The Flower Brides (39 page)

Wednesday morning dawned with a cruelly bright sun. It hurt Diana as she opened her eyes and took in the glory of the morning.

The first thought that met her waking soul was that her father was married. He had taken someone in Mother’s place! It hit her in the heart and between the eyes, as a blow might have done. But she winked back the tears that rushed ready for a deluge and shut her lips tightly. She just must not give way today at all or she could not go through the ordeal tonight.

She turned her eyes resolutely toward the carnations and drew a deep breath. Then the wonder came, would there be another flower this morning? How early were they put there? She would run out now, right away, and see. Perhaps she could catch the fairy at her work. She just must think of pleasant things until tonight was over or she would die. She felt as if she were bleeding in her heart. Controlled tears turned inward and drained the life, but she must not weep today.

She sprang from her bed and, dressing quickly, slipped out of the house before Maggie knew she was awake.

The dew was on the turf by the little path that skirted the edge of the driveway, and it caught the morning light and hung bright jewels on each blade of grass.

Diana could not help but feel the beauty of the day as she hurried down the road, despite her heavy heart. It was as if she were going into the secret places of the morning, to the treasury of the world’s jewels, where a diamond or an amethyst or a ruby flashed out a greeting to her as she passed and sapphires nodded blue sparkles to the fire of opals.

Just this side of the group of trees that hid the cottage from view she thought she heard a stirring, and she walked softly, shyly, hesitating an instant. Was she coming upon the secret of her mysterious flowers, and did she want to be disillusioned? Did she want to discover how they came there, if perchance the donor was passing now?

On the other hand, perhaps the flowers were meant for someone else who was missing them because she had come in before and taken them. If she went on now, would there be a clue that would destroy this bit of romance, the only hint of real romance that had so far come into her life?

Only an instant she hesitated, then her common sense asserted itself and she went forward. If there were so sensible an explanation of all this, she had better know it now and get this nonsense out of her head. With all this trouble she was probably making too much of just a few plain carnations.

So she went on, rounding the group of shrubs that hid the place where she usually found the flowers. Then she heard the sound of a door closing at the back of the cottage. Was that a step? Probably just someone in the cottage shed that opened this way.

She paused, and her eyes sought the grass by the gravel path. Yes, there it lay, close by the walk, its face looking up from the grass. It was in the shadow, but there was a flash of jewels all about the dew. And—were those footprints in the dewy grass? They trailed away to a bare place around the roots of a tree then disappeared in a series of disconnected spots irregularly leading toward the cottage. Was it conceivable that the flowers came from the cottage? But of course not. There was only an old lady living there with her boy, Maggie had said. No young boy would go dropping flowers around for sentiment’s sake, and certainly his mother wouldn’t be likely to do it. Besides, those footprints were probably made by a dog not a human, and, anyway, they weren’t near enough to the flower to count, unless someone stood at a distance and threw the flower there.

She stood for a moment measuring the distance with her eye, calculating how it could be done. Then she stopped, picked up the flower, and sped back to the house.

All day as she was working, doing last things, filled with anguish as she was, there still was an undertone of exultation that the flower had been there again. It seemed to be the one bright thread in the dark fabric of her life. She did not want to think about it too carefully lest sane reasoning might take it away from her. She wanted to hold on to this one little cheerful thing while she was going through these blackest hours that had ever yet come her way.

They set the dinner table as soon as Diana had swallowed the few mouthfuls that made up her brief lunch. Maggie wisely saw that the best thing she could do for her young mistress was to keep her busy, and this matter of the evening meal would be the hardest of the day. It was best to get it over with since it was inevitable, so she asked in an innocent tone, “Will you be wantin’ the best china tonight?” And Diana turned a startled look on her.

“Oh, not Grandmother’s china!” she exclaimed in a pained voice. “Helen made fun of it once, said it looked as if it came out of the ark. Besides, Mother always said that was to be mine. Grandmother’s wedding china, and not a piece broken!”

“You’ll want to be packin’ it up then,” warned Maggie, with a grim look on her face.

“I ought to get a professional packer for that,” said the girl, with a troubled look at the clock. “I wonder if there would be time to get it done today. It will be no use to do it after she comes. She’ll manage to break it or sell it or something if she knows I love it.”

“No need for a packer,” said Maggie briskly. “Many’s the set of china I’ve packed in my day and never a wee bit chipped. You bring me all the old newspapers from up the stairs, an’ I’ll have it out of the way in the whisk of a lamb’s tail. There’s a nice clean barrel or two down in the cellar that will be just right, and when it’s away, I’ll nail the head up and whisk it off in a dark corner an’ she’ll never know it’s there.”

“Oh, Maggie, you’re such a comfort!” said Diana, struggling with her feelings. “But—I’m wondering—you don’t suppose Father will notice that we haven’t it on the table, do you? We always used it on very special occasions, you know. He might think I was insulting her by using the everyday dishes.”

“He said for you to put away your mother’s things that might mind his new wife of her, didn’t he? Well, then he can’t blame you. But anyway, he’ll not notice. He’ll have enough on his mind without takin’ on the dishes also. Come, away with you and bring the newspapers. We’d best get the dishes out of the way first.”

So Diana got the newspapers and then came back to help Maggie take the dishes down from their top shelf and carry them all down to the cellar. Maggie wiped off the cupboard shelves, put fresh papers on them, and arranged other dishes of which there were many not in daily use so that the grandmother’s set was not missed. Then they went down to the cellar and Diana wrapped cups and plates under Maggie’s direction, and in an incredibly short space of time the barrel was filled and rolled off into a dark corner and they came up to set the table.

“You’ll not be wantin’ flowers for a centerpiece?” asked Maggie.

“No!” said Diana in a bleak voice. “No flowers!”

“You could take out a few roses from the livin’ room an’ never be missed,” she suggested speculatively, “but I wouldn’t if I was you.”

“No,” said Diana crisply, “no flowers at all. This isn’t a festive occasion. I don’t feel right to make it so. It wouldn’t be appreciated if I did. Let the flowers stay where they are.”

“You’re right,” said the old servant. “You’re not called upon to do more than your father suggested. She’s not one would ever miss the blossoms, not if she didn’t get them herself.”

So the table was set with a fine new tablecloth and napkins that had never yet been monogrammed, set with formal precision and care but with no festive touches, and Diana hesitated a long time whether to set a plate for herself. Would it not be better taste to let them eat by themselves this first time? It would be much pleasanter for her not to have to be present.

But Maggie shook her head. “It’s your right to be at your father’s table, an’ I’m sure he would consider it an unnecessary affront. He’ll find out soon enough what a bitter mistake he’s made without your hastenin’ it.”

So Diana let the place stay and went away to her room to face this new thought about the dinner. How was she going to eat dinner under the circumstances? The food would choke her. And if she didn’t eat, her father would be annoyed and speak of it and Helen would laugh with that look of a naughty little devil in her eye. If she only had someone to advise her and help her through this hard time! For an instant she had a wild thought of asking Bobby Watkins to come to dinner, and then immediately she knew that would not do. For, in addition to the fact that he hated Helen and considered her very ill-bred and that Helen always made fun of him to his face, there was the fear that both her father and Helen would, of course, think that Bobby had become something more to her than just a friend, and Diana realized that that would be most repulsive to her. It would be equivalent to announcing that she was engaged to him! Inviting him that way in an intimate family party the first night her father brought his new wife home. And, of course, she didn’t want them to think any such thing as that. Bobby would take such significance out of it also. No, she couldn’t invite Bobby, even if she wanted him there, and she didn’t.

The afternoon went all too swiftly at the last for the numberless little things that were to be done. Diana felt as if she had lived through centuries since she had received that awful letter from her father. It seemed as if she had passed through every phase of human feeling that there was. And at last she stood by the window in the living room looking out down the drive, just as she had done that morning when the letter came. But there was no crystal vase with carnations by her side. She had hidden it in her closet. Helen should not get a sight of the carnations, not if she had to burn them up. Her romance would turn into ashes if once Helen found out about it.

Diana was dressed plainly in a slim black dress with nothing to brighten it. She would not give the impression of having dressed up. She had knelt down beside her bed before she left her room and prayed to God that He would help her to behave in a right way in this new and trying situation, but it had not done her much good. She had never learned to pray in anything but a formal way, and she had no heart in her prayer now, but it seemed that she needed some help somewhere lest she overstep the bounds of justice in the present part she had to play in the tragedy that her life had become. She had no desire to do anything which would be unjust to either her father or Helen, but her love for her father and her indignation for what he had done and her hatred for Helen’s ways were so mixed up in her frantic young mind that she wasn’t able to discern just where was the borderline between right and wrong; so she went to God, feeling that if it were something He really cared about, He might in some mysterious way help her. That was all she knew of God.

So Diana stood in her slim black dress with big dark circles under her eyes and weary lines around her young lips and watched down the driveway for her father and her new mother to come.

It was growing dark and there were cheery little lights twinkling from the cottage through the trees. She watched them enviously. It wasn’t likely that the cottage housed any such tragedy as had come to her. A mansion didn’t bring happiness. How glad she had been that they had been able to keep their own big house that had been home so many dear years. But how gladly would she tonight surrender the big house and go and live in the little cottage by the gate, just she and her father together, if only they might have each other and not Helen!

And then, just as she felt tears smarting into her eyes again in spite of all her best efforts, another light flashed out from the group of trees and came rapidly on around the curve of the drive. A taxi! They had come, and now she must meet them! A panic seized upon her and she longed to flee to her room, lock her door, and refuse to come down, but she stood her ground; and the taxi came on, swept up in front of the door, and stopped. The new mistress had arrived!

G
ordon MacCarroll brought home a little cheap car that night and housed it in the speck of a garage that used to be a barn. There wasn’t much room for anything else in the building when the little car got in, but Gordon’s mother came out to admire the shabby little car and to beam upon her son with pleasure when he told her what a bargain he had made in buying it.

“There are just one or two things that need fixing up, and I know how to fix them,” he said gleefully. “The fellow that sold it is going abroad, and he has no use for it anymore. He just got his orders to go and he hadn’t much time to sell, so he was willing to let it go at a bargain. And now, Mother, I shan’t have to be dependent on trains and buses any longer.”

“Yes, but you’ll be very careful, my son,” said the mother, eyeing the car dubiously. “I’ve always felt afraid of them. Of course, I know you are a careful driver, but it’s other people I’m afraid of.”

“Well, Mother, I guess we can trust that to God, can’t we? Aren’t we as safe one place as another if we’re following His guidance?”

“Yes, of course,” said his mother timorously, and then more firmly, “Yes,
of course
!”

He laughed and drew her arm through his.