Home > Authors Index > L. T. Meade > Bunch of Cherries: A Story of Cherry Court School > This page
A Bunch of Cherries: A Story of Cherry Court School, a fiction by L. T. Meade |
||
Chapter 19. Tit For Tat |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XIX. TIT FOR TAT The long, bewildering, beautiful day was over and the three candidates for the coming competition were being dressed for the occasion. The dressing took place in one immense room where the girls were afterwards to sleep, and the assistants at the dressing were no less people than Miss Helen Dartmoor, Mrs. Aylmer the great, and Mrs. Aylmer the less. Mrs. Aylmer the great and Mrs. Aylmer the less fussed round Florence, fussed round her to such an extraordinary degree that she felt a mad desire to thrust them both out of the room. The very beautiful dress which Aunt Susan had purchased for Florence in London was, after all, not to be used on this occasion, for Sir John had given forth his mandate that each of the three candidates was to be dressed exactly alike, and as this was his supreme wish he further said that he himself would purchase the dresses for the occasion. These were made in Greek style, and were long, flowing, and simple. The material was the finest white cashmere edged with swansdown, and each girl had clasped round her waist a belt of massive silver, also Sir John's present. Their hair was unbound and hung down their backs, being kept in its place on the head by a narrow fillet of silver. Nothing could be simpler and yet more graceful than the dress, the long flowing sleeves falling away from the elbow and showing the young molded arms distinctly. It so happened that no dress could suit Kitty better, and doubtless Sir John had an eye to the appearance of his favorite in such a robe when he ordered it. Florence also looked very well in her Greek costume; and even Mary Bateman seemed to acquire added grace and dignity when she put on the pretty classical robe. The girls wore sandals on their feet, and altogether nothing could be choicer and prettier than the dresses which Sir John had devised for them. Little Mrs. Aylmer almost hopped round Florence as she was being attired in her festive robe. "I am sure," she said, "I can guess the reason why; I have been wondering over it all day, and at last the solution has come to me. Listen, my dear Miss Bateman; listen, Miss Sharston; Susan, you cannot prevent my speaking. I see, Miss Dartmoor, you are thinking me a little fool, but I have guessed at the solution. It is because in the moment of triumph the brow of the young victor--victress, don't you say? no, of course, victor--will be crowned with a laurel wreath. Ah, how sweet! Florence dear, nothing could be more becoming to you." Miss Dartmoor was heard to give an indignant snort. She went up to Kitty and looked at her with marked attention. "I hate the heathenish sort of dress," she exclaimed, "but if it comes to that, I believe that Catherine Sharston will look just as well with a chaplet of leaves round her head as anyone else in the room." "Oh, we are not disputing that point," said Mrs. Aylmer the less, chirruping away as she spoke, and dancing up to a neighboring looking-glass to take a side view of her own dress; "we are not disputing that point. The one who wins the Scholarship will look beautiful in her wreath of glory. Time will prove who that lucky person will be." Here she winked at Florence, who turned away. Her head ached; there was a heavy, heavy feeling at her heart. She had one great desire, which for the time being swallowed up all others, and that was to see Bertha Keys for a moment alone. Bertha was to arrive with the rest of the school in time for the great ceremony, which was to take place in the great central hall of the old house. The hall had been decorated for the occasion, and in its dark recesses gleamed now many fairy lamps. In the middle of the hall was a dais, on which the judges were to sit, and before whom the young competitors were to appear when the crucial moment came. A flood of light from many incandescent burners poured down upon this dais, making it one of dazzling light. The rest of the girls of the school were to sit in a darker part of the hall; they were to be dressed in their best. The guests were to occupy a gallery to the left, except those guests who, by Sir John's special invitation, were to sit upon the dais and give their votes in favor of the essays. Desks were provided also in the middle of the hall for the three young competitors, at which they were to sit to answer the questions which were to be asked them by three professors specially sent for from London by Sir John. There was not to be the slightest indication of who the successful winner was to be until the crucial moment, and the examination from first to last was expected to occupy about an hour and a half. While it was going on very soft music was to be played on a distant organ; the competitors were then to go forward and to stand in front of the judges while the three essays were read aloud by no less a person than Sir John himself. The judges would retire, something like a jury at a court of justice, on hearing the essays, to give their votes for the lucky winner of the Scholarship, and then Sir John was to crown the successful girl with glory. A chaplet of silver bay-leaves was to encircle her brow, and the locket and chain were to be put round her neck. She was to receive the purse which would contain the expenses for one year at Cherry Court School, and the parchment scroll, which through all time would testify to her ability and her triumph, was to be put into her hand. "Yes, nothing could be more perfect than the arrangements," said Miss Dartmoor, who had heard all about the programme during the course of the day; "but," she added, fixing her eyes now upon the elder Mrs. Aylmer's face, "I disapprove of this sort of thing immensely. I don't suppose for a single moment my cousin, Catherine Sharston, will get the Scholarship; but seeds of envy and discontent will be sown in her heart, and I shall have some trouble in bringing her into a proper frame of mind when she joins me in Scotland." "I pity you," said Mrs. Aylmer, in reply to this speech, "but the girl looks well-meaning and easily influenced." "Oh, am I?" thought Kitty, who overheard these words and who could not help giving her little head a toss; "I doubt it. Oh, if it were not for father I don't think I could go through with this evening." Meanwhile Florence had slipped out of the room. In her pretty Greek dress she glided down the corridor, met a servant, and asked her if the young ladies from school had yet come. "Yes, miss," was the reply, "and they are all unrobing in the green bedroom at the end of this corridor." "I should be so much obliged if you would do something for me," said Florence. "Of course I will, miss," was the reply. The girl gave Florence a long, admiring look. She could not help being struck with the elegant dress and the eager, passionate, quivering face. "What is it you want, miss?--I'll do anything you wish." "I want you to go into the green bedroom and ask if Miss Keys is there. If she is, say that I, Florence Aylmer, would like to see her for a few moments." The servant tripped off at once, and a moment later Bertha joined Florence in the corridor. "Is there anywhere where we can be alone?" said Florence, clasping Bertha's hand. "Oh, my dear Flo, how lovely you look! What a charming, charming robe!" "Don't talk about my dress now, and don't say anything about my looks; I want to speak to you," said Florence. For a wild moment Bertha Keys felt inclined to say, "It is impossible; I am engaged with my pupils, and cannot give you any of my time," but a glance into Florence's face showed her, as she vulgarly expressed it, "the fat was in the fire," and she had better face the position at once. Accordingly she said coolly, "I can give you two or three minutes, although I cannot imagine what you want to say now. I shall come to see you when it is all over. There is not the slightest doubt that you will win the Scholarship, so rest assured on that head." "If I thought for a moment there was a doubt do you think I would have acted as I did?" said Florence; "but now that things have come to a crisis I wonder if I greatly care. I----" "Oh, nonsense, Florence, how would you stand the disgrace? and the clergy school, you know--don't forget, Florence, what it means. Hold up your head, pluck up your courage. What is it you want to say to me?" "Something--but I must see you alone." "Let us come along this corridor; there are a great many bedrooms: we will open one on the chance of its being empty." Bertha seized Florence's hand and began to fly down the corridor with her. She knocked at a door, there was no reply, she opened it. "There, it is unoccupied," she said; "we will stay here for a minute or two. Come now, what is it?" "It is this," said Florence; she turned and faced Bertha. "Bertha Keys," she said, "my mother has told me, and I heard that of you this morning which----" "That of me, indeed," said Bertha, turning very pale; "what can you have heard of me?" "I have heard that which shows me your true character. My mother never received those post-office orders. I gave you three sovereigns to change into postoffice orders for my mother, and she--she never had them; she never got any of my letters, she thought me cold, heartless, unfeeling--she, my mother, the one I love best in the world. You, you held back the letters, you kept the money--dare you deny it?" "Oh, dear, what a fuss!" said Bertha. "But you can act just as you please, Florence; you can go down and tell all about me. Of course, having done so, my career will be ruined." "What do you mean? What did you do?--speak, speak! Oh, this is driving me mad!" "Calm yourself, my dear, and stay quiet; I won't attempt to conceal the truth from you. I took the money; I wanted it very badly. Whether I wanted it more badly than your mother is a matter of not the smallest importance to me. I wanted it, and I took it. Let that suffice." "And what do you think I shall do; do you think I will submit to this sort of thing?" "You can please yourself. Of course, if you tell about me, I can tell about you. Tit for tat--you quite understand." "Oh, I quite understand," said Florence. She sank down on the nearest chair, her face had turned quite grey. Miss Keys regarded her for a moment silently, then she went up and laid her hand on her shoulder. "Come, Flo," she said, suddenly dropping on her knees by the unhappy girl's side, "come, cheer up; don't look so miserable. You and I are in the same boat and we must sink or swim together. If you support me I'll support you. I can help you again and again, and think what I am doing for you to-night." "Oh, I hate myself, I hate myself! I don't think I can go through with it," said Florence. "Then what do you mean to do?" "Tell Sir John all before he begins. It is Kitty's Scholarship--not mine; and how--how am I to take it?" "Now this is utter folly," said Bertha, seriously alarmed at last, for if Florence were to develop a conscience, and a conscience of such a sensitive order, at this hour, all would indeed be lost as far as she was concerned. "Come," she said, "think what it means. You love your mother; think of her position if you lose; and it was only three pounds, and I promise--there, I promise I'll save it out of my salary; you shall have it back. Oh, don't tell on me; I shall be ruined for ever; don't--don't--don't!" Bertha clasped her hands, the tears rose to her eyes--a bell was heard in the distance. It was the bell which was to summon the guests, the girls of the school, and the three competitors to the great hall. "There, I must be going," said Florence, "but I am miserable. My head aches, I doubt if I can go through with this." "You will feel quite different when you get downstairs," said Bertha, "and now cheer up; only just remember one thing. If you fail me I will fail you, and vice versa." Florence did not dare to look back at Bertha; she left the room. There was a noise in her ears and a swimming before her eyes. Bertha stood for a moment, looking after her retreating form. "I am almost sorry I did not tell her at the time," she said to herself; "when she has accepted the Scholarship I shall be safe; but she has had a shock. There is no saying what a girl of that temperament may do under pressure; but there, I believe the excitement will carry her through, and I don't believe for a moment she has the moral courage to stand the public disgrace which would be hers if she told now. Yes, she is in for it; she must go through with it." Bertha patted her red hair and drew herself up to her full height, and presently accompanied the pupils down to the great hall, where they took their seats in the places allotted to them; excellent seats from the point of view, for they could see every single thing and were themselves to a certain extent in shadow. The different guests had assembled, all beautifully dressed. Mrs. Aylmer the great and Mrs. Aylmer the less found themselves side by side. Mrs. Aylmer the great was in a magnificent robe of violet brocade, open at the throat, displaying a quantity of rich lace. On her head glittered diamonds, and her light eyes flashed as she glanced from time to time at Mrs. Aylmer the less. "Really," she said to herself, "the one drawback in adopting Florence is that most unpleasant little woman. Where did she get that splendid silk from? But what airs she does put on; how vulgar she is!" Mrs. Aylmer the great did not look particularly happy. She was most anxious to force herself into what she termed county society, and she found up to the present that, although she was the owner of a magnificent place like Aylmer Court, she was not taken much notice of by those people who were, as she expressed it, really in the swim. It was a great feather in her cap to be invited to Cherry Court Park, and if Sir John would only favor her with a little attention she might get more invitations in consequence. If her niece was the lucky winner of the Scholarship all would undoubtedly go well with Mrs. Aylmer. She would be the aunt, practically the adopted mother, of the heroine, the girl on whom all eyes were fixed, Sir John's special protegee, the Cherry Court School Scholarship girl. She could talk about Florence and her great abilities from time to time, and gently insinuate little hints with regard to the girl's unfortunate position and her great kindness in adopting her. Thus people would think her a most good-natured woman as well as a very rich one, the aunt of a girl of undoubted genius--yes, a great deal might follow in the train of such consequences. Mrs. Aylmer the less on this occasion had many wild and exciting thoughts with regard to Miss Pratt and the other neighbors at Dawlish, also with regard to Sukey; but still, her thought above all other thoughts was the consciousness that soon her beloved child would be done honor to, and her eyes, silly enough in expression, were now so full of love that many people thought her a good-natured and pleasant-looking woman, and in reality gave her far kinder thoughts than they did to Mrs. Aylmer the great, whose cold face would never shine with any human feeling, and whose motives could be easily read by the proud county folk. As Florence slowly entered the room, accompanied by Kitty and Mary, a little buzz of applause greeted the three graceful girls as, in their Greek costumes, they glided slowly forward and took their places at the little desks placed for them. Florence for one wild moment glanced at her mother, and the love and longing and delight in the little Mummy's face did more to reconcile her present evil plight than anything else. "There," she whispered under her breath, "in for a penny, in for a pound. I cannot break the heart of the little Mummy--I can't--I won't." A peculiar expression stole round her lips, her eyes grew feverishly bright, she looked handsome, and Mrs. Aylmer the great felt justly very proud of her. "She is tall, her figure is improving every day; she will be a very good-looking girl by and by--what is more, a stylish one," thought Aunt Susan. But most of the guests scarcely looked at Florence, for their eyes were attracted by the sweet expression, the inimitable grace of Kitty Sharston. Florence's cheeks were deeply flushed, her eyes so bright that they looked dark as night; but Kitty, equally excited, her heart beating, every nerve highly strung, only showed her excitement by a dewy look in the great big grey eyes, and a wild-rose bloom on the delicate cheeks. Mary's downright appearance did not attract comment one way or the other. All three were pronounced nice-looking, ladylike girls, and now the guests bent forward to listen to the viva voce examination, which immediately began. _ |
||