Chapter XVII: A Gala Day at Greentree

GREENTREE HALL, the residence of Squire Canfield, as the countryfolk called him, was situated not more than a quarter of a mile from "Gay Bowers," measuring the distance as the crow flies. The entrance gates and pretty thatched lodge stood midway between the Vicarage and the village green. A fine avenue of elms led up to the Hall, which had been the home of Canfields for many generations. The present owner of the property, a man verging on old age, was a worthy descendant of the good old family.

John Canfield was justly proud of his venerable house and beautiful grounds. He employed several gardeners, and could boast the best-kept gardens in the neighbourhood. His head gardener was wont to win the chief prizes at most of the local flower shows. The extensive conservatories belonging to Greentree Hall were well worth seeing, and when they were in the perfection of their beauty the Squire would invite all his friends and acquaintances for many miles round to come and see them. The garden party, for which Mrs. Canfield issued invitations every June, was a festivity much appreciated in the locality, and by no means despised by town folk, for a good many visitors came from London by the mid-day express to assist at it. Mrs. Canfield was generally fortunate in having good weather for her entertainment. Never could she have had a more brilliant day than this promised to be.

Aunt Patty needed my help in various ways that morning, and I was glad to be well occupied. I saw hardly anything of Agneta before luncheon. She kept upstairs, and I fancied she was engaged in arranging some details of her dress for the afternoon. Mrs. Canfield, with whom Aunt Patty was on the most neighbourly terms, had begged her to bring her young people early, as she wanted our assistance in starting the games.

Her own daughters were both married; one, the wife of an Essex M.P., was coming from town with her husband for the day. Aunt Patty had promised that we would be there by three o'clock, for which hour the guests were invited.

My toilette was quickly made—a short, light skirt and a pretty blouse, specially designed by Olive for the occasion, gave me an agreeable sense of being suitably attired.

"You look as nice as possible, Nan," Agneta said, casting a careless glance at me as she fastened her shoe-string. "One cannot be very smart when one is expected to play tennis."

"Nevertheless you seem to have achieved it," I said as I looked at her. She was dressed as I had not seen her before—in a short skirt and smart little coat of white serge, with gold buttons and gold braiding on collar and cuffs. Her vest was of pale blue silk, daintily finished with lace, and her simple white hat completed a costume which was in remarkably good taste for my cousin. "I never saw you more becomingly dressed."

She laughed, and her face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you," she said. "I am glad you approve; it is something to win a compliment from you."

Her trouble of yesterday seemed entirely to have vanished, unless her excessive nervousness were a trace of it. It must be weakness that made her lips twitch so strangely as she talked, and the fingers with which she was tying her shoe strings tremble so much that she was very slow in securing them.

As I observed her I heard Aunt Patty's voice from below, crying:

"Come, girls, are you ready? It is time we went."

"You are ready, are you not, Agneta?" I said.

"Oh, yes—only—I must find another handkerchief," she replied. "Don't wait for me, Nan—I'll overtake you. I know the way through the fields."

I ran downstairs, and told Aunt Patty that Agneta would be there in a minute. Apparently the handkerchief was hard to find, for though we waited several minutes she did not come. At last we passed into the garden. We had no intention of walking by the road. We had only to go through the orchard and across two fields beyond, and we were in Greentree Park. So aunt and I strolled slowly on. Colonel Hyde and Mr. Dicks would follow later, but we knew that Mrs. Canfield would like us to be there when her guests began to arrive.

"What can be keeping Agneta?" I said when we reached the end of the first field. We waited, looking impatiently towards "Gay Bowers," but she did not appear. "I must run back and hurry her," I said at last. "She has not been to the Hall before, so I cannot leave her to follow alone. Don't wait for us, auntie."

"I suppose you had better go back," said aunt reluctantly, "but don't make yourself hot by running. I will walk on slowly."

In spite of aunt's warning, I retraced my steps pretty quickly. Nothing was to be seen of Agneta. I called to her as I entered the house, but received no reply. I hurried upstairs to our room; it was unoccupied. Hastening downstairs again, I encountered Jenny, our housemaid.

"Miss Redmayne has gone, miss," she said. "I saw her go out of the gate a few minutes ago."

"Out of the gate," I repeated. "Do you mean that she went by the road? Whatever made her do that? It is much farther."

"So I thought, miss," replied Jenny. "I wondered she should take that way, with all the dust there'll be from the vehicles coming along presently. She had her dust-cloak on her arm, though."

"Her dust-cloak!" I exclaimed. "You must be mistaken, Jenny. My cousin would not be likely to carry a dust-cloak to the Hall."

"I was surprised myself, miss, to see Miss Redmayne with it, but she certainly did take it," Jenny persisted.

"How very strange!" I said, amazed that Agneta should exhibit such unusual and, to my mind, absurd carefulness on this occasion. "Well, it is no good my following her along the road. If I go across the fields I shall be there almost as soon as she is."

As I spoke a carriage full of ladies drove past our gate, and I could hear another vehicle following it. People were coming early, determined to have a long and pleasant afternoon. I turned back, feeling annoyed with my cousin, and was by no means cool when I reached the Park. I saw Aunt Patty in the midst of a group on the lawn, but Agneta was not with her. Before I could look about for my cousin, Mrs. Canfield met me, greeted me kindly, and asked me to go and see if the croquet hoops were properly set. They were not quite at the right distances, and I was hurriedly altering them when a strong hand took the last one from my grasp, and fixed it for me. With pleasure I perceived that Jack Upsher had come to my assistance.

"You here, Jack!" I exclaimed. "Then the exam is over?"

"Rather!" he said. "But I could not get away till twelve o'clock to-day. I have hardly been home half-an-hour, but I was not going to miss this social function if I could help it."

"Really," I said, "You astonish me! This is something new. It seems only the other day that you were saying how stupid you found this festivity last year."

"And so I did," he coolly replied. "You were not here last year, Nan. That fact makes all the difference."

"Oh, I dare say!" I responded with a laugh. "You don't think my vanity is equal to swallowing that? By the by, did you see anything of Agneta as you came through the grounds?"

"No," he said. "Why? Have you lost your cousin?"

"Hardly that," I said with a smile; "but I have missed her somehow, and I am afraid she may be feeling lonely as she knows hardly any one here. We will go and look for her. But now tell me how you got on in your exam."

"Oh, don't ask me, Nan!" he groaned. "You may expect to hear that I am ploughed again."

"Nonsense I shall expect nothing of the kind," was my reply. "You might tell me how you think you have done."

"Oh, badly," he said, "though I am not without a faint hope that I may squeeze through. I sincerely hope it may be so, for the governor's sake. I say, where's that crank of a professor?"

As he spoke we had come round to the front of the Hall, and saw before us a party on the lawn. The number of the guests had increased considerably, but I looked in vain for Agneta.

"I don't know what you mean," I said stiffly. Then I saw Aunt Patty coming towards me with the evident intention of addressing me.

"Nan," she said as she came up, "what about Agneta?"

"What about her?" I repeated stupidly, as I glanced around. "She is not here?"

"Of course not," said Aunt Patty quickly, "but you saw her—how is she?"

"I did not see her," was my reply; "Jenny said she had started."

"Then what is the meaning of this, which a servant has just brought me?" aunt asked, holding out an envelope as she spoke. Within, hastily pencilled on a slip of paper, were the words:

"Dear Mrs. Lucas,—I am sorry to say that I cannot come. My head
is bad. Please express my regret to Mrs. Canfield."

"AGNETA."

I was amazed. Agneta had made no complaint of headache to me, nor had she seemed to be suffering in any way. One wild conjecture after another presented itself to my mind with lightning speed, and I suppose my expression betrayed something of what was passing within, for Aunt Patty exclaimed hastily:

"What is it, Nan? Of what are you thinking? Why do you look like that?"

"Oh, nothing," I replied hurriedly, "but I must go; I must find out what is wrong with Agneta."

"Yes, do," said my aunt; "walking in the sun may have upset her and obliged her to turn back. Go quickly, dear, and, if she should seem really ill, be sure to send word to me."

"I will come with you," said Jack.

"You will do nothing of the kind," I replied. "You will stay and start some games of tennis and croquet, and help Mrs. Canfield, as I promised to do, until I come back."

"Oh, I say—" he began; but I waved him away, and was off for the nearest exit from the Park. I needed no urging to haste. Once within the fields, I ran at my utmost speed, for a painful suspicion had taken possession of my mind. Had I fallen into a snare when I agreed to say nothing to Aunt Patty about Ralph Marshman till this day was over?

I reached the house and tore upstairs to our bedroom. Agneta was not there. Everything belonging to her was left in perfect order. A hasty glance round convinced me that she had been gathering her things together and arranging them with a certain method and purpose.

I had now no fear that my cousin was ill. A very different explanation forced itself upon my mind. So strong was this conviction that I did not wait to search the house. After one futile call, unheard even by the servants, who had betaken themselves to the garden, and were watching from behind the trees the unusual traffic along the quiet country road, I got out my bicycle, mounted it, and rode at full speed for Chelmsford.

I felt desperate as I sped along the road. For the first time in my career as a cyclist I was guilty of "scorching." Agneta must have had fully half-an-hour's start of me. How she had gone I could not tell; probably she had availed herself of one of the conveyances returning from Greentree Hall. I knew that a train left Chelmsford for London some time between three and four o'clock, and by this I imagined that she would travel, for I had made up my mind that she was bent on elopement. If only I could get to the station before that train started! It hardly seemed possible that I could be in time.

I had never ridden so hard before, and I certainly never felt so ashamed of myself. I kept meeting carriages carrying guests to the garden party. With many of the people I was doubtless acquainted, but I looked neither to the right nor left as I rode on, mechanically steering my way as directly as possible. How thankful I was that my machine was such a splendid runner! I got over the ground at a record pace. I dimly wondered, as I passed each conveyance, whether the people it carried would think me mad, or imagine that sudden illness or accident was the cause of my thus rushing into town. Those who recognised me would assuredly think it very strange that I should be going from Greentree in such haste on that afternoon.

But now I was coming into the town, and it behoved me to ride more circumspectly, if I would not get into trouble. I heard a church clock strike the half-hour, and felt sure that I should miss the train unless it were behind time, which might possibly happen, as it came up from Ipswich, and I believed it was market day there. The way to the station seemed to have mysteriously lengthened out; but I turned the corner at last, and saw the booking-office before me.

The train was just coming in as I sprang from my bicycle and gave it into the care of a porter. I got my ticket and rushed on to the platform. My eyes fell on Agneta, wrapped in her long grey dust-cloak, just as she was stepping into a carriage. A porter was closing the door. By an imperious sign, I bade him hold it open, and, running up, sprang breathless into the compartment just as the train began to move. As I sank panting on to a seat opposite to my cousin, she uttered a cry of surprise and dismay.