The Buccaneer Farmer - Harold Bindloss
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Kit knitted his brows as he mused, because there was not much to indicate
whether he would find Grace willing or not. She liked him well enough,
but he had not ventured to pose as her lover. He was too proud and
jealous for her; knowing what Osborn thought, he would not involve her in
a secret intrigue. Yet she had been kind and he had now and then got a
hint of an elusive tenderness. Moreover, in her distress, she had come to
him. She was proud and he thought would not have asked his help unless
she was willing to give something in return.
After a time he got up with a quick, resolute movement. He would soon
know if he had set his hopes too high, and would gain nothing by
indulging his doubts. Crossing a field where the binders were at work, he
went up the Tarnside drive with a firm step and saw Osborn and Mrs.
Osborn sitting under the copper-beech. It looked as if they were waiting
for him, and he braced himself as he advanced. Mrs. Osborn smiled as she
gave him her hand and Osborn indicated a box of cigarettes.
"Sit down. Mrs. Osborn will give you some tea presently," he said, with
an effort for hospitable politeness, because he could not yet resign
himself to the demand his wife expected Kit would make. "You have been
to town on business," he resumed, feeling that silence would be awkward.
"I hope you found things satisfactory."
"I did," said Kit, who was glad that Osborn had, no doubt unconsciously,
given him a lead. He had gone to visit the agents of his American
bankers, and had learned that Adam's estate had turned out to be worth
more than he had thought. "It was a relief, because it helps me to get
over some of the hesitation I felt," he resumed. "I want your permission
to ask Miss Osborn if she will marry me."
Osborn tried to hide his disturbed feelings and answered with forced
quietness: "My wife warned me that I might expect something like this,
but I must own that I find agreement hard. However, after the help you
have given us, it is plain that I must try to overcome my reluctance."
"That is all I ask in the meantime," said Kit. "I don't expect you to
influence Miss Osborn. In fact, she must understand that I have no claim
and feel herself free to refuse."
"You are generous," Mrs. Osborn remarked. "Of course, it is obvious that
her gratitude must count for much."
"I don't want her gratitude to count," Kit declared, and Osborn gave him
a puzzled glance.
"There is something else that must be said. Grace has been indulged and
knows nothing of self-denial. Frugality that you think proper and usual
would be hardship to her. Can you give your wife the comforts and
refinements she has had at home?"
Kit noted Mrs. Osborn's faint smile and wondered whether it hinted at
ironical amusement, but he put a document on the table.
"You are entitled to ask and I have brought a short draught of the
arrangements I am ready to make if I am fortunate enough to win your
daughter."
Osborn picked up the paper and gave it to his wife. Then he looked at
Kit with surprise.
"This alters things; you are almost a rich man! If you wanted, you could
buy a house like Tarnside."
"No," said Kit firmly; "it alters nothing and leaves me where I was. I'm
satisfied with Ashness."
"Ah," said Osborn. "You mean you would sooner be a working farmer than a
country gentleman? The preference is somewhat remarkable!"
"I know where I belong. The important thing is that if Miss Osborn
marries me, she will be a farmer's wife."
"Exactly," said Osborn. "From my point of view, it's an awkward drawback.
I doubt if my daughter is suited for the part." He looked at Mrs. Osborn
and resumed: "But this is a matter Grace must decide about and you
insisted that no pressure should be used. I imagine you were afraid of my
influence and do not know if I am afraid of yours or not. If you agree, I
will send for her."
Kit said he was willing and was silent when Osborn went away. Although he
imagined Mrs. Osborn was sympathetic, he could not force himself to talk.
Since he had insisted that persuasion must not be used, he could not
demand to meet Grace alone and she might find it hard to accept his plans
without some explanation, which would be awkward to give when her parents
were there. He could, if he wanted, change his mode of life, but if they
were to be happy, she must be removed from influences he thought
dangerous and he must use his energy in useful work. He saw this very
clearly; but whether Grace would see it was another thing.
He felt some strain while he waited and watched the trembling
shadows move upon the grass. The rays of light that pierced the dark
foliage flickered about Mrs. Osborn's dress and when he glanced at
her he thought her look encouraging, but she did not speak. By and
by Osborn returned and said Grace was coming, and Kit found the
suspense hard to bear.
At length she came and his heart beat as he watched her cross the lawn.
She wore a plain white dress and when she stopped in front of the others
her face was pale but calm.
"Mr. Askew has asked my permission to marry you and I cannot refuse if
you agree," Osborn said in a formal tone. "He stipulates that I must not
persuade you one way or the other, and declares that he does not want to
work upon your gratitude."
Some color came into Grace's face as she looked at Kit. "Then, you don't
value my gratitude?"
"I value it very much," Kit replied with forced quietness. "But I feel it
ought not to count."
He stopped awkwardly, for he noted a sparkle in Grace's eyes and felt
that he was badly handicapped. She was proud and probably did not
understand his disinterested attitude. It was a relief when Mrs. Osborn
interposed:
"Mr. Askew is trying to be just. We have agreed that you are not to be
influenced."
"Ah," said Grace, "I think I see--"
She waited and Osborn went on: "Since you are to make a free choice, I
must state things as plainly as I can. Mr. Askew is not poor; he is able
to give you all we think you ought to have. In fact, there is no very
obvious reason he should not leave Ashness, but he does not mean to do
so, and although I cannot follow his argument, imagines that it would be
better for you both if he carries on his farming. It looks as if he did
not approve our rule."
Kit frowned, and colored when Grace turned to him. On the whole,
Osborn had not stated things incorrectly, but the situation was
embarrassing; Grace would, no doubt, resent the stipulation he felt
forced to make and expect a more lover-like attitude from the man who
asked her to be his wife.
"Grace," he said appealingly, "I'm afraid you don't understand. But when
you must give up so much I durst not hide the drawbacks. Besides, it's
agreed that I must not urge you."
She studied him for a moment. "I do understand," she said, and then
turned to Osborn. "I suppose you are trying to guard me, but I am not
afraid. One gets tired of pretense and secret economy, and forced
idleness has not much charm. Well, if Mr. Askew, knowing what he knows
about us, is willing to run the risk--"
"Grace!" said Kit, moving forward, but she stopped him with a
proud gesture.
"There is a risk. I think we shall both need courage, but if you are
willing I need not hesitate. I will try to make a good farmer's wife."
She turned and went away, and the blood came into Kit's face as he looked
at Osborn.
"I have played fair, but it was hard. Now you have heard her answer, I'm
at liberty to plead my cause."
Osborn said nothing, but his wife gave Kit a friendly smile and he
went off with a resolute step in pursuit of Grace. He came up with
her in a shrubbery, but it looked as if she did not hear him, for her
head was bent.
"Grace," he said, putting his hand on her arm. "I'm embarrassed and, in a
way, ashamed."
She turned and confronted him with her wonted calm. "I don't see why you
are ashamed. You were just--I think I mean quite impartial. You wanted me
to weigh things and would have been resigned if I had found the drawbacks
too much."
"It wasn't as easy as you think," said Kit grimly. "In fact, I was
burning with anger and suspense. But, you see, I had promised your
father--"
"Yes," said Grace; "that was plain. You were firm when you thought I
might be forced to marry Thorn, and when father agreed not to use his
influence, I suppose you could not use yours. Well, I'm glad you were
angry; it was human, and your scrupulous fairness was not flattering."
She paused and, to Kit's relief, gave him a smile. "After all, it would
not have hurt to be urged to marry the man I did like."
"You mean me?" said Kit and boldly took her in his arms.
She drew back from him, blushing, after a few moments, but Kit was
content. There was something fascinatingly elusive about Grace and he
could wait. They went on quietly down the path until they came to a bench
in a shady nook. Kit leaned against a tree and Grace sat down.
"Kit," she said, "I didn't know you were rich. It really doesn't matter,
but I'm glad I fell in love with you when I didn't know."
"Then, you were in love with me?"
She smiled. "Of course! I must have been, when I came to you because I
was afraid of Thorn. Love gave me confidence; I knew you would help. In
a way, I did an extravagant thing, because you were not really like a
lover at all."
"The control I used often hurt," said Kit. "I was afraid I might alarm
and lose you; it was much to see you now and then." He paused, feeling
there was something to be said that must be said now. "However, about
Ashness--"
"Oh," said Grace, "I suppose it cost you an effort to be firm and I
hope it did. You needn't be afraid, though. When my father told me,
I understood, and it won't hurt to leave Tarnside; I'm anxious to
get away."
"My dear!" said Kit. "Ashness has some charm and we will try to make it a
proper home for you."
"It is a home; I sometimes went to see your father--I liked him so much,
Kit. One feels the old house has sheltered sincere men and women who
loved each other and something they left haunts the quiet spot. I don't
want you to alter it much."
"You shall alter it as you like. The only rule at Ashness will be what
pleases you."
"Now you're very nice! I'm going to be happy because I can be myself. So
far, I've been forced to be reserved. You don't really know me, Kit."
"Perhaps that's true," Kit remarked. "You're wonderful, because there's
always some fresh charm to learn. I thought I knew you before I went
away, but when I came back I saw how foolish I was. I wonder whether you
knew I loved you then?"
Grace blushed. "I think I knew, and felt cheated."
"Why did you feel cheated?"
"Oh," said Grace, "I liked you! I was young and felt I was entitled to
love a man who loved me, if I wanted, but couldn't use my right. Then,
not long since, when you were so grave and just, I felt I had been
cheated worse."
"I see," said Kit and came nearer the bench. "I was cheated, too. But
look at me, dear, and I'll try to tell you all I think."
He told her with fire and passion and when he stopped, bending down to
her, she put her arm round his neck.
"Now you're ridiculously romantic, but you're very charming, Kit," she
said.
CHAPTER XI
OSBORN'S SURRENDER
By degrees Osborn accepted his daughter's choice philosophically. Kit was
not the son-in-law he had wanted, but he was forced to admit that the
fellow jarred less than he had thought. For one thing, he never reminded
Osborn of the benefit he had conferred, and the latter noted that his
country-house neighbors opened their doors to him. They could not, of
course, altogether ignore the man Grace had promised to marry, but Osborn
soon had grounds for imagining that they liked Kit for himself. The
wedding had been fixed and Osborn, although not satisfied, was resigned.
In the meantime, it began to look as if the gloom that had long ruled at
Tarnside was banished. Mrs. Osborn's reserve was less marked, she smiled,
and her step was lighter. Grace, too, had changed, and developed. She had
often been impatient but now was marked by a happy calm. Osborn found her
gentler and sometimes strangely compliant, although he felt he must make
no rash demands. The girl indulged him, but she could be firm. Her new
serenity had a charm. Moreover, Gerald wrote cheerful letters and
declared that he was making better progress than would have been possible
for him at home.
Osborn had seldom thought much about the happiness of his family, but he
felt a dull satisfaction because things were going well with the others.
It was a set-off against his troubles, which were getting worse. The
improvements his tenants and Hayes had forced him to make cost more than
he calculated and he met stubborn resistance when he talked about putting
up the rents. The money he had got by the last mortgage had gone; he
could not borrow more, and his creditors demanded payment of his debts.
He put off the reckoning, however, until, one day when he drove to the
market town to consult his agent, he got a rude jar.
In the first place, Hayes kept him waiting in a cold room, and he stood
for a time by the window, looking out drearily at the old-fashioned
square. The day was bleak and wet, and the high moors that shut in the
little town loomed, blurred and forbidding, through drifting mist. The
square was empty, the fronts of the tall old houses were dark with rain,
and the drops from a clump of bare trees fell in a steady shower on the
grass behind the iron rails. The gloom reacted upon Osborn's disturbed
mood, and he frowned when Hayes came in.
"I sent you word that I would call," he said.
"You did," Hayes agreed. "I was occupied when my clerk told me you
were here."
Osborn looked at him with some surprise. Hayes was very cool and not
apologetic. "Well," he said, "you know what I want to talk about. I
suppose you have seen Forsyth and Langdon about the renewal of their
leases?"
"Yes. Both state they'll go sooner than pay you extra rent."
"Then they must go," Osborn rejoined, trying to hide his disappointment,
since he had spent some money on the steadings in the hope of raising the
rent. Now he came to think of it, Hayes had held this out as an
inducement when he urged the expenditure. "It looks as if your judgment
wasn't very good, but by comparison with other things the matter's not
important," he resumed. "You know the sum I'll need between now and the
end of the term?"
"I do know. In fact, I imagine you will need more than you suspect,"
Hayes rejoined. "You'll find it impossible to borrow the money on
satisfactory terms."
Osborn looked hard at him. The fellow's manner was rather abrupt than
sympathetic; but Hayes went on: "Before we advertise for new tenants,
there is something I want to suggest. Although the farms are mortgaged, I
might be able to find a buyer--at a price."
"No," said Osborn firmly. "The buyer would have to undertake the debt and
the sum he would be willing to pay would not last me long. When it was
spent I'd have practically nothing left."
"The situation's awkward; but there it is! Of course, if you were able to
carry on until your rents come in--"
"You know I can't carry on. I came to you, hoping you might suggest a
workable plan. Who is the buyer?"
"I am," said Hayes.
Osborn's face got red and he struggled for self-control. The fellow
was his servant, but it looked as if he had cunningly involved him in
entanglements an honest agent would have avoided. Osborn remembered
that he had sometimes vaguely suspected Hayes. Now he knew him, it
was too late.
"I may be forced to sell, but not to you," he said haughtily.
Hayes shrugged. "That must be as you like, but I'm able to give you a
better price than anybody else. I have an object for buying the farms
and, if necessary, would pay something near their proper value, without
taking off much for the debt. Anyhow, you had better look at this
statement of your liabilities."
Osborn studied the document with a hopeless feeling. Things were worse
than he had feared and it cost him an effort to pull himself together
when he looked up.
"Why do you want to buy?" he asked.
"Well, you see, the land between Forsyth's and the dale-head is heavily
mortgaged, and, taking the two farms with the others, would make a
compact block that could be economically worked. The new estate would run
down to Tarnside, and since you may find it needful to sell the house, I
might make you an offer."
"But the consolidation wouldn't help _you_," Osborn remarked with
a puzzled look. "It would, perhaps, be an advantage for the mortgage
holders."
"I hold the mortgages," Hayes said quietly.
Osborn started. "But," he stammered, "I got the money from somebody
else."
"That is so. I bought the other debts, and supplied the funds when you
raised new loans."
"You bought the debts with my money!" Osborn exclaimed. "You used your
post to rob me of my estate!"
"I suppose one must make allowances, but you are unjust. You got the
proper value for the land you pawned, and squandered the money. The
consequence was inevitable and it's futile to complain. For that
matter, it is not altogether unusual for a landlord and his steward to
change places."
"I trusted you and you cheated me," Osborn resumed with poignant
bitterness.
"You lived in false security and refused to think. You knew the reckoning
must come, but were satisfied if you could put it off. Now you must bear
the consequences, it is not my fault. However, this is not important.
Will you sell?"
"No," said Osborn hoarsely. "I will not sell to _you_."
Hayes smiled. "You must sell to somebody and will not get as good a
price."
Osborn got up and went out with a dragging step. The blow had left him
numb, but as he drove home in the rain he had a hazy notion that Hayes'
statements were to some extent justified. He had lived in false security;
seeing how things were going and yet refusing to believe. Somehow, it had
looked impossible for him to lose Tarnside. The estate was his by the
sacred right of inheritance; for a hundred years there had been an Osborn
at the Hall. Yet the estate had gone, and he was to blame. It had, so to
speak, melted in his careless hands. He felt old and broken when he told
his wife and daughter about the interview.
Mrs. Osborn did not look as much surprised as he had thought and Grace,
although sympathetic, was calm. They had known the blow was coming and
were ready for the shock. After a time, Osborn left them and Grace looked
at her mother.
"I must tell Kit."
"Yes," said Mrs. Osborn. "I think he ought to know, though this is not a
matter in which he can help."
"It looks like that," Grace agreed and then paused with a confident
smile. "But Kit's rather wonderful; you don't really know him yet. He
always finds a way when there is something hard to be done."
"Ah," said Mrs. Osborn, "there is comfort in our troubles since they have
given you a man you can trust."
Grace went to Ashness and found Kit studying some accounts in the room
she called his museum.
"Put the books away, come to the fire and talk to me," said Grace, and
stopped him when he moved a chair. "I think I'll take the low stool. It's
wretchedly cold and I really came to be comforted."
She sat down, leaning against his chair with her head turned so that she
could look up, and held her hands to the fire. Kit's heart beat, for
Grace had developed recently; her reserve had gone and a curious, frank
tenderness had come instead.
"This is very nice," she resumed. "There's something very homelike about
Ashness. Perhaps I'm romantic, but I sometimes feel as if your father was
still at the old house. It's kind and quiet--like him. Don't you think
people can leave an influence, Kit?"
"Yours will last. So far, I haven't had much quietness."
"I'm afraid I've come to bother you again. I hate to bother you, but
somehow trouble seems to follow me."
"Your troubles are mine," Kit said and stroked her head. "Tell me
about it."
Grace told him, and although he said nothing, waited calmly. His face was
thoughtful but the silence was not awkward; she felt that it was marked
by an intimate confidence.
"Kit," she resumed at length, "I don't know if you can help, or if you
ought. You must decide, dear. I just wanted to tell you, and I'm
comforted."
"I can help," Kit answered quietly. "People abroad have paid some debts I
didn't expect to get and I'm richer than I thought." He paused and mused
for a moment or two. "It's strange the thing should happen now. When I
came home I imagined Ashness would occupy all my time, but I soon began
to feel I hadn't scope enough. You see, I'd been with Adam and he was a
hustler. Well, it looks as if I had found a new field."
"You mean you might buy Tarnside?"
"Yes. I think the estate might be made to pay. High farming's a risky
business in our climate and we have been satisfied to spend little and
get a small return. I think there's a better plan than that; if one uses
modern methods and can invest the capital. However, I see an obstacle to
my buying Tarnside."
"Father?" Grace suggested. "Well, I'm afraid he would never be economical
and he likes to rule. But I didn't mean, Kit, that you should give him
money to squander."
"I know," said Kit gently, although his face was rather stern. "Adam's
legacy must not be wasted in extravagance. Then, you see, Tarnside ought
to have been Gerald's; but he's ruled out--"
Grace looked up. "Yes, Kit. Now you have given him a fresh start, he may
make a useful man, but Tarnside is not for him." She paused and blushed,
but her glance was steady as she went on: "It must be ours, if you buy
it, for us to hold in trust--"
She turned her head and Kit quietly touched her hair. They were silent
for a few moments and then he said, "If the estate is to be properly
managed, my part will need much tact and I'm impatient now and then. But,
we would live at Ashness and your mother would understand my
difficulties."
"She would help. Father's old, Kit, and might be indulged. You would try
not to hurt him, and could consult him about things that didn't matter. I
think he'd be satisfied if you let him imagine he had some control."
Kit smiled. "Very well; we will make the plunge. Tell your father to do
nothing until Hayes moves. The fellow's cunning and it might be better if
he didn't know what we mean to do."
He bent down and kissed her and she pressed her face against his hand.
"Kit, you're wonderful. Things get done when you come on the scene, but
perhaps you're nicest when they're done for me. After all, I am an Osborn
and would have hated to let Tarnside go; let's plan what we can do when
it belongs to us."
For a time they engaged in happy talk, but Kit reopened his account books
when Grace went home. It looked as if he were about to make a rash
plunge, because he would not have much money left when he had carried out
his plans. However, he could guard against the worst risks and on the
whole imagined the venture ought to pay.
Some weeks later, Osborn sent for him and on reaching Tarnside he was
shown into the library. Mrs. Osborn was with her husband and there was a
bundle of papers on the big table.
"I have got the particulars you wanted," Osborn said. "Hayes will arrive
in half an hour, but that should give us time enough."
Kit nodded. "Yes, I want a few minutes."
When he had studied the documents he looked up. Tarnside would soon be
his and he glanced about the library with a new curiosity. Although the
day was dark and rain beat upon the high windows, the light was strong
enough to show the fine modeling of the old and shabby furniture. It was
a noble room and with well used money could be given a touch of
stateliness; but there was something cold and austere about Tarnside,
while Ashness was homelike and warm. His short survey strengthened Kit's
half-conscious feeling that he belonged to the farm and not the Hall.
"Two things are obvious," he remarked. "The mortgages must be wiped off;
and when other debts have been paid, the rents of the land I'm willing to
redeem ought to keep you going, if they're economically used."
"I doubt it," Osborn rejoined. "So far, the rent of the whole estate have
failed to do so."
"They will do so now," Kit said rather dryly, "That is, if I'm to free
the land. But you must decide if you will help or not."
He looked at Mrs. Osborn, who made a sign of agreement "There will be
enough, Kit. Indeed, in some ways, we shall be better off than we were."
"You have pluck," said Kit, and turned to Osborn, knowing he must be
firm. "The house and grounds will be yours to use as you like and the
farmers will bring their complaints and requests first to you. You will
be the acknowledged landlord and I shall be glad of your advice; but the
expenditure will be controlled by me."
Osborn did not reply, but Mrs. Osborn said, "It is a generous offer."
Kit waited, conscious of some suspense, for he doubted if Osborn's pride
was quite humbled yet. He did not want to humble him, but, for the sake
of Grace and her mother, did not mean to let him wreck his plans. After a
few moments Osborn looked up.