12
They all went off about six o’clock, as the vicar had to take evensong in another parish.
I heard Mrs. Pascoe engage my cousin Rachel to pass an afternoon with her during the week, and each of the Pascoe daughters pressed their claims upon her too.
One wanted advice upon a watercolor, another had a set of covers to be worked in tapestry and could not decide upon the wools, a third always read aloud to a sick woman in the village every Thursday, could my cousin Rachel possibly accompany her, the poor soul had such a wish to see her.
“Indeed,” said Mrs. Pascoe, as we advanced through the hall to the front door, “there are so many people who desire to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Ashley, that I think you can reckon upon engagements every afternoon for the next four weeks.”
“She can do that very well from Pelyn,” said my godfather; “we are situated handily for visiting.
More so than here.
And I rather believe we are to have the pleasure of her company within a day or two.”
He glanced at me, and I made haste to reply and squash the idea before further entanglement was possible.
“Not so, sir,” I said, “my cousin Rachel remains here for the present.
Before she becomes involved in any outside invitations she has the whole of the estate to visit.
We begin tomorrow by taking tea at the Barton.
The rest of the farms must be taken in their turn.
Great offense will be given if she does not pay her respects to every one of the tenants in strict precedence.”
I saw Louise look at me wide-eyed, but I took no notice.
“Oh, well, yes of course,” said my godfather, in his turn surprised, “very right, very proper.
I would have suggested conducting Mrs. Ashley myself, but if you are prepared to do so that is quite another matter.
And if,” he went on, turning to my cousin Rachel, “you find yourself uncomfortable here—Philip will forgive me, I know, for saying this, but they have not been used to entertaining ladies here for many years, as you doubtless know, and things may be a little rough—or if you would like a woman’s company, I know my daughter will only be too ready to receive you.”
“We have a guest room at the vicarage,” said Mrs. Pascoe. “If at any time you should be lonely, Mrs. Ashley, always remember it is at your disposal.
We should be so happy to have you with us.”
“Indeed, indeed,” echoed the vicar; and I wondered if another tag of poetry was ready on his lips.
“You are all very kind and more than generous,” said my cousin Rachel.
“When I have done my duty here, on the estate, we will talk about it again, shall we?
Meanwhile, believe me grateful.”
There was much clatter and chatter and saying of good-byes, and the carriages drove away down the drive.
We went back into the drawing room.
The evening had passed pleasantly enough, heaven knows, but I was glad that they had gone and the house was silent once again.
She must have had the same thought, for as she stood a moment, looking around her in the drawing room, she said,
“I love the stillness of a room, after a party.
The chairs are moved, the cushions disarranged, everything is there to show that people enjoyed themselves; and one comes back to the empty room happy that it’s over, happy to relax and say, ‘Now we are alone again.’
Ambrose used to say to me in Florence that it was worth the tedium of visitors to experience the pleasure of their going.
He was so right.”
I watched her as she smoothed the covering of a chair, and touched a cushion.
“You don’t have to do that,” I told her.
“Seecombe and John and the rest will see to it tomorrow.”
“A woman’s instinct,” she said to me.
“Don’t look at me; sit down and fill your pipe.
Have you enjoyed yourself?”
“I have.” I lay sideways, sprawling on a stool.
“I don’t know why,” I added, “usually I find Sundays a great bore.
It’s because I’m not a conversationalist.
All I had to do today was to sit back in my chair and let you do the talking for me.”
“That’s where a woman can be useful,” she said; “it’s part of their training.
Instinct warns them what to do if conversation flags.”
“Yes, but you don’t make it obvious,” I said.
“Mrs. Pascoe is very different.
She goes on and on until one wants to scream.
No man ever got a chance to talk on other Sundays.
I can’t think what it is you did to make it all so pleasant.”
“So it was pleasant?”