A Damsel in Distress

A Damsel in Distress

A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS PELHAM GRENVILLE WODEHOUSE CHAPTER 1. Inasmuch as the scene of this story is that historic pile Belpher Castle in the county of Hampshire it would be an agreeable task to open it with a leisurely description of the place followed by some notes on the history of the Earls of Marshmoreton who have owned it since the fifteenth century. Unfortunately in these days of rush and hurry a novelist works at a disadvantage. He must leap into the middle of his tale with as little delay as he would employ in boarding a moving tramcar. He must get off the mark with the smooth swiftness of a jack-rabbit surprised while lunching. Otherwise people throw him aside and go out to picture palaces. I may briefly remark that the present Lord Marshmoreton is a widower of some forty-eight years: that he has two children--a son Percy Wilbraham Marsh Lord Belpher who is on the brink of his twenty-first birthday and a daughter Lady Patricia Maud Marsh who is just twenty: that the chatelaine of the castle is Lady Caroline Byng Lord Marshmoreton's sister who married the very wealthy colliery owner Clifford Byng a few years before his death (which unkind people say she hastened): and that she has a step-son Reginald. Give me time to mention these few facts and I am done. On the glorious past of the Marshmoretons I will not even touch. Luckily the loss to literature is not irreparable. Lord Marshmoreton himself is engaged upon a history of the family which will doubtless be on every bookshelf as soon as his lordship gets it finished. And as for the castle and its surroundings including the model dairy and the amber drawing-room you may see them for yourself any Thursday when Belpher is thrown open to the public on payment of a fee of one shilling a head. The money is collected by Keggs the butler and goes to a worthy local charity. At least that is the idea. But the voice of calumny is never silent and there exists a school of thought headed by Albert the page-boy which holds that Keggs sticks to these shillings like glue and adds them to his already considerable savings in the Farmers' and Merchants' Bank on the left side of the High Street in Belpher village next door to the Oddfellows' Hall. With regard to this one can only say that Keggs looks far too much like a particularly saintly bishop to indulge in any such practices. On the other hand Albert knows Keggs. We must leave the matter open. Of course appearances are deceptive. Anyone for instance who had been standing outside the front entrance of the castle at eleven o'clock on a certain June morning might easily have made a mistake. Such a person would probably have jumped to the conclusion that the middle-aged lady of a determined cast of countenance who was standing near the rose-garden talking to the gardener and watching the young couple strolling on the terrace below was the mother of the pretty girl and that she was smiling because the latter had recently become engaged to the tall pleasant-faced youth at her side. Sherlock Holmes himself might have been misled. One can hear him explaining the thing to Watson in one of those lightning flashes of inductive reasoning of his. "It is the only explanation my dear Watson. If the lady were merely complimenting the gardener on his rose-garden and if her smile were merely caused by the excellent appearance of that rose-garden there would be an answering smile on the face of the gardener. But as you see he looks morose and gloomy." As a matter of fact the gardener--that is to say the stocky brown-faced man in shirt sleeves and corduroy trousers who was frowning into a can of whale-oil solution--was the Earl of Marshmoreton and there were two reasons for his gloom. He hated to be interrupted while working and furthermore Lady Caroline Byng always got on his nerves and never more so than when as now she speculated on the possibility of a romance between her step-son Reggie and his lordship's daughter Maud. Only his intimates would have recognized in this curious corduroy-trousered figure the seventh Earl of Marshmoreton. The Lord Marshmoreton who made intermittent appearances in London who lunched among bishops at the Athenaeum Club without exciting remark was a correctly dressed gentleman whom no one would have suspected of covering his sturdy legs in anything but the finest cloth. But if you will glance at your copy of Who's Who and turn up the "M's" you will find in the space allotted to the Earl the words "Hobby--Gardening". To which in a burst of modest pride his lordship has added "Awarded first prize for Hybrid Teas Temple Flower Show 1911". The words tell their own story. Lord Marshmoreton was the most enthusiastic amateur gardener in a land of enthusiastic amateur gardeners. He lived for his garden. The love which other men expend on their nearest and dearest Lord Marshmoreton lavished on seeds roses and loamy soil. The hatred which some of his order feel for Socialists and Demagogues Lord Marshmoreton kept for roseslugs rose-beetles and the small yellowish-white insect which is so depraved and sinister a character that it goes through life with an alias--being sometimes called a rose-hopper and sometimes a thrips. A simple soul Lord Marshmoreton--mild and pleasant. Yet put him among the thrips and he became a dealer-out of death and slaughter a destroyer in the class of Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan. Thrips feed on the underside of rose leaves sucking their juice and causing them to turn yellow; and Lord Marshmoreton's views on these things were so rigid that he would have poured whale-oil solution on his grandmother if he had found her on the underside of one of his rose leaves sucking its juice. The only time in the day when he ceased to be the horny-handed toiler and became the aristocrat was in the evening after dinner when egged on by Lady Caroline who gave him no rest in the matter--he would retire to his private study and work on his History of the Family assisted by his able secretary Alice Faraday. His progress on that massive work was however slow. Ten hours in the open air made a man drowsy and too often Lord Marshmoreton would fall asleep in mid-sentence to the annoyance of Miss Faraday who was a conscientious girl and liked to earn her salary. The couple on the terrace had turned. Reggie Byng's face as he bent over Maud was earnest and animated and even from a distance it was possible to see how the girl's eyes lit up at what he was saying. She was hanging on his words. Lady Caroline's smile became more and more benevolent. "They make a charming pair" she murmured. "I wonder what dear Reggie is saying. Perhaps at this very moment--" She broke off with a sigh of content. She had had her troubles over this affair. Dear Reggie usually so plastic in her hands had displayed an unaccountable reluctance to offer his agreeable self to Maud--in spite of the fact that never not even on the public platform which she adorned so well had his step-mother reasoned more clearly than she did when pointing out to him the advantages of the match. It was not that Reggie disliked Maud. He admitted that she was a "topper" on several occasions going so far as to describe her as "absolutely priceless". But he seemed reluctant to ask her to marry him. How could Lady Caroline know that Reggie's entire world--or such of it as was not occupied by racing cars and golf--was filled by Alice Faraday? Reggie had never told her. He had not even told Miss Faraday. "Perhaps at this very moment" went on Lady Caroline "the dear boy is proposing to her." Lord Marshmoreton grunted and continued to peer with a questioning eye in the awesome brew which he had prepared for the thrips. "One thing is very satisfactory" said Lady Caroline. "I mean that Maud seems entirely to have got over that ridiculous infatuation of hers for that man she met in Wales last summer. She could not be so cheerful if she were still brooding on that. I hope you will admit now John that I was right in keeping her practically a prisoner here and never allowing her a chance of meeting the man again either by accident or design. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Stuff! A girl of Maud's age falls in and out of love half a dozen times a year. I feel sure she has almost forgotten the man by now." "Eh?" said Lord Marshmoreton. His mind had been far away dealing with green flies. "I was speaking about that man Maud met when she was staying with Brenda in Wales." "Oh yes!" "Oh yes!" echoed Lady Caroline annoyed. "Is that the only comment you can find to make? Your only daughter becomes infatuated with a perfect stranger--a man we have never seen--of whom we know nothing not even his name--nothing except that he is an American and hasn't a penny--Maud admitted that. And all you say is 'Oh yes'!" "But it's all over now isn't it? I understood the dashed affair was all over." "We hope so. But I should feel safer if Maud were engaged to Reggie. I do think you might take the trouble to speak to Maud." "Speak to her? I do speak to her." Lord Marshmoreton's brain moved slowly when he was pre-occupied with his roses. "We're on excellent terms." Lady Caroline frowned impatiently. Hers was an alert vigorous mind bright and strong like a steel trap and her brother's vagueness and growing habit of inattention irritated her. "I mean to speak to her about becoming engaged to Reggie. You are her father. Surely you can at least try to persuade her." "Can't coerce a girl." "I never suggested that you should coerce her as you put it. I merely meant that you could point out to her as a father where her duty and happiness lie." "Drink this!" cried his lordship with sudden fury spraying his can over the nearest bush and addressing his remark to the invisible thrips. He had forgotten Lady Caroline completely. "Don't stint yourselves! There's lots more!" A girl came down the steps of the castle and made her way towards them. She was a good-looking girl with an air of quiet efficiency about her. Her eyes were grey and whimsical. Her head was uncovered and the breeze stirred her dark hair. She made a graceful picture in the morning sunshine and Reggie Byng sighting her from the terrace wobbled in his tracks turned pink and lost the thread of his remarks. The sudden appearance of Alice Faraday always affected him like that. "I have copied out the notes you made last night Lord Marshmoreton. I typed two copies." Alice Faraday spoke in a quiet respectful yet subtly authoritative voice. She was a girl of great character. Previous employers of her services as secretary had found her a jewel. To Lord Marshmoreton she was rapidly becoming a perfect incubus. Their views on the relative importance of gardening and family histories did not coincide. To him the history of the Marshmoreton family was the occupation of the idle hour: she seemed to think that he ought to regard it as a life-work. She was always coming and digging him out of the garden and dragging him back to what should have been a purely after-dinner task. It was Lord Marshmoreton's habit when he awoke after one of his naps too late to resume work to throw out some vague promise of "attending to it tomorrow"; but he reflected bitterly the girl ought to have tact and sense to understand that this was only polite persiflage and not to be taken literally. "They are very rough" continued Alice addressing her conversation to the seat of his lordship's corduroy trousers. Lord Marshmoreton always assumed a stooping attitude when he saw Miss Faraday approaching with papers in her hand; for he laboured under a pathetic delusion of which no amount of failures could rid him that if she did not see his face she would withdraw. "You remember last night you promised you would attend to them this morning." She paused long enough to receive a non-committal grunt by way of answer. "Of course if you're busy--" she said placidly with a half-glance at Lady Caroline. That masterful woman could always be counted on as an ally in these little encounters. "Nothing of the kind!" said Lady Caroline crisply. She was still ruffled by the lack of attention which her recent utterances had received and welcomed the chance of administering discipline. "Get up at once John and go in and work." "I am working" pleaded Lord Marshmoreton. Despite his forty-eight years his sister Caroline still had the power at times to make him feel like a small boy. She had been a great martinet in the days of their mutual nursery. "The Family History is more important than grubbing about in the dirt. I cannot understand why you do not leave this sort of thing to MacPherson. Why you should pay him liberal wages and then do his work for him I cannot see. You know the publishers are waiting for the History. Go and attend to these notes at once." "You promised you would attend to them this morning Lord Marshmoreton" said Alice invitingly. Lord Marshmoreton clung to his can of whale-oil solution with the clutch of a drowning man. None knew better than he that these interviews especially when Caroline was present to lend the weight of her dominating personality always ended in the same way. "Yes yes yes!" he said. "Tonight perhaps. After dinner eh? Yes after dinner. That will be capital." "I think you ought to attend to them this morning" said Alice gently persistent. It really perturbed this girl to feel that she was not doing work enough to merit her generous salary. And on the subject of the history of the Marshmoreton family she was an enthusiast. It had a glamour for her. Lord Marshmoreton's fingers relaxed their hold. Throughout the rose-garden hundreds of spared thrips went on with their morning meal unwitting of doom averted. "Oh all right all right all right! Come into the library." "Very well Lord Marshmoreton." Miss Faraday turned to Lady Caroline. "I have been looking up the trains Lady Caroline. The best is the twelve-fifteen. It has a dining-car and stops at Belpher if signalled." "Are you going away Caroline?" inquired Lord Marshmoreton hopefully. "I am giving a short talk to the Social Progress League at Lewisham. I shall return tomorrow." "Oh!" said Marshmoreton hope fading from his voice. "Thank you Miss Faraday" said Lady Caroline. "The twelve-fifteen." "The motor will be round at a quarter to twelve." "Thank you. Oh by the way Miss Faraday will you call to Reggie as you pass and tell him I wish to speak to him." Maud had left Reggie by the time Alice Faraday reached him and that ardent youth was sitting on a stone seat smoking a cigarette and entertaining himself with meditations in which thoughts of Alice competed for precedence with graver reflections connected with the subject of the correct stance for his approach-shots. Reggie's was a troubled spirit these days. He was in love and he had developed a bad slice with his mid-iron. He was practically a soul in torment. "Lady Caroline asked me to tell you that she wishes to speak to you Mr. Byng." Reggie leaped from his seat. "Hullo-ullo-ullo! There you are! I mean to say what?" He was conscious as was his custom in her presence of a warm prickly sensation in the small of the back. Some kind of elephantiasis seemed to have attacked his hands and feet swelling them to enormous proportions. He wished profoundly that he could get rid of his habit of yelping with nervous laughter whenever he encountered the girl of his dreams. It was calculated to give her a wrong impression of a chap--make her think him a fearful chump and what not! "Lady Caroline is leaving by the twelve-fifteen." "That's good! What I mean to say is--oh she is is she? I see what you mean." The absolute necessity of saying something at least moderately coherent gripped him. He rallied his forces. "You wouldn't care to come for a stroll after I've seen the mater or a row on the lake or any rot like that would you?" "Thank you very much but I must go in and help Lord Marshmoreton with his book." "What a rotten--I mean what a dam' shame!" The pity of it tore at Reggie's heart strings. He burned with generous wrath against Lord Marshmoreton that modern Simon Legree who used his capitalistic power to make a slave of this girl and keep her toiling indoors when all the world was sunshine. "Shall I go and ask him if you can't put it off till after dinner?" "Oh no thanks very much. I'm sure Lord Marshmoreton wouldn't dream of it." She passed on with a pleasant smile. When he had recovered from the effect of this Reggie proceeded slowly to the upper level to meet his step-mother. "Hullo mater. Pretty fit and so forth? What did you want to see me about?" "Well Reggie what is the news?" "Eh? What? News? Didn't you get hold of a paper at breakfast? Nothing much in it. Tam Duggan beat Alec Fraser three up and two to play at Prestwick. I didn't notice anything else much. There's a new musical comedy at the Regal. Opened last night and seems to be just like mother makes. The Morning Post gave it a topping notice. I must trickle up to town and see it some time this week." Lady Caroline frowned. This slowness in the uptake coming so soon after her brother's inattention displeased her. "No no no. I mean you and Maud have been talking to each other for quite a long time and she seemed very interested in what you were saying. I hoped you might have some good news for me." Reggie's face brightened. He caught her drift. "Oh ah yes I see what you mean. No there wasn't anything of that sort or shape or order." "What were you saying to her then that interested her so much?" "I was explaining how I landed dead on the pin with my spoon out of a sand-trap at the eleventh hole yesterday. It certainly was a pretty ripe shot considering. I'd sliced into this baby bunker don't you know; I simply can't keep 'em straight with the iron nowadays--and there the pill was grinning up at me from the sand. Of course strictly speaking I ought to have used a niblick but-- "Do you mean to say Reggie that with such an excellent opportunity you did not ask Maud to marry you?" "I see what you mean. Well as a matter of absolute fact I as it were didn't." Lady Caroline uttered a wordless sound. "By the way mater" said Reggie "I forgot to tell you about that. It's all off." "What!" "Absolutely. You see it appears there's a chappie unknown for whom Maud has an absolute pash. It seems she met this sportsman up in Wales last summer. She was caught in the rain and he happened to be passing and rallied round with his rain-coat and one thing led to another. Always raining in Wales what! Good fishing though here and there. Well what I mean is this cove was so deucedly civil and all that that now she won't look at anybody else. He's the blue-eyed boy and everybody else is an also-ran with about as much chance as a blind man with one arm trying to get out of a bunker with a tooth-pick." "What perfect nonsense! I know all about that affair. It was just a passing fancy that never meant anything. Maud has got over that long ago." "She didn't seem to think so." "Now Reggie" said Lady Caroline tensely "please listen to me. You know that the castle will be full of people in a day or two for Percy's coming-of-age and this next few days may be your last chance of having a real long private talk with Maud. I shall be seriously annoyed if you neglect this opportunity. There is no excuse for the way you are behaving. Maud is a charming girl--" "Oh absolutely! One of the best." "Very well then!" "But mater what I mean to say is--" "I don't want any more temporizing Reggie!" ...