The Third Miss St Quentin

And Ella drew her own conclusions.

It was with curiously mingled feelings that she looked forward to the visit to her godmother’s the next day.

“Very likely,” she thought, “Sir Philip will not be there. As Ermine isn’t going Madelene and his grandmother won’t mind whether he is or not. No,” she went on, “no, it isn’t my godmother’s doing. I won’t think it. It is only Madelene – I don’t even feel sure that Ermine herself wants it. She, I must say, always seems pleased to put me forward. I’ll never forget Madelene’s face when she saw whom I was dancing with that evening at the Manor.” Madelene however did not seem as devoid of interest in her young sister, as Ella in her present mood would have liked to imagine. One of the prettiest of the frocks she had brought with her from her aunt’s, was looked out and revived by Mélanie’s skilful hands, under Miss St Quentin’s own supervision, and Ermine herself assisted at Ella’s toilet.

“You look lovely, – doesn’t she now, Maddie?” she exclaimed, when Madelene glanced in to say that the carriage was round. “Now don’t look forbidding – let me spoil the child a bit for once. That shade of pink does suit her —almost better than white. It’s the shade Philip likes so – now, Ella, don’t forget to ask him from me if it isn’t his favourite colour.”

“Do you often wear it?” said Ella, meaningly.

“Bless the child, what does Philip care what I wear?” exclaimed Ermine.

But Madelene’s displeasure was not to be mistaken this time.

“Ermine,” she said coldly, “you really must not run on so heedlessly. Of course Philip cares. Even if he were really our brother, as you like to say he seems – he would care. And he will care about Ella too because she is our sister. But you shouldn’t talk such nonsense – I mean send silly messages like that. It would make Ella feel and look quite foolish.”

And she turned back for an instant as she and Ella were going down stairs, to reprimand Ermine still more sharply.

“Do you want to teach the child to flirt?” she asked. “You have agreed with me that there was quite enough tendency of the kind about her already. You will be getting into trouble, Ermine, if you don’t take care – making her fancy Philip is in love with her, and preparing great unhappiness for her, poor child, perhaps.”

But Ermine only laughed.

“Nonsense, Maddie,” she said. “Why must you always be so gloomy about everything? You really needn’t be so cross to me when I’ve given in so sweetly about going to the Marchants – all to please you, you know.”

And Madelene could not resist her kiss, nor resent the whispered warning at the last moment – not to spoil Ella’s evening by looking severe.

Ella was scarcely in a humour to have been much depressed or impressed by her sister’s looks. Her spirits rose with every yard that separated them from Coombesthorpe, and when they arrived at Cheynesacre and were received in the drawing-room by her godmother the girl flew into her arms as if she had been a caged bird escaping at last from its gloomy prison into sunshine and brightness.

“Oh, dear godmother, dear, dear godmother,” she whispered, “I am so pleased to be with you again.” It was impossible not to be touched; she was so genuinely sweet, and she looked so pretty. There were tears in the old lady’s eyes, as she kissed her god-daughter.

“My dear little Ella,” she said. “Then you have forgiven me?”

“Forgiven you?” Ella repeated; “what for, dear godmother?”

“For the trick I played you, or helped to play you and Philip here the other evening? Philip has forgiven me – it really was very funny.”

Sir Philip came forward from the other side of the screen where he had been talking to Madelene. “Ella has done better than I, granny,” he said, as he shook hands with her. “She has not only forgiven but forgotten, it appears.”

Ella started a little when he spoke of her by name. It was still difficult to disassociate him from the attractive “stranger” of the Manor ball.

“I think it was rather too bad of them all,” she said, “but I couldn’t have been vexed with godmother when it was all her doing – all the deliciousness of going to the dance at all.”

She had no time to say more, barely to catch sight of the grave expression with which Madelene was listening to her, when she was interrupted by the arrival of other guests.

There was a party of fourteen, all strangers to Ella, though several among them recognised her as the lovely “Miss Wyndham” who had so puzzled everybody at the Manor. Ella’s squire was a man who declared he had not yet recovered from the disappointment of her not having given him a dance on the occasion in question. He was evidently an adept at flirting and seemed very disappointed when a few words from his charming companion proved that that was “not her style.” Not so, Sir Philip, whose dark eyes spoke satisfaction when he overheard the ladylike little snub, for he had arranged with his grandmother that Ella should be his neighbour on the left.

“She will be so much of a stranger; it is really the first time she has dined here properly,” he said, and Lady Cheynes made no difficulty.

That dinner was a very pleasant experience to Ella. Philip’s manner was perfect. He made her feel quite at home, even while taking care that no one present could have suspected such care was required.

“It is the first time I have really felt as if I had not been brought up a stranger to them all,” thought she to herself, and the only thing that in the least marred her complete satisfaction was the catching sight now and then of Madelene’s eyes fixed upon her with an anxious, almost, Ella could have imagined, pitying expression.

“She thinks I am having my head turned,” thought Ella, with a slight involuntary toss of the said head. “And she is pitying me too for imagining that Sir Philip could possibly care about me, when all his devoirs are, or should be, consecrated to Ermine.” And it was with increased determination to resist any attempt at restraint which Madelene might try, that Ella responded in her sweetest and most charming manner to her “step”-cousin’s attentions.

Her godmother was not displeased, thus much was certain. For she called the girl to her in the drawing-room after dinner, to introduce her to her old friend Lady Beltravers, who with her husband made two of the guests, and made her sit beside her while she fondled and petted her.

“I must make much of her, you see,” she said half apologetically to Lady Beltravers. “She has been away from us for so long! It is not like having a godchild of one’s own, never to see her, is it? Did Philip take good care of you at dinner, my dear child?” she went on, turning to Ella. “He would not give you up to any one else, I assure you, though by rights Mrs Monkerton should have been at his left side.”

Lady Beltravers smiled kindly at Ella.

“I wish we had any young people about us,” she said with a little sigh. “My son has no children, you know – and then he is always so busy. Won’t you bring Miss St Quentin – ”

“Call me ‘Ella,’ please,” interrupted the girl. “I’m not Miss St Quentin, and besides – any friend of dear godmother’s – ”

“Ella, then,” went on the old lady, completely subjuguée– “won’t you bring Ella over to see me, while she is with you? We might make up a little party – it is so near Christmas and there are a few young people in the neighbourhood just now – let me see, the day after to-morrow – ”

“But I am not staying here after to-morrow,” said Ella gently, “my sister and I are going back to Coombesthorpe to-morrow morning.”

“Yes,” said Madelene, who at that moment joined the group, “we must be off early, too. There are such a lot of things to do just at Christmas time. We have to settle about Christmas day too, Aunt Anna. Papa does so hope you and Philip will come to us.”

“On one condition,” said Lady Cheynes quickly, “and that is that you will leave me Ella till then. I will bring her back to you on Christmas eve, that is next Monday, without fail. Ermine leaves – let me see, when is it?”

“The day after Christmas,” Madelene replied.

“Ah, well then, it would of course be selfish to take Ella from you when you are alone. But till then – you and Ermine will have lots of preparations to make for her visit; this child here would only be in the way.”

Madelene murmured something about “papa.” Her face was a curious study, so mingled were its expressions – of pleasure and even excitement, of almost wistful anxiety and misgiving. Ella watched her closely; the misgiving she was quick to see, not so the pleasure.

“Of course she will find some reason against it,” thought the girl.

Lady Cheynes tapped Miss St Quentin on the arm.

“Come, Maddie, my dear,” she said, “you are keeping us all waiting. Lady Beltravers too.”

Madelene coloured.

“I don’t really think it is for me to decide, Aunt Anna,” she replied. “You have quite as much – more – voice in it than I. I should be delighted for Ella to stay – and I am almost sure papa would be so too.”

“Then put it upon me,” said the old lady decidedly. “Tell your father I kept Ella – subject to his approval of course – if he doesn’t like it, he may send over to fetch her home to-morrow afternoon.”

Ella crept to her godmother’s side and threw her arms round Lady Cheynes ecstatically.

“Oh, godmother, how sweet you are! Oh, Madelene, you will make papa let me stay, won’t you?”

Madelene smiled: it was impossible to resist Ella sometimes.

“I do hope it will do no harm,” thought the elder sister to herself.

Just then Sir Philip and the other men came in; Madelene was asked to play, and Ella to sing, her sister accompanying her. It was the first time Philip had heard her.