Chapter XV: Christmas Eve at Tregowan

They all streamed into the house. It was arranged that at the very first opportunity Ralph and George should return with whatever reinforcements they could induce to come with them, and that then the building of the tower should be continued. In the interim Duke assured them that he would devote any spare moments of his own--of which it was possible he might have a few--to the prosecution of the important business they had undertaken. Chandos, however, when requested to accompany his friends, replied, in the politest possible way, that he would do nothing of the kind.

"I won't come near the place," he civilly announced. "No thank you; once is quite enough for me. Once bit twice shy for this child, if you please. And I shan't think it particularly civil of Eva if, after inviting me to be his guest, he goes pottering about the place and leaves me alone. When I have a visitor, I do my best to make him comfortable, but some people's manners are peculiar."

This was said when they were all back in the schoolroom, drinking scalding cups of coffee and eating mighty pieces of cake by way of preparation for their drive to Camborne Station. The girls were present, and Ria, whose notions of ceremony were about on a par with Master Effingham's, not unnaturally deeming this to be a scarcely civil speech, never hesitated to retort.

"Yes, some people's manners are peculiar--very; and if I were some people, I would not invite some other people to stay in my house, unless those people could behave with decency."

This was aimed point-blank at Master Effingham; there was no mistaking that, and Chandos never supposed it otherwise. Taken considerably aback, he stared at the young lady; bearing in mind that their acquaintance had been of the briefest possible kind, that, in fact, they had never met before, Chandos being Devonshire born, and a stranger to Tregowan, it was about as peculiar a speech as his had been. But Winnie poured oil upon the troubled waters. Coming forward with a lady-of-the-household air, which already became her young ladyship so well, she said--

"I hope you will not remain a stranger here. As a friend of Duke, not to mention Ralph, we shall always do our best to make you welcome."

"Thank you," replied Chandos, glowering at Ria, who on her part was red with heat and indignation; "I'm much obliged to you; I shan't trouble you much, and I can't say that I am much the friend of Duke or of Ralph either. I should be sorry to say that either of them is the sort of fellow to suit me."

And he ate the last piece of cake, and put his hands into his pockets, and held his peace until they went. So soon as they had gone, and the door was fairly closed upon their backs, Ria burst out with a frank expression of her opinion.

"Of all the horrid boys I ever saw, I do think he is the horridest! Was ever such a bear? How Ralph Eva could ever have taken pity on him and asked him to his home to spend the holidays is more than I can understand. Nasty, ill-mannered, ungrateful thing! and I do hope that this is the last time he will ever come near this house."

"My dear Ria," said Winnie, so soon as the young lady's impetuosity would give her an opportunity to speak, "I don't know which to admire most, your language or your sentiments. It is gratifying to learn that you clearly perceive that it is the better course to return incivility in kind. It is not so clear to me. It has always seemed to me better to be excessively polite upon your part, whatever other people may be on theirs, on the same principle that, because one person is a thief, that is no reason why I should go and steal as well."

"Whatever Ria says," said Nelly, in her turn, perceiving the young lady had some strong words upon her tongue, "she does not mean to be unintentionally rude. He certainly does not seem to be a particularly pleasing youth, but it appears to be in the poor boy's nature, and not entirely his fault."

But while they were discussing in not too flattering terms the absent Master Chandos Effingham, Duke was going with his visitors to see them off; and as they stood upon the steps outside the great hall-door, George Trevena said something to him which in the issue was destined to have a somewhat important bearing on our tale. It was not a promising night, or rather afternoon; for though it was already dark, it still was early. The sky was black, the clouds hung very low, and were very threatening in their aspect. A cold wind was blowing from the sea, and there was every prospect of another heavy fall of snow ere long. It was a typical winter's evening, and a typical winter's evening is by no means to the ordinary mind a pleasant one. The great hall-doors were open, and the ruddy light cast by the lamps and by the blazing fire lit up the cheerless scene without. He would have been a curiously dispositioned wanderer who would not have longed to escape the rigours of the weather, and take shelter in a house whose promise of a very different state of things was so conspicuous. There stood the pony-cart, shadowing black against the drifting snow; the lamps were lighted, a man stood at the pony's head, and another was at hand to see that their comfort was considered in the way of rugs and wrappers.

"I think, sir, if I were you," said this man--it was one of the grooms attached to the stables--"I would let Jones"--that was the helper at the pony's head--"lead her along until you reach the gates. It's very dark beneath the trees, and the snow is very deep in places. It's better to have some one who knows the way with you."

"Thanks! I think I will," said George, to whom the observation was addressed. "I know the road well enough, but it's uncommonly dark. I'm late enough already, and I shouldn't care to have a spill upon the way; besides, it's the pater's cart, and he might object if I brought it back in pieces."

He spoke as the young man speaks who is twice his age, and not as the youngster which he was. Then he turned to Marmaduke, who stood beside him on the steps.

"I say, Duke, we've got a regular spree on to-morrow night," he said. "It's Christmas Eve, you know."

"Yes," said Duke, for it was anything but news; "I know it is."

"So a lot of us are going carolling. It will be splendid fun going about from place to place. It will be pitch dark, you know, and we can have all sorts of games."

"Who's going?" asked Duke, who at present was not quite clear that he saw the splendid fun of it by any means.

"I'm not," volunteered Effingham, "nor anybody else who's got his senses, I should think. I never heard such lunacy in all my days!"

"No one asked you to," retorted George, "and we wouldn't have you if you came," which was very near a "bull," although they did not see it then. "Ralph is coming, and Willie Anderson, and Eddie Mason, and Penharden, and I daresay Pollyon. Oh, there'll be a regular gang of us, you'll see; and we want you to come as well. It'll be splendid fun, you know."

"But," said Duke, who still was doubtful about the splendid fun, but was tempted, for reasons of his own, by the mention of Pollyon's name, "if Pollyon and Penharden come, however are they going to get back when all is done?"

"Oh, that's their affair, not mine. If it's such a tight fix as that, wo can spare a bed or two."

Master George Trevena was, like Marmaduke, an only son, and was more spoiled than the generality of only sons are apt to be. His father, an easy-going man, was one of the members for the county, and almost constantly away from home. He had lost his mother, and, in the absence of any particular authority, was only too apt to have his own way in everything. "Will you come?" he again asked Marmaduke, who was still hesitating at his side.

"Yes, I'll come," said Duke, making up his mind upon the spot. It was not said because he had any particularly brilliant anticipations of the splendid fun there was to be, nor because he himself desired to go, but solely because he heard that Pollyon would be there. Since a certain talk with Lionel that young gentleman had acquired an entirely new interest in his eyes.

"Then you'll have to have an early dinner and meet us at Treswithian outside the 'Cornish Daws' as soon after seven as possible. Good-bye till then! Now then, you fellows, in with you."

And he hurried down the steps and climbed into the trap. Ralph was in before him; he had an eye to comfort, and had taken his seat beside the driver in the front; Chandos would have the pleasure of crouching at the back. But Chandos had a parting word to exchange with Marmaduke.

"I say, that's a rum sister of yours;" he probably alluded to Ria, but did not distinctly say. "Peculiarly civil sort of girl upon the whole. Girls are such a mumbling set of goshawks as a rule, that it's a comfort to find one with a word to say upon her own account."

Duke laughed. Chandos went down the steps and began to grumble when he discovered what share of the trap was left to him. Then, when he was in, he shouted out to Marmaduke--

"If you go to that thing to-morrow, I shall say you're a bigger idiot than I took you for. It will serve you right if you all get buried in the snow. I did think that there was one with brains among the lot of you."

But before Duke had time to reply, if he were inclined that way, Trevena gave the word to the helper at the pony's head, and the trap moved down the avenue towards the outer gate.

The next day, as George had pointed out, was Christmas Eve, always a great day at Tregowan, for they had all sorts of things to do. First, the church, or rather churches--for on the estate was more than one--had to be decorated, and the Tregowans always took a foremost part in that; then the house itself had to be put into Christmas trim; then all sorts of purchases had to be made, for every one on the estate and connected with the household, no matter what might be his or her position, whether great or small, received a Christmas gift, whether in money or in kind--often, in fact, it took the form of both. As a rule, too, there was a large family gathering at Christmas at Tregowan; but this year, for various causes, it was not to be. Many of the members were abroad, others were engaged in public business which it was impossible for them to put aside even for a time; in short, for one reason or another, this year the usual party was found to be impossible. The only Tregowans at Tregowan would be Mrs. Tregowan and her girls and boy.

At breakfast there was a general discussion of the plans for the day. As if by mutual consent, the matter which perhaps was uppermost in the minds of both was still avoided by the mother and her son. It was plain that for yet another day it would not be touched upon by either. They always breakfasted in what was called the "little parlour," which was not, however, a little room by any means. Like all the other rooms, it was panelled with time-honoured oak, and rare old hangings hung upon the walls. The table was of comfortable size for such a tiny party; the fireplace itself was like a little room, and on the hearth was a pile of blazing logs. The whole apartment had a cheery, comfortable aspect--an aspect which did not incline one to make undue haste with one's matutinal repast.

Mrs. Tregowan was at one end of the table, Duke was at the other, and Winnie sat on one side, while Nelly and Ria were at Duke's right hand.

"I shall be obliged to be at home this morning," said the mother when they had fairly begun the meal; "but if you have no engagement, Duke, I hope that you will go down with the girls to Camborne."

"What! to the church? I shall be delighted, mother; but I'm not much of a hand at decorations."

"We never for a moment were so foolish as to suppose you were." This remark was Nelly's.

"Thank you, Miss Nell; I'll pay you out for that. But I'll do the best I can, and if that isn't much, they'll have to do their best without me. There are always plenty of fellows who are willing to assist. We'll have the mail-phaeton--we can all cram into that; and if we must take a man, as I suppose we must--it's such a nuisance keeping an eye upon the horses--Ria can sit in the back seat with Coxon." And he looked at Ria, who did not reward him with a friendly look in return for his suggestion. Nothing would have pleased Miss Marion better than to sit upon the box and drive the party.

"You will be back for lunch," went on the mother, who was perfectly well aware what was passing through the damsel's mind. "We will put it off to half-past two, or three if you prefer it; but I must have the girls with me this afternoon; there are so many things which must be done which it is impossible for me to do alone."

It suddenly occurred to Duke that lunch at three, or even half-past two, meant dining late, and he remembered that he had bound himself to be at Treswithian at seven.

"Oh, we shall be back before then, mother," he said; "if the girls aren't ready I shall come without them. Lunch at three will mean dinner for me, for I may have something on this evening."

He did not say what he might have "on," and for the minute it did not occur to them to ask him. Winnie suggested a doubt as to whether the materials they had were sufficient to decorate that portion of the church which was allotted to their share, and the conversation turned. So soon as he had finished, Duke rose and went to the stables to superintend the putting of the horses in, so that they might be ready to start at once; thus it happened that no allusion was made to the appointment which was to take him from them on Christmas Eve.

Ere long word was brought that the phaeton was ready whenever the girls might choose to come, and directly afterwards Duke came in in search of them.

"I say, isn't it cold outside?" he said. He himself was enveloped to the chin in a tremendous driving-coat of the choicest pattern, in which he bid fair to be able to resist all elemental rigours. "You girls had better wrap yourselves up in all the muffs and things you've got; it's good enough to bite your noses off. There's no mistake about its freezing now; the snow's as hard as iron."

Acting as he suggested, they disappeared to array themselves in their warmest winter garments, while Duke amused himself by stamping up and down the hall, and wondering what they meant by keeping him so long. Even when they came, they could not start at once, for it appeared that various baskets of flowers and all sorts of mysterious things had to be stored into the phaeton. Duke fumed at the delay.

"Why couldn't you send them in the cart? I thought a cart-load of things had gone down already."

"So there has, but don't you see--when you are quite sure that you are in a better temper, my dearest Duke--that these are special flowers, which we were specially anxious to take ourselves?"

"Oh, I daresay," growled Duke, for he was not to be appeased by Nelly's wheedling; "it's all very well to say they're special flowers, but what's all that string and stuff? And if there's anything I do hate, it is having a lot of things crowded about your legs, so that you can't even move your feet in comfort."

But at last everything was in, and the passengers besides. Duke had got the reins, he gave the word to let them go, and in a smart canter they bowled along the avenue. It was ticklish driving, as he quickly found, for the snow was not only hard, but slippery too, and the horses, fresh as daisies, were inclined to show their heels; but Duke prided himself upon his driving--indeed all the Tregowans, girls and all, could handle a good whip. From babyhood they had been used to horses, and could ride almost as soon as they could walk; while as for driving, if it were a single pony or a pair of beauties, they never feared to occupy the coachman's seat.

And now Duke's skill was called upon to show itself.

"They're very fresh," said Winnie, who sat beside him.

"Rather!" said Duke, whose whole attention was required by his charges; "wait till we get outside, and I'll let them go along a bit."

And when they got outside he did. After the gate through which they went is passed, there is a stretch of level road, then uphill for nearly half a mile. He let them have their heads and away they tore at such a pace! It was splendid going--a little bit too hot to last, but while it did, it was delightful. Away they went, the wind puffing in their faces with that curious feeling of elasticity, of buoyancy, and life which always accompanies rapid movement through the open air. The horses' hoofs rang out upon the ground with a clear metallic ring, the wheels ran over the level snow without the slightest symptom of a jolt; it was perfectly smooth and easy travelling; they seemed to glide along the road. The eager animals, finding that they were to have matters for the present exactly as they pleased, tore up the hill as though it were no impediment at all. And now they reached the top, and Duke, who all the time had kept an attentive eye upon his steeds, kept a tighter hand upon the reins, and checked them somewhat in their wild career.

"That was a pretty piece of going," he remarked, as, breasting the summit of the hill, they reached another level stretch, which ran along until it sank into a sharp decline. "I wonder in what time they'd do a mile? I should just like to find a level line of road, and let them do their best at it; but it's all ups and downs round there."

It was down now with a vengeance. That is as smart a slope as you shall care to see which runs down into Trevenson and winds all through the village. It requires careful driving in the best of weather and on the best of roads, and with such a pair as Duke had then, over a road which was in part as slippery as glass, it requires a cool head and a steady hand to reach the foot without a spill.

"Take care," said Nelly quietly. She knew exactly what was coming--knew the road, and every inch of it; and more than once, in days previous, had wished that some one, not herself, might occupy the driver's seat when going down the hill which leads to Trevenson. She was perfectly aware that under ordinary circumstances Duke was as good a whip as any one three times his age--as good a whip, indeed, as any one might wish to be; but she knew that, like the horses, Master Duke was just a bit excited, and that excitement made him reckless, and she was not at all disposed to break her neck upon the road to Camborne town.

But Duke smiled at the idea of there being any necessity to warn him to take care, though at the same time he knew that the slightest bungling upon his part might land them with uncomfortable suddenness upon the frost-bound road; and Winnie's colour mounted a little higher, for she, like Marmaduke, rejoiced in the face of danger; and, moreover, she knew that she could trust the lad so well; and Ria, who was about the most reckless and audacious maid alive, felt inclined to clap her hands and urge Duke to let them gallop down the hill as fast as they could go; but Coxon, the man-servant, who sat with folded arms and a countenance for expression like a wooden block, tightened his lips, and looked straight in front of him, in the full expectation that the "young master" was going to give them an agreeable time.

Nor was his anticipation entirely wrong. Duke did mean to let his steeds go down that hill at a good round pace, and did mean to enjoy the rare luxury of a canter down the hill--and what he meant to do he did. Nelly resigned herself to fate, and privately disengaged her feet from the baskets of flowers on the floor and prepared for jumping. Winnie just drew a good long breath, and sat well back, with parted lips, in an ecstasy too great for speech. Ria could hardly restrain herself from jumping up and shouting out "Hurrah!" while Coxon even ventured on a smile--it was the sort of thing he thoroughly enjoyed himself; but which, as he very well knew, as often as not resulted in disaster on the way.

Take care! they were almost over, almost laid upon their sides, or heads, or anywhere except where they would like to be. There was a hole or something in the snow, which almost succeeded in spilling them. Look out! the off-mare shied. It was now look out indeed. The canter all at once became a gallop. The inside mare sympathised with her shying colleague, and between them it looked very much as though they meant to run away. Ria's unspoken wish was gratified. There was no mistake about their galloping downhill.

"Be steady, Duke," said Nelly, still quietly. "We are almost in the village, and you don't know who may be on the road. There are always children playing in the street."

"It will be bad for any one who is," said Duke.

Suddenly the look returned to him which we last saw beside the ruined train and in the talk with Lionel Pollyon--that "forlorn-hope" expression on his face. He sat well back, and, holding the reins with both his hands, tugged at the horses like grim death.

"They shall have it out," he said. "If there's nothing on the road we shall not come to grief."

They had it out! They tore through Trevenson--luckily there was nothing upon the road; but before they came to Camborne the pair had had about enough of it; but, none the less, although they dropped out of a gallop, they tore into the town at a tremendous pace.