Rainbow Cottage (25 page)

She let her anger boil in thoughts like these, seething round till it resembled the far fury of the sea she was watching. And then her quick ear caught voices in the hall, a sound as of someone taking farewell. Was it the doctor?

She opened the door a crack.

Angus stood at the head of the stairs, wrapped well in his blanket.

“No, Malcolm,” he was saying, “don’t bother to go after the car. I’ll just run along this way. There’ll be nobody to frighten with the sight of me but the fishes, and I doubt if they are out this afternoon. Yes, I’m perfectly fit for a run up the beach. Nonsense!”

Jacqueline preened herself and assumed her sweetest smile. She came upon the scene at once.

“Why, I’m taking you at once in my car, of course,” she said, smiling into his eyes. “You wouldn’t deprive me of driving the hero of the occasion back to his home, would you?”

She saw with quick anger that Angus had stiffened as she approached, and now he answered her with cold formality.

“That’s awfully kind, Miss Lammorelle, but it isn’t in the least necessary for you to take your car out in the rain again. It sounds to me as if it were raining harder than ever. I’ll just run up the beach with my cousin.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble whatever,” caroled Jacqueline, ignoring the cool tone. “I’m going out anyway. I just love this wild weather. And I have an errand at the station. Malcolm can go with us.”

Suddenly Betty appeared in the doorway with lynx eyes on Jacqueline. “We’re all going,” she said. “I’m not needed here, so I’ll go back with you, Malcolm.”

“Oh, there’s room for you all, of course,” said Jacqueline sweetly. “Angus and I’ll sit in front and you and your husband can sit in back.”

With what dignity he could summon in his present attire, Angus reluctantly consented to ride, but Jacqueline had scant satisfaction from his company. He let her do the talking, responding in monosyllables.

Jacqueline studied him furtively and wondered what he was thinking about. Then she started along another line. “Do you know, I’m just thrilled to death to know you, Angus Galbraith! I think you’re simply the greatest hero I ever knew. I think what you did this afternoon was wonderful, simply
wonderful
!”

“You’re mistaken,” said Angus with annoyance in his tone. “There was nothing wonderful about it. I’ve been out in worse storms simply for amusement.”

“And to think you did all that for one who was practically a
stranger
!” caroled on Jacqueline, ignoring his protest.

“You’re mistaken,” said Angus, growing more annoyed every minute. “Your cousin and I are very good friends indeed!”

“Oh,
really
,” said Jacqueline with a lifting of her slender brows. “How lovely for poor little Sheila! Really, it’s too sweet of you to be so nice to her. Just now especially, when you know she has practically no friends at all, and when she’s so frightfully distressed about her poor renegade father.”

“I was not aware of her friendlessness,” said Galbraith in a cold tone, “but that, of course, had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh no, of course, not with a man like you.” Jacqueline gave him a sweet glance intended to be impressive, quite aware that Betty was watching her, though she knew her voice could not be heard on the backseat in all the wind.

“But you know,” went on Jacqueline when Galbraith made no comment whatever, “just now is when she’s so worried and so sort of alone; it certainly must be a great comfort to her.”

“Why just now?” asked Galbraith almost haughtily. “Has she been passing through some sorrow?”

“Well, I don’t know that you’d exactly call it sorrow. Of course her mother has just died, I understand. But that can’t have ever been such a loss from all I’ve been told. Of course, you know we Ainslees have never really had anything to do with her. She’s simply here because Aunt Myra felt sorry for her, I suppose. I don’t imagine she’ll stay long.”

“And why shouldn’t the loss of her mother be a sorrow?” Galbraith’s voice was stern.

“Well, you know, she wasn’t just of our class. I never did know just what she was, but something like a barmaid, I think. It’s really commendable, of course, what Sheila has made of herself in spite of such handicaps. It’s so unfortunate when people of good blood get mixed up with the lower classes, don’t you think? But, you know, her father was always doing wild things. I can remember when I was just a little girl hearing of his terrible escapades. And now it’s so unfortunate, Sheila not knowing just where he is. At least, I gathered that from some things she said to Aunt Myra.”

“Do you think that Miss Ainslee would like to have us discussing her private affairs?” said Galbraith.

“Oh, she’ll never know. I just thought I ought to warn you not to say anything about her father. You might ask after him or something, and that might make her feel badly. I don’t exactly know what he’s been doing. Perhaps he’s in hiding. Or he might even be serving time in prison. I’m not sure that Sheila even suspects that, of course, but I know from the few words I overheard that there is some tragedy. I know they always told me Aunt Myra felt perfectly terrible about him. It’s dreadful, don’t you think, when a man born into a good family simply drags them down like that? I’m not sure but it was embezzlement. The family didn’t talk much about it, you know.”

“I see,” said Galbraith. “Well, perhaps it would be better if we didn’t talk about it either. Now, Miss Lammorelle, if you’ll just let me out here, I’d like to run down the beach there and see if I can locate some of my wardrobe that I cast off, before the tide carries it to China.”

Jacqueline stopped her car sharply. She was not thin skinned, but there was that in the young man’s tone that made her feel as if she had been slapped in the face again.

She watched him get out of the car and was about to start on again, vexed with herself and him and already planning how she could get Malcolm into the front seat with herself, when Malcolm called out, “Wait a minute, Jac; I’ll go down with him and help. I remember where some of his things are, I think. Just you go on up with Betty, and don’t wait for us. We’ll climb up the crags when we find his things.” He swung open the back door and sprang out, casting his blanket from him and running down the dunes toward the beach.

Jacqueline put her foot on the gas and sent her car shooting forward on the upper road and scarcely spoke a word to her single remaining passenger on the way.

When Betty got out, she asked her to come in, but Jacqueline declined brusquely. “I’ve got to get my errand done and get back,” she explained coldly. “I might be needed, you know.”

“Yes,” said Betty, almost sympathetically for once, “that was a close call, wasn’t it? But you think she’s all right now, don’t you? She’s such a darling girl!”

“I’m sure I don’t know.” Jacqueline shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “What did she crawl out on that rock for, anyway? That’s what I’d like to know. She knew a storm was coming up. If you ask me, I think it was merely a stage setting for a fine gesture, and she just didn’t calculate the power of the tide and the storm.”

“Oh, Jacqueline! What a terrible thing to say!” exclaimed Betty. “I’m sure she’s not that kind of a girl at all!”

“Well, who can say?” Jacqueline shrugged. “I’m sure I hope not. One doesn’t want one’s family to do questionable things, of course, no matter how much reason they have for it. But I must be hurrying back. I don’t want dear Aunt Myra to be left there alone. Good-bye. So kind of you to come down. I’m sure I hope you won’t take cold from being wet. And just forget what I said, of course. It’s all between you and me.”

Having planted another seed of suspicion in the Galbraith family, Jacqueline sped on her way, noting angrily the two manly figures already climbing the cliff. They had wasted little time in searching for the lost garments.

J
acqueline’s car had no sooner started from the cottage to take the Galbraiths home than Janet came softly, breathlessly, up the stairs and waited on tiptoe at Sheila’s door, peeping softly in.

“M’s Ainslee, could I speak ta ya a minit?” she asked in a whisper.

Sheila opened her eyes and smiled.

“Come in, Janet,” she said in a weak little voice. “I’m all right now. I’m sorry I made so much trouble for you.”

“Oh, Miss Sheila!” said Janet ecstatically. “I didn’t know you was awake. Oh, it wasn’t no trouble at all. I just loved to fix your bed for ya.”

“It was lovely and warm, Janet. Thank you. You were wonderful.”

Janet grew crimson with pleasure.

“What was it you wanted, Janet?” asked Grandmother from her rocking chair, looking tired but happy and just a bit trembly around her lips.

“It was just something I thought I’d tell ya, M’s Ainslee,” said Janet, hesitating. “Somepin’ I thought perhaps ya oughtta know before Miss Jacqueline comes back. I thought mebbe ya’d come out in the hall a minit so we wouldn’t bother Miss Sheila.”

“Yes?” said Grandmother, putting her hands on the arms of the rocker to try and rise.

“Don’t mind me, Janet,” said Sheila earnestly. “Just tell Grandmother here. She’s tired. She ought to sit still.”

“Oh—” said Janet in dismay. “Well, then mebbe it can wait a spell.”

“No, Janet, just tell whatever it is. Miss Sheila is really feeling much better. Has anybody been here or anything gone wrong?”

“Oh no, M’s Ainslee, it’s just about the laundry. Them sheets that Miss Jacqueline said she put in the wash, you know?”

“Yes?” said Grandmother, on the alert at once.

“Well, it’s only that she didn’t done it.”

“What?”

“She didn’t put ’em in. When I looked over the laundry they wan’t there. I looked all over, but I couldn’t find ’em.”

“That’s strange,” said Grandmother, puckering her brows together. “I’ll have to ask her again what she did with them. She surely didn’t burn them up, did she? My best linen sheets?”

“No, ma’am, she didn’t. I was watching her all the time. I knowed she couldn’t have did that. But I knowed they must be somewhere, so when you all went down to the beach, after I got the water hot and the bed fixed and the coffee going, I went an’ I found ’em.”

“You found them? Where?”

“In her closet away back stuffed in the corner of the shelf!”

“How strange!” said Grandmother. “What could have possessed her?”

“Yes,” said Janet and turned as if she would go away. Then pausing at the door added, “There was some other things there, too.”

“What other things?”

“Oh, some other things. They fell down, leastways, some of them fell down, and then I went and got your flashlight and I found some more. I got ’em all out, I’m sure. They didn’t look like they belonged to her, and some of ’em was what Miss Sheila had said she missed, so I wrapped ’em all up in the pillarcase an’ snuck ’em inta the bottom drawer of Miss Sheila’s bureau, an’ here’s the key. I wanted you ta know ’afore she come back.”

“Oh!” said Sheila, suddenly sitting up in bed, her eyes bright and the color coming into her pale cheeks. “What were they, Janet?”

“Oh, just a box, an’ some old letters tied up, an’ a little ole penholder, an’ a ring. There was a ring in a little box, an’ it fell out on the floor, that’s how I knowed the rest was there. The penholder fell out, too, and rolled under the bed. But I got ’em all out. They’re down there in that drawer in the pillarcase now, and I wanted you should know it, fer fear she’d come back an’ find out an’ make some kinda fuss about it.”

“Oh, let me see them!” said Sheila eagerly.

“I’m afraid I hadn’t oughtta told ya now so soon, Miss Sheila,” said Janet anxiously.

“Oh, yes, it’ll do her good!” said Grandmother cheerily, getting up with alacrity and going over to the bureau. “Get them out, Janet, and put the whole thing on the bed, and we’ll look them over. Then you can run down and start supper, and when you get things going, bring up a cup of that broth we had for lunch that nobody ate because we were so worried about this child—at least, I mean, nobody but Jacqueline!”

Janet, with fervent relief in her face, pulled out the bureau drawer where she had stowed the bulging pillowcase and brought it carefully to the bedside, spreading it out before Sheila.

“Oh, Grandmother! There it is!” she said eagerly, reaching for the old penholder. “And there is Mother’s wedding ring!” She slipped it on her finger. “And there is Mother’s dear little concert dress!” She lifted a frail fragment of white tarlatan covered with silver spangles.

“My dear! Do you mean that is the case that contains the valuable paper?”

“Oh yes, at least Mother said it did. I never opened it. I was somehow afraid.”

Janet stole down to the kitchen, joy in her heart, a light shining in her faithful eyes. Her heart beat high with happiness. She had found Miss Sheila’s things, and she had foiled that snake of a Jacqueline. She set about preparing the evening meal, triumph in her eyes. Maybe Miss Jacqueline would never know what became of the things she had purloined. Maybe she had only put them away for meanness and would never even think of them again. But Janet knew they were back with their owner again who loved them, and she, Janet, had been smart enough to find them and restore them. She walked as on winged feet and almost felt a crown upon her head she was so happy to have served in this way.

Meantime, upstairs, Grandmother suddenly became aware of the bright, excited eyes of the girl who had been through so much today.

“Child, you must lie right down! I ought not to have let Janet tell me about this in front of you. You shouldn’t have had this excitement tonight. It could have waited until tomorrow.”

“No, Grandmother, please don’t take them away,” said Sheila earnestly. “I’ll lie down. I truly will. And I’m so glad to have my dear things back again! You can’t think how glad I am. Just leave them a few minutes till I count them over and be sure they are all here.”

“Well, just a minute then. Now, let me fold this dress smoothly and put it away in the drawer. And these letters. Are they yours or your mother’s?”

“Oh, they are Mother’s. From her sister in Ireland, I think, most of them. A few from Father. There is a picture in one of them of the castle in Ireland where my mother used to live when she was a little girl. I’ll show it to you.”