: The Heart of Una Sackville by Vaizey George De Horne Mrs Tarrant Peter Illustrator - Young women Fiction; Love stories; Diary fiction; Triangles (Interpersonal relations) Fiction; England Social life and customs Fiction

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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eive me. I've been home with friends, so I know; but my mother is different. I don't think I should like it if she did come! It doesn't fit into my idea of her, some way. Mother is like a queen-- everyone waits upon her, and goes up to her presence like a throne-room. I peeped into the mirror in the hall as I passed, and tucked back some ends of hair, and straightened my tie, and then the door opened, and there she stood--the darling!--holding out her arms to welcome me, with her eyes all soft and tender, as they used to be when she came to say "good night." Mother is not demonstrative as a rule, so you simply love it when she is. She looks quite young, and she was the beauty of the county when she was a girl, and I never did see in all my life anybody so immaculately perfect in appearance! Her dresses fit as if she had been melted into them; her skirts stand out, and go crinkling in and out into folds just exactly like the fashion-plates; her hair looks as if it had been done a minute before--I don't believe she would have a single loose end if she were out in a tornado. It's the same, morning, noon and night; if she were wrecked on a desert island she would be a vision of elegance. It's the way she was born. I can't think how I came to be her daughter, and I know I'm a trial to her with my untidiness.

We hugged each other, and she put her hands on each side of my face, and we kissed and kissed again. She is taller than I am, and very dark, with beautiful aquiline features, and deep brown eyes. She is very slight--I'm sure my waist is about twice as big--and her hands look so pretty with the flashing rings. I'm awfully proud of my mother!

"My darling girl! How rejoiced I am to have you back. Sit down here and let me see you. How well you look, dear--not any thinner yet, I see! It will be delightful to have you at home for good, for Vere is away so much that I have felt quite bereft. Sit up, darling--don't stoop! It will be so interesting to have another girl to bring out! There are plenty of young people about here now, so you need not be dull, and I hope we shall be great companions. You were a sad little hoyden in the old days, but now that you have passed eighteen you will be glad to settle down, won't you, dear, and behave like the woman you are. Have you no little brooch, darling, to keep that collar straight at the neck? It is all adrift, and looks so untidy. Those little things are of such importance. I had such a charming letter from Miss Martin, full of nice speeches about you. She says you sing so sweetly. You must have some good lessons, for nothing is more taking than a young voice properly trained, and I hope you have no foolish nervousness about singing in public. You must get over it, if you have, for I rely on you to help me when we have visitors."

"I want to help you, mother. I will truly try," I said wistfully. I don't know why exactly, but I felt depressed all of a sudden. I wanted her to be so pleased at my return that she didn't notice anything but just me, and it hurt to be called to order so soon. I looked across the room, and caught a glimpse of our two figures reflected in a glass--such a big, fair, tousled creature as I looked beside her, and my heart went down lower then ever. I shall disappoint her, I know I shall! She expects me to be an elegant, accomplished young lady like Vere, and I feel a hoyden still, and not a bit a grown-up woman; besides, father said I was to keep young. How am I to please them both, and have time left over to remember Miss Martin's lessons? It strikes me, Una Sackville, you have got your work cut out.

Mother brought me up to see my room. She has looked after it all herself, and taken no end of trouble making the shades. It looked sweet in the sunshine, and I shall love sitting in the little round window writing my adventures in this book; but now that it's dark I miss the girls: I wonder what Lorna and Florence are doing now? Talking of me, I expect, and crying into their pillows. It seems years since we parted, and already I feel such miles apart. It seems almost impossible to believe that last night I was eating thick bread-and-butter for supper and lying down in the middle bed in the bare old dormitory. Now already I feel quite grown up and responsible. Oh, if I live to be a hundred years old, I shall never, never be at school again! I've been so happy. I wonder, I wonder shall I ever be as happy again?

The weather has been lovely, and I do think ours is the very dearest old house in the world. It is described in the guide-books as "a fine old Jacobean mansion," and all sorts of foreign royal creatures have stayed here as a place of refuge in olden days before father's people bought it. It is red brick covered with ivy, and at the right side the walls go out in a great semicircle, with windows all round giving the most lovely view. Opposite the door is a beautiful old cedar, which I used to love to climb as a child, and should now if I had my own way. Its lower branches dip down to the grass and make the most lovely bridge to the old trunk. On the opposite side of the lawn there's another huge tree; hardly anyone knows what it is, but it's a Spanish maple really-- such a lovely thing, all shining silver leaves on dark stems. I used to look from one to the other and think that they looked like youth and age, and summer and winter, and all sorts of poetical things like that.

I spend the mornings with father, and the afternoons with mother. At first she had mapped out my whole day for me--practising, reading, driving, etcetera, but I just said straight out that I'd promised to go the rounds with father, and I think she was glad, though very much surprised.

"He will be so pleased to have you! It's nice of you, dear, to think of it, and after all it will be exercise, and there's not much going on in the morning."

She never seemed to think I should enjoy it, and I suppose it would bore her as much to walk round to the stables and kennels, and talk to the keepers about game, and the steward about new roofs to cottages, and cutting timber, as it does him to go to garden-parties and pay formal calls. It seems strange to live together so long and to be so different.

I have not met many strangers as yet, because Vere is bringing down a party of visitors for August, and mother is not in a hurry to take me about until I have got all my things; but one morning, when I was out with father, I met such a big, handsome man, quite young, with a brown face and laughing eyes, dressed in the nice country fashion which I love--Norfolk jacket, knickerbockers and leggings. Father hailed him at once, and they talked together for a moment without taking any notice of me, and then father remembered me suddenly, and said--

"This is my youngest daughter. Come home from school to play with me, haven't you, Babs?" and the strange man smiled and nodded, and said, "How do, Babs?" just as calmly and patronisingly as if I had been two. For a moment I was furious, until I remembered my hockey skirt and cloth cap, and hair done in a door-knocker, with no doubt ends flying about all round my face. I daresay I looked fourteen at the most, and he thought I was home for the holidays. I decided that it would be rather fun to foster the delusion, and behave just as I liked without thinking of what was proper all the time, and then some day he would find out his mistake, and feel properly abashed. His name is Will Dudley, and he is staying with Mr Lloyd, the agent for the property which adjoins father's, learning how to look after land, for some day he will inherit a big estate from an uncle, so he likes to get all the experience he can, and to talk to father, and go about with him whenever he has the chance, and father likes to have him--I could tell it by the way he looks and talks. We walked miles that morning, over gates and stiles, and across brooks without dreaming of waiting for the bridges, and I climbed and splashed with the best, and Mr Dudley twinkled his eyes at me, and said, "Well jumped, Babs!" and lifted me down from the stiles as if I had been a doll. He must be terrifically strong, for I am no light weight, and he didn't seem to feel me at all.

After that morning we were constantly meeting, and we grew to be quite friends. He has thick, crinkly eyebrows, and is clean-shaven, which I like in his case, as his mouth has such a nice expression. He went on treating me as a child, and father seemed to think it was quite natural. He likes to pretend I am young, poor dear, so that I may be his playmate as long as possible.

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