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A Modern Tomboy: A Story for Girls, a fiction by L. T. Meade |
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Chapter 11. Booby-Traps |
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_ CHAPTER XI. BOOBY-TRAPS Lady Jane Ashleigh was sitting at her early breakfast. She always breakfasted alone in a beautiful little room which her late husband had specially furnished for her. It was a room full of memories, for she had passionately loved her husband, and had never ceased to mourn his death. If she had been a more cheerful and less self-concentrated woman she might long ago have won the love of her queer and erratic little daughter. As it was, during her husband's lifetime she thought of no one but him, and since his death her best thoughts were devoted to his memory: to keep flowers always on his grave; to see that his portrait was dusted day after day, and that flowers were put under it; to kneel there and utter prayers that he and she might be reunited in a better world, absorbed her strongest thoughts. Of late, however, Irene's queer conduct had terrified her very much. Too late she discovered that she had no hold over the child, and the child was now a source of misery to her. She could not manage Irene. The servants were afraid of her. No governess would stay long. In short, she was drifting from bad to worse; and yet it was impossible for Lady Jane not to love the queer, erratic little creature. Often at night, when Irene was sound asleep, the mother would steal into the room and look at the pretty face, quite soft then, with all the wildness gone out of it. She used to look down at the long, curling black lashes, on the pale, smooth, rounded cheeks, at the wealth of dark curling hair, and wonder and wonder why the child ever and always turned from her, why she never reposed confidence in her, why she left her to live apart. If by any chance Lady Jane made a noise while she was in Irene's room and awakened that small sprite, then the scene would change. Irene would spring up in bed, dare her mother to invade her slumbers, and frighten her with immediately vanishing into the night-air and spending the rest of her time in the boat. A short time ago, Irene had insisted on locking her door, and on one occasion had managed through utter carelessness to set fire to a curtain. Her own bravery had quenched the flames before any mischief was done; but the household had been alarmed, the room forcibly burst open, and the child, whose arm was badly burned, was carried fainting from the room. After that Lady Jane removed all keys and bolts from the door, and no entreaties on Irene's part could induce her to have them put back. On this lovely summer's morning Lady Jane was eating her delicate breakfast in her usual delicate way. Her thoughts were divided between her husband, whom she would never see again in this world, and the child whom she could not manage. She was also thinking of Rosamund, the daughter of her dear friend. A servant came in with the letter-bag. Lady Jane never had any special correspondence, and she was in no hurry to open it; but having quite consumed her breakfast, she thought she might as well do so. She therefore languidly took a key from her chatelaine, inserted it into the lock, and took out the contents. She found amongst many other letters one from her old friend, Rosamund's mother. Mrs. Cunliffe wrote to say that she was glad Lady Jane liked Rosamund, and gave her hearty consent to Rosamund's spending a good deal of her time at Lady Jane's house. "I may as well tell you," continued the mother, "that Rosamund herself is somewhat difficult to manage. I have always found her so; but hitherto nothing has gone very wrong between us, because I have led her by the golden rule of love. I have never driven her in any respect. I heard a great deal of the Merrimans, the dear Professor, whose books are so well known, and the charming little school they proposed to open; and when I found that the school was in your neighborhood, my dear old friend, I decided to send Rosamund there. I am writing now to Professor and Mrs. Merriman to say that I wish Rosamund to spend as much time as ever she can spare at your house and in the company of your sweet little girl. By the way, you have told me nothing about her. She must be about twelve years old now. Rosamund, dear child, is fifteen. I can fancy what a comfort the little Irene must be to her mother, so gentle and sweet, just like what that mother was when I was a somewhat wild and erratic girl myself." "Alas and alack!" thought poor Lady Jane, "how very little my dear friend knows of the sort of creature whom Providence has bestowed upon me as a child!" Just at that moment the room door was burst open, and Miss Frost, in tears, her nose very red, her agitation extreme, followed by Irene, entered the room. "She has poisoned me! She has absolutely poisoned me!" said the unfortunate governess, sinking on the first chair she could find. "She brought me my pills as usual this morning--you know I am ordered pills for indigestion--and after I had swallowed them she announced that she had changed them for wood-lice, which curl up as you touch them." "It was such fun!" laughed Irene. "Oh, Frosty, Frosty, it was delicious!" "But what a wicked thing for you to do, Irene!" said her mother. "They will multiply inside me," said poor Miss Frost. "Oh, what is to be done? Can a doctor be summoned at once?" "I am sure there can be no danger," said poor Lady Jane; "but it was a wicked trick to play, Irene. But I believe wood-lice are harmless, and I suppose they are dead. Still, Irene, your conduct is disgraceful. You are really past bearing." "All right, mumsy!" said Irene in a most cheerful tone. "I don't mind how much you scold me, for I had such a happy time while I was watching Frosty swallowing those digestive pills! She thought me so attentive, because as a rule I don't take any interest in her pills. I found a lot of the dear little wood-lice in the garden this morning, and it suddenly darted through my mind that they could be swallowed just like pills. So I put them into a box and rattled them well, and brought them to Frosty, and opened the box and said to her, 'Here, Frosty, here are your digestive pills;' and she had swallowed two before she found out what she had done. The rest began to uncurl in the box, and she discovered what had happened. Oh, it was lovely to see her face!--You do feel bad, don't you? You'd like to go at once, wouldn't you, darling? I am so awfully anxious for you to go!" "But if--if," said poor Miss Frost--"if you really think that the pills--I really can't call them by the other name--will do no harm, it seems almost a"---- "I tell you what I will do," said Lady Jane. "I will send you straight into Dartford to see Dr. Marshall. He will tell you what is best to be done. But I feel sure you are quite safe.--Irene, you are so naughty that I cannot speak to you." Miss Frost, who did not dare to give up her lucrative situation, left the room. Lady Jane went to the bell and rang it. A servant was desired to have the carriage ordered immediately, and the unhappy and perplexed governess was soon out of the house on her way to Dartford to see Dr. Marshall or one of his assistants. Meanwhile Irene, in the red dress she had worn all night, very much crumpled, very much disheveled and soiled, sat down and fixed her bright eyes on her parent. "So she is not to go!" "Was that why you did it, Irene?" "Of course," said Irene in a laconic voice, "I'll have to think of something else. She is an extraordinary woman is Frosty. I got rid of Carter. You know how I got rid of her." "You mustn't speak of it--it is too painful." "Well, I'll have to get rid of Frosty." "Now listen to me, Irene. Your governess is not to go." "Mumsy dear, why that tone? You know you are a little bit afraid of your Irene, aren't you?" Irene danced up to her parent and looked at her with eyes bright as stars. Suddenly she flung herself on her knees by her mother's side. "You didn't by any chance come to see me in my little bed last night?" she asked. "You didn't come perhaps in the early morning? You didn't quote those well-known lines: Mumsy dear, did you?" "No, Irene; I was occupied with other things--with sad, very sad memories. This is the anniversary of your dear, your precious father's death." Irene had the grace to be silent for a moment. After a pause she said, "I did remember that yesterday morning; and knowing that you'd be frightfully dumpy--oh, mummy! you know you never are cheerful--I thought I'd have a spree on my own account. So I tell you what I did, mothery." Lady Jane looked with absolute fear into Irene's face. After a time her eyes slowly welled up with tears. "I can't imagine what I have done," she said. "I often wonder beyond words why I am given such a very naughty child--a child who understands me so very little, who cannot sympathize with my sorrows and cannot understand my griefs, and who contrives to make others miserable. It is your cruelty that is so terrible, Irene." "My cruelty!" said Irene, opening her bright eyes wide. Something seemed to hurt her. It was the first time Lady Jane had ever seen a spark of real feeling in this extraordinary child. "Well, now, listen," she said. "I spent the night with Rosamund--dear Rosamund Cunliffe." "You ran away from home and spent the night at the Merrimans'?" "Oh, you needn't be afraid. I didn't even occupy one of their rooms long, and certainly didn't break bread with them. I wouldn't break bread in the house with that Lucy for all you could give me. Nevertheless, I spent the night with Rosamund. Oh, she is a splendid creature! She is jolly enough, and she is brave enough. Why, she let me strike her on the cheek as hard as ever I could, and didn't utter a word. I wanted her to lock the door, and she had some queer notions about it that I couldn't fathom; and when I struck her on her cheek, she only just offered me the other, and said, 'You may do what you like, but I will not lock the door.' "Now, mother, if you'd stand up to me like that I'd just respect you. Anyhow, I respect Rosamund, and I dare say I'd have had to spend the night in her room, or perhaps even have had to come home, but something most welcome happened. Thank goodness, Rosamund isn't a prig! She's awfully passionate, and has plenty of strong feelings. She's not a bit a goody-goody; I'd just hate her like anything if she were. But that Lucy--you know that prim thing, the daughter of the Professor and Mrs. Merriman? Well, she came into the room, and I was under the bed in a twinkling. She argued with Rosamund and found fault with her, and got dear old Rose into a towering passion. Well, after that I could do what I liked with her. She did lock the door, although she vowed she wouldn't at first; and we got out through the window, and spent the night in the summer-house in the plantation. I put my head on her lap, and she put her arms round me and tried to keep me warm; and then I went off to sleep so happily, for somehow or other--I didn't think I could ever love anybody, but somehow or other there is a sort of feeling in me that perhaps is love for her. I think I could even be good for her. "In the morning she walked with me as far as The Follies, and I have been for the last few hours very busy. There'll be a good deal of excitement amongst the servants to-day. I did hope that the wood-lice would settle Frosty; but now you have interfered. Why can't you let her go? She's no manner of use to me. Can't you give her whatever salary she has now, and send her back to London, or wherever she lives?" "And let you grow up wild, Irene, with no one to teach you--for you will not learn from me?" "Well, mother, I shall never learn anything from Frosty. Oh, what a morning it is! Is that the footman I hear outside? I expect he has discovered." Just then James, who had been in the family for the last five or six years, came staggering into the room. He had been caught by a booby-trap which Irene had placed just over his pantry door, and a shower of spiders and caterpillars and other offensive insects had fallen all over him. His face was deadly pale, and he declared that he had been severely stung. "There were wasps there," he said, "and I have been stung in the cheek and on the hand; and, madam, I don't really know what to do." "It was a booby-trap. You look beautiful, James!" said Irene. James flashed her an angry glance. Poor Lady Jane started to the rescue. What was she to do with this intolerable child? "There are a lot more traps laid for the other servants," said Irene under her breath. "I didn't want poor old James to be stung by the wasps. They stung me when I was catching them, but I didn't cry out. I never cry out when I have pain. I wonder which insect stings worst? I ought to have a few handy for the worst of the servants. The only one I don't want to part with is cook, for cook is so much afraid of me that she will give me any unwholesome food I like to ask her for. When dear Rose comes we will have a feast. Oh, won't we have fun! I wonder--I do wonder--when she will come?" Lady Jane left the room, and returned with a blue-bag, which she applied to James's swollen hand and cheek. The frightened servant said he did not think he could keep his situation much longer; but Lady Jane begged of him to be patient. Irene had disappeared. "It is the kind of shock, your ladyship," he said to his mistress. "It's that I can't bear. There was I a-walking in as innocent as you please into my pantry, carrying the hot dishes from your ladyship's breakfast. I just touched a string, and found a shower of the most venomous insects crawling all over me. I dropped the dish on the spot, and if it hadn't been a silver one it would have been in shivers. And how was she to know that it wouldn't be your ladyship's best Sevres or Crown Derby? How am I to endure it, my lady?" "She is a very naughty girl, and I will certainly punish her," said Lady Jane, with a sigh. "But now, James, go about your business. The remedies I have used will soon take the pain out of your stings, and you will be all right again." "There's poor Miss Frost," continued the man; "she has swallowed living beasts. It's all over the house, the story of Miss Irene giving her them horrors instead of her pills. It's the most dreadful thing I ever heard tell of." "I don't believe she is really seriously hurt at all. But I will see what can be done," said Lady Jane. She sat for a time lost in thought. Irene must be sent away--school must be resorted to. She must not any longer be allowed to render The Follies a home of terror to every individual who lived there. But what school would take such a naughty girl? For an instant Lady Jane thought of the Merrimans. But no, that was worse than useless. Was there any school in any part of the world that would receive such a hopeless character as poor Irene seemed to be turning into? Lady Jane could not tell. _ |
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