on the morning after the hunt ball the clinton twins rose, as usual with them in the winter, about half-past eight o'clock. in the summer they were up and out of doors at all sorts of unorthodox hours, but in the cold long nights they slept like young hibernating animals, snuggling amongst their warm coverings, and occasionally having to be extricated by all the powers of persuasion, moral and physical, possessed by miss bird. miss bird had now departed and the new governess had not yet arrived, so they were their own mistresses within limits, and responsible for their own tidy and punctual appearance at the breakfast-table.
hannah, the schoolroom maid, brought in their tea and bread and butter at eight o'clock, drew up their blinds, set out their bath (for there were no bathrooms at kencote), and then applied herself to the task of arousing them. "now, miss joan and miss nancy," she said in a loud, confident voice, as if she had only to tell them to get up and they would get up immediately. "i've brought your 'ot water. miss joan! miss nancy! eight o'clock! time to get up! miss joan! miss nancy!"
joan stirred, opened her eyes, closed them again, turned over and buried herself in the bedclothes again. "now, miss joan," said hannah, quick to pursue her advantage, "don't go dropping off to sleep again. 'ere's yer tea all ready and yer 'ot water gitting cold. miss nancy! time to get up!"
"go away," said joan in a sleepy voice. "i'm awake."
"yes, and you'll be asleep again in a minute if you don't set up and drink yer tea. now, miss joan, you don't want me to stand 'ere all the morning wasting me time with the whole 'ouse full and me wanted to 'elp."
"then go and 'elp, and don't bother," replied joan sleepily.
"miss nancy!" cried hannah. "i know you ain't asleep. set up and drink yer tea. miss nancy! lor'! the trouble i 'ave now miss bird's gone, and only me to see that everything's right up 'ere and you ain't late downstairs, which you know i should be blamed and not you if you wasn't down in time."
this roused joan, who opened her eyes again and said, "it's nothing to do with you whether we're late or not. you're always full of your own importance. i'm quite awake now and you can clear out," and she sat up in bed, and took her cup from the table between the two beds.
"not till miss nancy sets up i won't," said hannah. "i know she's awake and it's only contrariness as makes her pretend not to be."
"nancy, do sit up and let her go," entreated joan, "or she'll go on jabbering like a monkey for hours. my nerves won't stand it at this time of the morning."
nancy sat up suddenly and reached for her cup. "depart, minion!" she commanded.
"now you won't go to sleep again after you've 'ad yer tea," said hannah. "i shall come back in 'alf an hour to do yer 'airs, and if you ain't up and ready for me, i shall acquaint mrs. clinton, for reelly the trouble i 'ave in this very room every morning as sure as the sun rises, no young ladies as calls theirselves young ladies wouldn't be'ave so."
"parse that sentence," said nancy, and hannah, with a toss of the head, left the room.
"hannah's getting above herself," said joan. "she seems to think now starling's gone she's been promoted to her place."
"we'll let her go a little further," said nancy, "and then we'll pull her off her perch. what's the weather like? not raining, is it? i say, we ought to have some fun to-day, joan. who shall you stand with?"
the kencote coverts were to be shot over that day, and the twins were allowed to accompany the guns on such occasions as these.
"i don't know; uncle herbert, i think. he's the most amusing."
"joan, you know quite well i bagged uncle herbert in the schoolroom yesterday," said nancy.
"did you? i'd forgotten. you can have him in the morning and i'll go with him in the afternoon. i think i shall go with bobby trench, and see if he's as clever as he thinks he is."
"you can't, my dear; you're too old. it would be considered forward. besides, he's an awful little ass."
"that's what i wanted to convey to him. but i think i'll go with humphrey. he hasn't tipped us for ages, and one of us must attend to business."
"you can't do that either. he'll want that simpering lady susan. joan, i believe there's more in that than meets the eye."
"penny, please," said joan, holding out her hand. "you said you would if i caught you saying that again."
"all right, when i get up. i forgot. why don't you go with george senhouse?"
"he's too serious, and this is a holiday. besides, he doesn't hit them. i hate bloodshed, but i like to see something done. i wish dear old dick were here. he'd bowl them over all right."
"i wonder," said nancy, "when all that bother is going to stop. dear papa will have to give way in the end, you know. he might just as well do it now and save time."
"if i were dick i should just marry her and let him make the best of it. i wish he'd do something. father has really been too tiresome for words for the last month. if you and i behaved like he does we should be sent to bed, and serve us right. i wonder what happened last night. i expect she was at the ball."
"he wouldn't take any notice of her if she was. i wish we could set eyes on her. i should like to see what she's really like."
"cicely says she's very pretty."
"well, i suppose she'd have to be that if dick wants to marry her. aren't men funny about women, joan? now i suppose you'd call that silly little bobby trench good-looking, but i should no more want to marry him than the ugliest man in the world."
"that isn't much of a discovery. you needn't have lived very long to find out that women are much more sensible than men."
with this aphorism joan rose and proceeded to her toilette, and nancy, after indulging in another short nap, followed her example.
the squire, refreshed by his night's slumber, rose determined to do his duty by his guests and put from him for the day all thoughts of lady george dubec and, what was more difficult, of his son dick. mrs. clinton, when she had returned from the ball, very late, had found him in a deep sleep in the great canopied bed which she had shared with him for so many years. he had not awakened during her long muffled process of undressing, nor when she slipped, careful to make no noise and as little movement as possible, into bed by his side. but before she slept he had turned over and, half asleep still, murmured, "good-night, nina. god bless you." it had been his nightly farewell of her for nearly forty years, uttered often with no special meaning, sometimes even without interval at the end of some unreasonable expression of annoyance. but last night the words had come softly and affectionately, as if, returning for a moment from the pleasant land of oblivion, where he had been wandering and to which he was immediately returning, he had been glad to find her waiting for him, his close companion, valued above others. she had put her hand softly on to his, and lain for a long time, in the deep silence of the night, in that light contact.
the common life of the household at kencote began with family prayers at a quarter-past nine, at which, on this saturday morning, lady aldeburgh and her daughter, sir herbert birkett, bobby trench, and humphrey failed to put in an appearance. the judge had been up at seven, reading in his bedroom, and appeared with the breakfast dishes, but humphrey did not arrive until five minutes later, and the presence of guests did not avert from him the invariable rebuke of unpunctuality. "i wish you'd manage to get up in decent time when you're here," said the squire. "where's young trench?"
"in his bedroom, i suppose," replied humphrey coolly, inspecting the dishes on the side-table.
the squire said nothing further, but when he, with most of the party, was leaving the room half an hour later, and met bobby trench, to whom the morning light had apparently brought a renewal of self-content, entering it, he greeted him with an earnest enquiry after his health.
"oh, i'm as bobbish as possible, thank you," replied bobby trench brightly.
"i'm glad of that," said the squire, passing on. "i thought as you didn't come down at the proper time you must have been feeling poorly."
bobby trench stared at his broad retreating back in amazement. "lor'! what a house!" was his inward exclamation, as he went on into the dining-room.
humphrey, who was deliberate in his meals, was still at the table, and joan was leaning on the back of his chair. she was making some suggestion as to pecuniary profit to herself and nancy from the day's sport, which yet should not amount to a bet.
"hullo, old man!" said humphrey. "joan, ring the bell. everything must be cold by this time."
joan hesitated. such a proceeding was unheard of at kencote, where, if people came down late for breakfast, they must expect it to be cold. but bobby trench politely anticipated her. "don't you trouble, miss joan," he said, going to the bell himself. "i say, are you going to stand with me to-day and see me shoot?"
if nancy had been there to support her she would have asked innocently, "can you shoot?" for although she liked being addressed as "miss joan," she did not like bobby trench's free and easy air. but maiden modesty replied for her, "i think i'm going with humphrey."
"she wants me to give her a shilling for every bird i miss, and she'll give me sixpence for every one i knock over. how does that strike you for a soft thing?"
a footman came in at that moment, and looked surprised at the order that was given him.
"do you want heverythink cooked, sir, or only some fresh tea?" he asked, with a glance at the table where the lamps were still sizzling under the hot dishes.
"we live a life of rigid punctuality in this house," humphrey apologised, when he had retired with his order. "they don't understand renewing the supplies."
"sorry to give so much trouble," replied bobby trench, "but i'm pretty peckish, to tell you the truth. dancing always gives me a twist. look here, miss joan, i'll bet you half a dozen pair of gloves i kill more birds than humphrey."
"take him, joan; it's a certainty," said humphrey.
joan was secretly enchanted at being treated as of a glovable age, but she answered primly, "thank you, mr. trench, i'm not allowed to bet."
"oh, ho!" jeered humphrey. "what about that shilling you and nancy got from me?"
"dick said we ought not to have done it, and we weren't to do it any more," said joan.
humphrey was silent. bobby trench, who was good-natured enough to take pleasure in the innocent conversation of extreme feminine youth, especially when it was allied to beauty, as in the case of the twins, said, "well, of course, you must always do what you're told, mustn't you? but i'll tell you what, we won't call it a bet, but if i don't kill more birds than humphrey i'll give you six pairs of gloves—see? only you'll have to stand by me half the time and him half the time, to count."
"oh, she doesn't want gloves," said humphrey, with some approach to his father's manner. "cut along upstairs, joan, or you'll have miss bird after you."
"miss bird has departed," said joan, but she went out of the room, somewhat relieved at the conclusion of what might have developed into an embarrassing episode.
at half-past ten the big shooting-brake appeared at the door, and the whole party, men and women, got into it, with the exception of mrs. clinton, and lady aldeburgh and her daughter, who had not yet made an appearance. the squire had been extremely annoyed at this. "she's as strong as a horse," he had said of his kinsman's wife, "and when she stays in other people's houses she ought to keep their hours. and as for the girl, if she can't get up to breakfast after a ball, she oughtn't to go to balls. i'll tell you what, nina, i'm hanged if i'm going to keep the whole party waiting for them. we start at half-past ten sharp, and if you can't rout 'em out by then, you must wait and bring 'em on afterwards in the carriage."
mrs. clinton had not felt equal to the task of routing out her guests, and the brake had driven off, within three minutes of the half-hour, without them.
it was a deliciously mild morning. the sun, shining palely in a sky of misty blue, gave it an illusive air of spring; blackbirds whistled in the copses; the maze of tree-twigs in distant woods showed purple against the wet green of the meadows; the air was virginally fresh, and had the fragrance of rich moist earth and a hint of wood smoke. brown beech leaves still clung to the hedges on either side of the deep muddy country lanes, and blackberries, saturated with dew, on the brambles.
servants and dogs and guns had been sent on a quarter of an hour before. the squire, on these important occasions, when he took the cream of his preserves and began at an outlying wood, to finish up just before dark with the home coverts, liked to drive up to the place appointed and find everything ready for an immediate start. beaters must be in place ready for the whistle on the instant. guns must be posted for the first drive with no delay whatever. there was a lot to get through before dusk, and no time must be wasted. if those who were asked to shoot at kencote on the big days did their parts, he—and dick—and the keepers would do theirs and show them as pretty a succession of drives, with an occasional walk over stubble or a field of roots to vary the proceedings, as they would get anywhere in england. only there must be no dawdling, and the women who were permitted to look on must subordinate their uncontrolled natures to the business in hand.
all the arrangements necessary to make the machinery run without a hitch, so that none of the full day's programme should be hurried, meant a great deal of preliminary consultation and adjustment. bunch, the head-keeper, admirable in his capacity for generalling his little army of beaters and for faithfully carrying out instructions, had no initiative of his own, and the squire had always relied upon dick—and relied on him much more than he knew—for arranging the plan of campaign. this time he had had to do it alone, with much consequent irritation to himself and bewilderment and head-scratching to honest, velveteen-clad bunch. and he had relied on dick's coolness—also much more than he knew—to get the guns posted expeditiously and with as little friction of talk and enquiry as possible. to-day he would have to rely on humphrey to help him, and humphrey was as yet untried in this capacity. he was anxious and worried as he drove, sitting on the high box-seat beside his coachman, and itching to handle his horses himself as he always did except on shooting days, when he wanted to save his hands. usually he sat behind, but this morning he felt he could not take his part in the talk and laughter that went on in the body of the brake. he was not at all sure how the day would turn out. there were several points at which a hitch might occur. following a light suggestion of dick's, he had arranged to take high beach wood the opposite way to that in which it had always been taken, and he was not at all sure that bunch had fully understood his testily given instructions—or, indeed, that he fully understood them himself. nor was he quite certain of his guns, and he wanted to kill a respectable head of game. the two local notabilities whom he had invited, old mr. wilkinson, of birfield, and colonel stacey, who lived in a villa in bathgate, and shot steadily through the season within a radius of forty miles, he could rely on. humphrey was a good shot, though not so good as dick. sir herbert birkett was surprisingly good, for a londoner, on his day, but when it wasn't his day he was surprisingly bad, and didn't even care enough about it to make the usual lamentations. george senhouse enjoyed it thoroughly, but never touched a feather. hammond-watt and bobby trench he knew nothing whatever about, but it was unlikely that either of them would turn out above the average. he could only hope that they would not turn out very much worse. at any rate, at the best, it was not a team that could be expected to create a record in the kencote preserves, and at the worst might bring disgrace on them.
he could not help thinking of these things and worrying about them. if dick had been there he would have calmed those uneasy tremors. he would have told him that the birds would show up well, even if the guns didn't, that the experts were at least equal to the duffers and the doubtfuls, putting everything in a hopeful light, not anticipating any possible hitch, but quite ready to deal with it if it should come. dick never lost sight of the fact that they were out for a day's sport; the squire fussed and worried so about trifles that all such sense of pleasure was apt to leave him. he had an uneasy, half-defined feeling that his temperament caused him to err in this way, and it made him want dick, who could relieve him of the weight of small anxieties, all the more. he was learning how much he had been wont to depend on his son. one of the impulses of appeal and affection, which continually shot across the stiff web of his obstinate determination, came to him now, and if dick could have appeared at that moment he would have welcomed him with open arms, and given way in everything. but dick was away, he did not know where, and with a sigh he resigned himself to the prospect of a day of anxiety.
they came to an open gate by the roadside and drove in through a strip of wood until they came to an open space in front of a keeper's cottage. it stood, backed by trees, facing a wide sloping meadow, which was completely surrounded by a wood of oak and beech, intermixed with spruce and some firs. the little group of loaders with their masters' guns and cartridge-bags stood ready by the palings, the glossy coated retrievers waved welcoming tails as the brake drove up, the hoof-beats of the horses muffled on the thick grass. the beaters were already in line at the other end of the wood, far out of sight, waiting for bunch's signal. there was nothing to do but place the guns and prepare for the stream of pheasants which would presently begin to fly over them. except that neither mr. wilkinson nor colonel stacey had yet arrived.
it was the first check to the prompt orderly proceedings of the day. the squire, taking his gun from the hands of an under-keeper and filling the pockets of his wide shooting-jacket with cartridges, gave vent to a forcible expression of irritation. "now there we are, held back at the very start!" he exclaimed. "'pon my word, it's too bad of those fellows. i told 'em eleven o'clock sharp, and they've shot here dozens of times before and know the place as well as i do."
"it's only just five minutes to eleven," said humphrey, and as he spoke mr. wilkinson's dog-cart drove in from the wood, bringing himself and colonel stacey, all ready for immediate business. before eleven o'clock struck from the cuckoo-clock in the keeper's kitchen the whole party was walking down the meadow to line the borders of the wood and do what execution they might.
humphrey showed himself efficient in translating the squire's intentions as to the placing of the guns, from the notes he had jotted down on a sheet of letter paper. he knew that inextricable confusion would arise later if those notes were to be followed literally, but trusted to be able to arrange things by word of mouth when the time came, as most people were content to do.
so they stood and waited. from the keeper's cottage up the hill you could have seen the eight little groups, standing expectantly on the grass at a short distance from the wood, following the curve of its line. behind each stood a gaitered loader with another gun ready to hand to his master. the women, in clothes not distinguishable in colour from those of the men, stood with them; the dogs squatted by the side of their masters or tugged at leashes held by the men. blackbirds popped in and out of the wood, and thrushes, but there were few sounds of life. there was a hush of expectancy, and otherwise only the deep winter stillness of nature, and the pale sun, and the wet odour of the soil.
