"Why not?" said Leonora, amazed; then she colored, and said, demurely: "Oh, yes, I understand now. You can not spare me. I shall have to help work for my living."
"No, you shall not," indignantly; "I did not mean that at all. I should be mean if I thought of such a thing. But there's Lady Lancaster. She wouldn't like it."
A pretty little frown came between Leonora's straight, dark brows.
"Wouldn't you like me to go out-doors? Is that what you mean?" she asked, and when Mrs. West answered "Yes," she said, angrily and decidedly:
"Lady Lancaster has nothing to do with my movements, and I don't suppose she will grudge me a breath of God's free air and sunshine even if I walk in her grounds to obtain them."
"But I promised her—" said Mrs. West, then paused bashfully.
"I hope you didn't promise her to bury me alive in this musty little chamber, at all events," said the girl, with an irreverent glance around her.
"Yes, I did. At least I promised to keep you out of her sight. She does not like children."
"I'm not a child," said Leonora, looking her tallest.
"Yes. I forgot that. I will ask her if her objections extend to a young lady," Mrs. West said, with a hesitating air. She was a little afraid of a contretemps of some kind. The girl's great eyes were flashing, her pretty red lips curling disdainfully.
"Aunt West, are you going to stay on at Lancaster Park, and am I to stay here with you?" she asked, slowly.
"That was my expectation, dear," the housekeeper answered, mildly.
"And—am I here on Lady Lancaster's sufferance? Am I—hired to her?"
"Why, no, of course not, Leonora, child. She has nothing at all to do with you. My lady was very kind. She did not send me away because I was about to adopt a daughter. She permitted me to have you here, and she made but one condition."
"And that?"
"That I was to keep you limited to my rooms—to keep you out of her sight. She did not want to be pestered by a child."
"Ah!" Leonora drew a long breath, as with her white fingers she patted the soft rings of hair down upon her white forehead.
"Yes, you can not blame her, surely, dear. You see, my lady is an old woman. She is eighty years old, and she has never had any children. So of course she would not like to be bothered with other people's. She is very ill-natured, and very peculiar, but perhaps when she finds out you are a young lady she will not care if you go out into the grounds some."
"And to the house, Aunt West—am not I to go over that? Papa has told me so much about these grand old English homes. I should like to go over one so much," said the girl.
"I will take you over the house myself, some day. You shall see it, never fear, child, but not for some time yet. You see, the place is full of grand company now."
"Lady Lancaster's company?" asked Leonora.
"Why, yes, of course," said Mrs. West. "She has twenty guests—fine, fashionable people from London, and they are all very gay indeed. You shall see them all at dinner this evening. I will find you a peep-hole. It will be a fine sight for you."
"I dare say," said Leonora, speaking rather indistinctly, because she had two pins in her mouth and was fastening a clean linen collar around her neck.
"How coolly she takes things! I suppose that is the American way," thought Mrs. West. "But then of course she can have no idea what a brave sight it is to see the English nobility dining at a great country-house. She will be quite dazzled by the black coats and shining jewels and beautiful dresses. I don't suppose they have anything like it in her country," mused the good woman, whose ideas of America were so vague that she did not suppose it had advanced very far from the condition in which Columbus discovered it.
"I should not think," said her niece, breaking in upon these silent cogitations, "that Lady Lancaster, being so old—'one foot in the grave and the other on the brink,' as they say—would care about all that gay company around her. Does she lead such a life always?"
"Oh, no. It is only now and then she is so dissipated. But she must keep up the dignity of the Hall, you know, for the sake of Lord Lancaster. All this present gayety is in honor of his return."
"Has Lord Lancaster been abroad, then?" Leonora asked, carelessly.
"Why, my love, what a strange question!" said her aunt, staring.
"What is there strange about it, Aunt West?" asked the girl.
"Why, that you should ask me if Lord Lancaster has been abroad—as if any one should know better than yourself."
"I, Aunt West? Why, what should I know of Lady Lancaster's husband?" exclaimed Leonora, wondering if her aunt's brain were not just a little turned.
"Why, my dear girl, who said anything about her husband? She's a dowager. The old Lord Lancaster has been dead these two years. Of course I meant the young heir."
"The old lady's son?" asked Leonora, irreverently.
"Her nephew, my dear. You know I told you just now that she never had a child."
"Oh, yes, I was very careless to forget that. I beg your pardon. So then it is her nephew who has been abroad?"
"Yes, or rather her husband's nephew," replied Mrs. West.
"Where has he been, aunt?" continued the girl, carelessly.
Mrs. West looked as if she thought Leonora had parted with her senses, if ever she had possessed any.
"Why, he has been to America, of course. Didn't he fetch you to England, Leonora? And hasn't he but just gone out of the room? Are you making fun of your old auntie, dear?"
Leonora stood still, looking at her relative with a pale, startled face.
"Why, that was Captain Lancaster," she said, faintly after a minute.
"Of course," answered Mrs. West. "He's an officer in the army, but he is Lord Lancaster, of Lancaster Park, too. Dear me, dear me, didn't you really know that much, Leonora?"
"N-no; I didn't. I thought he was nothing but a soldier. He—he told me that he was as poor as—as a church-mouse!" faltered Leonora, as red as a rose, and with a lump in her throat. She was just on the point of breaking down and crying with vexation. How had he dared chaff her so?
"Well, so he is poor—not as poor as a church-mouse, of course, for he has Lancaster Park and five thousand acres of woodland; but then he has no money—it was all squandered by the dead-and-gone lords of Lancaster. So Captain Clive Lancaster never left the army when he came into the title. He could not support it properly, and so my lady lives on here, and some day, if he marries to please her, she will give him all her money," said Mrs. West, volubly.
Leonora went over to the window, and stood looking out at the fair, peaceful English landscape in silence. Her readiness of speech seemed to have deserted her. The pretty face was pale with surprise.
"You must be tired, dear. Do lie down and rest yourself," said Mrs. West. "I must leave you now for a little while. Oh, I had almost forgotten—your luggage, Leonora—did you bring any?"
"Yes, there were several trunks," Leonora answered, without turning her head.
"I will have them brought in," said Mrs. West. Then she bustled away and left the girl alone.
She was not tired, probably, for she did not lie down. She only pulled a chair to the window and sat down. Then she clasped her small hands together on the window-sill, rested her round, dimpled chin upon them, and gazed at the sky with a thoughtful, far-off look in her eyes.
Meanwhile Mrs. West's mind teemed with uneasy thoughts.
"She's rather strange, I'm afraid," the good woman said to herself. "I think, perhaps, poor Dick has humored her some—she will not bear restraint well—I can see that! And what will Lady Lancaster say to a grown-up girl instead of a little one, as we expected? I'm afraid I see rocks ahead. And yet how pretty and bright she is—too pretty to belong to the housekeeper's room, I'm afraid. Lady Lancaster will be vexed at her, if ever she sees her. She is too independent in her ways to suit my lady. They must not be allowed to meet as long as I can help it," sighing.
CHAPTER XIX