not for people anxious to encourage paying guests. That’s what we are, aren’t we?” “Yes, I answered an advertisement in the 'Times'.’ Have you been here before?”

“Good gracious, no. I don t

know that! I've any particular business, here now, but one must go somewhere for Christmas, and at the place where I live nothing much seemed to be offering, so I thought I would do a small flutter on my own.” .

“Precisely my case,” said Thomson delightedly. “I belong far north.” ‘ . ■“Scotch?” suggested Miss* Dartle with a swift side glance. “Thought -go fre in your accent. “I don’t think it so- pronounced as all thati, but I’m not ashamed of it.” ~ “It would be very queer if you* were. Most cf your countrymen are simply bulging with conceit about their nationality, and always thtlisting it at you. I haven t much use for them myself.” “I hope I shall prove at least inoffensive,” observed Thomson meek“Oh, I think you will. Shall we pretend we know one another as we’ve arrived together ? ’ “Charmed, I’m sure,” said Thomson, and spoke* as if he meant it. “Well’ you see I shan’t know anyone, and it will give us a. feeling of confidence. It’s quite often done new. People who know one another arrange to go to the same place fur holidays. I tried to get a girl tc come with me, but at the last minute she was, prevented.” “None of the rest of your people could come with you?” “Nc, and they don't know I’m here,” replied Rosa Dartlewith an amazing- confidence. “They d a fit, my old; uncle and aunt. They think I’m spending Christmas with the very girl I’ve just spoken about. If they ever find out—well, they’ll have- no more use for me, I’m afraid.”

Thomson was still further amazed at this confidence, but there was something so sincere and attractive about his fellow guest that he had no* reason to doubt it. “We might be cousins,” presently. “It would save quite a lot of trouble, and give us all the freedom we need U> go about together. Then we could dance. Do you dance?” “Yes, after a fashion,” answered Thomson, rather lamely. Miss Darble was quick to observe the slight strain in his voice. “You’d rather not,” she said quickly. “Do say sc if you feel like that. I height to think I’ve done a very foolish thing, and I wish I could go home again, but I can’t. I think you’re a good sort that would help a damsel in distress to the extent of being a cousin for three or four days.” Thomson laughed, and the sound was pleasant! and reassuring on the

night air. He was enjoying himself immensely, and having a slice of quite new* experience*. The spirit of adventure was abroad in The Berkshire lanes that night; quite innocent adventure, which stirred the blood and made life suddenly become an amazing thing full of the most cheerful possibilities. Thomson explained his situation, described himself as that mysterious “something in the city” which covers a multitude of hazard;: if not cf sins, but did not mention the name of the firm with which hcwas identified. Miss Rosa Da Ale listened interestedly, putting in a werd here and there* sympathising with his* loneliness and his desire for change, which partook of the essence of her own unrest.

“But you’ve the whip hand every time, being a man,” she said, with a little- catch in her voice. “The odds are always against the girl. I’ts whatever you’re doing, don’t do it, world without end! I wish I’d been born 1 a man.” “Oh, but the world would have been so* much the poorer,” began Thomson eagerly. Miss Dartle stepped dead in the road.

“Now, if you’re going to talk ! like that we part company here and ( now. When I looked at you at the station I dicl'nt think you were that sort. Perhaps it was the* oil-lamp camouflaged your real self.” “I’m not that sort, answered Thomson meekly, “and I humbly beg your pardon. I promise not to offend again. But I should have thought in these days that all the odds were with the girl. That's what the papers tell us, anyhow. The woman’s age, you know, and we’re to be wiped cut.” “I don’t see it,” returned Miss Dartle in her quite normal voice. “In my estimation it’s only a move on the board for your sex to get more power. I say, do you suppose we' shall soon be' at this blinking place- and who’s going to do the explaining?” “We shan’t do any, - ’ said Thomsen, firmly. “Not any at all, Obviously the' line to take is just indignation about not being met.” “Splendid! Well, you’ll do it. I leave everything to you,” said Miss Dartle; and on that understanding they arrived at the distinctly pretentious looking gates of Hilliugton Manor. It was an old property that had fallen on evil days and been bought for a mere song ati the moment when there was a slump in' big bouses. It was now being run for a profit by an enterprising ex-officer and his very capable wife. They were gentlepeoplo, whom fortune had treated scurvily, but they knew how to cater for country house guests, and did it well. They received the walking couple with many apologies, and promised to see that the luggage was brought up without, undue delay. Miss Dartle decided that the assemblage of guests were a motley crew 1 when she descended to the drawing room three-quarters of an hour 1 later, a demure but attractive figure in a black net frock with ai bunch of roses at her waist. Her dear eyes detected all the makeshifts in the furnishing and, appoint mentis of the house, and were quick enough to spot the weakness of the payingguest system. You can’t select your guests. You have to take what comes, and, when you have your living to make, can’t afford to pick ami choose except on the broadest lines.

There were about a. score of people in the drawing room, some them all right, and some of them frankly impossible, according to Miss Battle’s standard. She won-

for instance, Mbw Major and Mrs Tristram could stand a very vulgar, decollete mother and two daughters, painted and rouged, attired in brief skirts and diaphanous bodices. Also, there were some rather objectionable-looking men. Miss Dartle found herself seated beside one at the table—a long one* of the usual type. It made her think of old days at Swiss and German resorts, when her father and mother came to take her hack by circuitous routes, from her foreign school. There were some small tables, but they had been taken. Miss Dartle could not see Thompson at all, because he was seated at one behind her, and good manners forbade her to turn round to discover what he was about and who were his vis-arvis. Miss Dartle had one of the un-der-dressed ones on one side of her, and a.fat, middle aged man who tucked 1 his napkin in at his collar and ate his soup audibly. “Jolly little place this, eh?—especially for lonely folks,” he began affably, “Ever been here before?”

“God forbid I’’ very nearly came from Miss Dartle’s lips. All she succeeded in getting out, however, was a, faint, indecisive “Nov” “Hear jolly, and I must say they do well. It was a topping dinner last night. Of course they’re doffs, the Tristrams. They know how to treat people. Goin’ to stay long?” Miss Dartle had a great aversion to people who clipped their words and never sounded a “g,” but she tried to swallow her aversion and to be polite. That is the worst of being a paying guest: you’re expected to be polite to : other paying guests, all the time, whatever you or they may be like. It was rather an appalling thought. She longed for Thomson, with his quiet, respectful manner, ,liia beautiful clear speech, with the slight Scotch breadth and music in it; his quick readiness to see the queer side of things. She imagined herself walking the lanes in the dear dark with this over-friendly specimen, and inwardly shuddered.

“Gobi’ to stay long—all the ’olidays, I hope V ’ said her fellow guest eagerly." Got a rippin’ dance floor here, and a gel that plays the piano a treat. We had quite a nice little ’op last night. Are you goin’ to stay long?”

“No,” said Miss Dartle boldly; “culy till Monday.*’

"Ah, ha! Only a week end flutter, ch? \VWs with you?" 1 (r .O' U ly a covism—ke &at another ble '’said Miss Dartle calmly, couldn't sit together, because ■ were the latest arrivals, but Mrs Tristram has promised to an an go 11S better tomorrow.” It was a decided rebuff, but then, if you happen to be a person who do^n ’t take buffs, who .‘imply doesn’t see them, what is to be done? Obviously, adopt some other tactics- It wag not a long dinner, but Miss Dartle was thankful when ' was over. The young lady in pink tulle evidently was annoyed with her for engrossing the attention & f the gentleman who clipped his '* : words. Until the new arrival lie had been paying his chief attention to her. As Miss Dartle left the room she cast a distinctly appealing glance at Thomson, which had the effect of making him rise and follow her into the hall, which was al- ., wa y.j spoken of by the guests as «the lounge.” Mi&s Dartle turned .’■■"■to him with a. look of resief > ams ' made a queer little wry face. "Oh, what a queer lot! How did you get on?” You had all men a t your fable. X rather envied you. ■But you will see that we sit together tomorrow, cousin - cousin what shall I call von?' “Harold,” answered Thomson; and into his eyes crept a, mest amused look. He was enjoying himself immensely, and felt more aito more drawn to the girl, who so evidently regarded him as a friend, if not actually as a compaion in distress "Of course,i, I see what, a mistake • k was. A girl oughu’t -to- come to a place like this by herself. The old fories are right, after all. I’ve a very good mind to tell Mrs Tristram all about it. She looks such a good sort, and is a lady. How she can stick this sort of thing, goodness only knows.” “1 expect she has her living to w,,” suggested Thomson, blinking his ’kind "eyes significantly. “I’d rather char at my uncle’s office in Heed Lane---! reajly would.” said Miss Dartle, with conviction. “Reed Lane—that’s where I spend my happy working day's,” said Thomson with a smile. "One more link between us.” ■ “Is it a nice place? I’ve often threatened Uncle Silas with a. visit, but he was never very encouraging. Oh, goodness! Here they arecoining out, All I want is to be protected from the gentleman who 'talks abqut ‘rippin’ and 'goin’.’ You will protect me, won’t you?” Thomson could have reelin' that he would do' it with his I'U’ when she looked like that, but he had not the opportunity. The stout one bore down upon diem imraediabb. Tie was even plainer than _ before 1 , for the vast expanse of shirt front had got raffled and stood out, also, his face was flushed and his smile a trifle fatuous. Compared wrth him how cool and' fine Thomson looked, in' his well fitting dinner jacket, neat Wack tie, and slnn figure. Miss Dartle felt! her heart ' warm to him. The elderly Lothar-

io, whose name was Remington, tried to devote himself ro Mias Dartle from that moment onward. Next day, to escape his attentions, she begged Thomson to make an excursion with her to ruins in ti.e neighbouitincd. When they went off together immediately after lunch, several significant glances were exchanged, and it was passed round that though they might be cousins, tfiey were also an engaged couple. They had a very- happy afternoon together, walking steadily across the frozen fields, enjoying the clear, crisp air and one another’s company. Thomsen was a modest unassuming young man, but well read, and a good conversationalist when fairly started. He was delighted to find that Miss Dartle was a

great reader, and there is no finer

bond than sympathy alxait books. “I think Uni rather glad I came after all,” said Miss Dartle as they turned their faces homewards after their five-mile walk and inspection of the old inonastry; “but what I should have done without you, Heaven alone knows! My dfiood curdles at the thought.” Thomson laugh ted. “And I without you. What should I have done among that queer crowd?” “Oh, you could have made up with the pink lady. Perhaps I’ve kept you from her engaging side?” observed Miss Dartle with a. little demure side l glance. “Possibly, but the chances are against it. I should probably have made up lo the long-faced clergyman and tried to retrieve him from his slough of despond about modern life and maimers.” “Oh, is that his line? Well, I’d better not get into conversation with him, or he might dub me'an awful example. He ought: to give his mind to Mr Pennington, and try to improve him.” “Pennington perhaps isn’t so bad when you kn’ow him,” said Thomson, disposed at that happy moment to a large charity. “He reminds me a little of one of the' partners at our office, a man called Wingfield. He annoys Mr Tarland, but--

“What is it now?” asked! Thom-

son, as Miss 1 Dartle stood still on the path, planting her shepherd’s crook on the hard ground and staring hard. “Tarland, did you say—mean to say-—”

“Mean to B a,y what?” “That you’re at Tarland’s office?”

“Yes. I’m the managing clerk in the firm of Tarland, Gibson and Wingfield,” answered Thomson a trifle stiffly, but at the same time finite glad of the opportunity of stating his .case exactly. He knew 1 nothing about the subterfuges & pretensions adopted by men of a certain brand who masquerade at holiday quarters as persons of importance, s,dmet i m e s even" personating their own employers. Thomson was far loo 1 straight and sincere tot think of such a thing. What disquieted’ him was that ho was beginning to- be far too deeply interested in this fascinating, live

creature, sc ditfereht from any woman he had ever met. “Why shouldn’t I be at Tarland s office? Anything against it?” he asked, wondering why she continued to stare at him.

“Ill’s Nemesis, or fate, or whatever is the malign influence which pursues me. I’m not Rosai Dartle at all—l’m Madgei Tarland.” “Ob!” said Thomson, and took a step back in his astonishment. “Didn't it strike you that there was something queer about my name? Of course, if I’d known you were such a reader I’d have adopted a less flagrant nom-de-plume,” “ ‘Alias’ is the word,” said Thomson, with a dry smile of pure amusement.

“No, pardon me, it's only an alias when the police are after you, and I haven’t committed any crime—only an indiscretion. But if you lived with Uncle Silas ”

“I work with him,” observed Thomson; but his look was singularly blank. Prom it Miss Tarland could not guess whether he was shocked or merely puzzled. “Then' you do understand,” she said. “But you escape from him, after your working day is over. 1 never do. Then there’s Aunt Caroline, as well. I’m in a cage. I wanted a little flutter—a perfectly innocent one; but my sin has found me out —I had to tell lies. Lies don’t pay, Harold ’Thomson, from any point of view.” “I’m sure of it. But yours, so far, haven’t clone any great harm.” “No, but I’ve lost your respect. I can see that. What are you going to do about it, then—wire to Uncle Silas?”

“It's no business of mine, and if ”

“If I might! presume to advise, I'd say, let us go on to the end of the holiday and make the best of it. Explanations can come after if necessary. I rather think they are going to b© necessary, but I’ll be in the offing when the critical moment cornea”

Madge Tarland’s colour rose, and she began to walk on, totally unable to account for the queer feeling which stole over her.

She took his? advice, however, and remained’ at the Manor of Hillington for five. days. On the last night they went for a stroll together in the moonlight after dinner. Their fellow guests, firmly believing that they were engaged, had left them pretty much alone, and both had been glad of it—how glad they were just finding out, now that the moment of parting was at hand.

“I say, Miss Dartle,” said Thomson, “they think we’re engaged inside.”

“Do they?” asked Madge, “Well, then, have you told - them they’re wrong?” “Fo, because I hope it’s going to be true,” he said quietly. “T believe yon and I had to come here as

country house guests. There was no other way for us tlo get to know one another. What do you say, Madge?” “I’ve told so many lies,” said Madge ruefully. “I don’t see' how, von are ever to forget them. You’d never trust me, would you? You'd be thinking of me as liu-sa Dartle. Then, what about Uncle Silas? 1 shiver when I think of him. How can we ewer explain hew we happen-c-d to meet?”

“Merely by saying we were country house guests together. But don’t you worry about Unclei Silas. The other thing is all that matters, really.” “What other thing?” 1 “Weill, how it is with you and me. I love you, darling. 1 want you for my wife. You do care a little, don’t you?” “I would be an ungrateful wretch if I didn’t, after all your goodness. Think how you saved; me from the Pennington persecution by being a cousin- ”

“Cousins sometimes fall in love,’ suggested Thomson, hopefully.

“Do they?” “Yes, and even ‘marry.” “Oh, well ” said Madge, and the next moment she had no chance 1 to speak, for her face was hidden on a. lover’s breast. The wise old Christmas moon, whichl sees so much and never tells, looked down on another happy betrothal, and t bore was im doubt in the minds of two of the country housei guests at Hillinglon Manor that they had spent the very happiest Christmas in their lives.