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Pixie O'Shaughnessy

<h3>Chapter Nineteen.</h3> <h4>Pat’s Taunt.</h4> When the gong sounded that night two white-robed figures stole out of Mademoiselle’s room, and crept quietly along the gallery. Pat was arrayed as a knight of old, wearing a pair of Esmeralda’s old white stockings, surmounted by loose linen trunks, the rest of the sheet being ingeniously swathed round his body, and kept in place by such an elaborate cris-crossing of tape as gave the effect of a slashed doublet. A thickly pleated cloak, (made out of sheet number two), hung over his shoulders, and the pillow-case was drawn into a cap, which was placed jauntily on the side of his head. As handsome a young knight as one could wish to see was Mr Patrick O’Shaughnessy, and the manner in which he held Mademoiselle’s hand, and led her down the great staircase, evoked thunders of applause from the watchers beneath. Mademoiselle herself looked worthy of her squire, for her dark, animated face stood the test of the unrelieved whiteness so successfully, that she was all ablush with delight at the discovery that she was not an old woman after all, but on occasion could still look as girlish as she felt. She was attired as a Normandy peasant, with turned-back skirt and loose white bodice; but the feature of the costume was undoubtedly the cap, which looked so extraordinarily like the real article that the sceptical refused to believe in its pillow-case origin, until the buttonholes were exhibited in evidence. “It is wonderful—wonderful! But how have you made it so stiff and crinkly?” the Major inquired curiously; and Mademoiselle laughed in gleeful triumph. “I ’ave curled it with the curling tongs—not perhaps curl, but what the washerwoman would say—‘goffer,’ and for the rest, can you not see the wire? It is a piece I have taken upstairs after the decorations, and it is stitched in to keep the folds in place; but I must keep my ’ead still, for it is not too strong. You are very fine too, sir. You are, I suppose, some old patrician?” “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!” declaimed the Major, throwing his arms about with impassioned gestures. His white toga fell in graceful folds round his tall figure; his arms were bared to the elbows; he wore a twisted turban, which was impressive, if not exactly appropriate; and it was really an imposing spectacle to behold him strutting up and down the hall, with a great display of sandalled feet, of which he was evidently immensely proud. Bridgie sat demurely on a high-backed chair, a sweet-faced nun, with her golden hair hidden from sight, and her dark-lashed eyes looking lovelier than ever when contrasted with the white bands across her forehead. She had been so busy dressing others that she had had no time to plan anything more elaborate for herself; but if she had worked for days she could not have hit on a costume more becoming to her style of beauty. It was scarcely in character, however, to shriek aloud with laughter, as she did a moment later, as Mark Antony was suddenly arrested on his march by an apparition which leapt forward from behind a screen, and advanced upon him to an accompaniment of unearthly groanings. Miles as a ghost was certainly an eerie figure; for by means of a stick strapped to his back the sheet was raised to an abnormal altitude, while a couple of tennis rackets held in either hand made extended wings with which to swoop about, and raise warning signals to the onlookers. He chased Mark Antony until that classic gentleman threatened fight with a poker; when he amused himself by groaning vigorously at Pixie, who had been attired as a “Lady in Waiting”—not, it must be confessed, with any striking success; and who was somewhat ruffled in her temper through constant trippings over her train. “Ye stupid thing!” she cried crossly. “Be over hooting at me! If you are a bogie, you can go and haunt by yourself, and not molest your betters! It’s the worst dress of the lot. Nothing but three sticks and the sheets in knots. You had better rest yourself a bit, and groan while we are at dinner, for your head is covered up that tight that you’ll never be able to eat!” “Trust me!” cried Miles, and somewhere about the middle of the ghost the white folds parted, and out peered a crimson face with twinkling eyes, and a mat of damp curls falling over the forehead. “You don’t catch me taking any part which interfered with eating! Contrariwise—I’m best off of you all, for I have just to drop my sticks, and—there I am! The sheet falls down, and I eat my dinner in comfort, instead of being stewed alive, as you will be before it’s half over.” “That’s true for you! I feel as if I had mumps already!” sighed the nun sadly; but the next moment she gave a cry of delight, and pointed eagerly across the hall. “Esmeralda! Oh, look! look!” There had been so much to see and admire that the absence of the second daughter of the house had not been noticed; but even as Bridgie spoke each one realised that her late arrival was just what might have been expected. The beautiful Miss O’Shaughnessy had preferred to be sure of her audience before appearing upon the stage; for, to judge by the continuous rumble of the sewing-machine which had sounded from her room, she had bestowed no little pains upon her costume. Great expectations are apt to be disappointed; but in this instance it is safe to say that the reality exceeded the wildest dreams, for it was almost impossible to believe that this charming figure owed her attire to no more promising materials than ordinary bed-linen! Esmeralda had aimed at nothing less ambitious than a Watteau costume, and the rumbling of the machine was accounted for by one glance at the elaborately quilted petticoat. She had folded a blanket between the double sheet, so as to give the effect of wadding, and an ancient crinoline held out the folds with old-world effect. For the rest she wore the orthodox panniers on the hips, and a bodice swathed as artistically as might be, round the beautiful bare neck and arms. Her hair was dressed high and powdered, and the pillow-case was drawn into the shape of a hood which dangled lightly over her arm. Half-way down the staircase she came to a stand, and stood sunning herself in the applause of the beholders, then came slowly forward, and, standing in the middle of the floor, revolved slowly round and round, so as to display every feature of her costume. It was certainly a marvel of ingenuity, and amidst the general chorus of praise, Mademoiselle could not refrain from improving the occasion by remarking that such a good needlewoman should have no difficulty in turning dressmaker for her own and her sisters’ benefit. The reply to this insinuation was a threatening grimace, and Esmeralda made haste to draw her father’s attention to another topic. “Aren’t you proud of me now, father dear, and cut to the heart to think that no one will see me but yourself? Sure it’s a crime to waste all this splendour on the desert air!”—and she rolled her eyes at him with a languishing glance, and smiled so bewitchingly, that the Major rubbed his hands in delight, and fell unhesitatingly into the snare. “Faith, and you’re right! It’s a perfect crime. We should have asked some of the neighbours to see you. Bridgie, why did you not think of that, now? We might have had a pleasant little party to amuse your friend, instead of taking all this trouble for nothing!” “Not on two days’ invitation, father, and besides, Jack is not here yet. While he is at home, perhaps—” “Yes, father, on New Year’s Eve! Give us leave to ask some people on New Year’s Eve, and we will plan such a wonderful programme as will be the talk for miles around. I’m brimful of ideas, and we have not had any sort of entertainment for two years now. Say we may ask them, won’t you, dear?” But at this the Major began to look uneasy, for it was one thing to find fault with Bridgie for not having given an invitation in the past, and quite another to be asked to sanction a fresh one in the future. “Who will you be wanting to ask?” he queried anxiously. “Never did I meet such an exacting child! My mouth’s no sooner opened than you are ready to jump inside! ‘A wonderful programme,’ says she. And who’s to pay for it, may I ask? You would ruin me between you, you children, if I hadn’t saved you the trouble long ago. How much will this entertainment be costing me now?” “Oh, twopence halfpenny! Not more than that. We will kill the old turkey, that is so tough that he is fairly pleading to be killed, and use up the dessert from Christmas, and Mademoiselle shall make us some of her fine French dishes, and there will be so much going on that there will be very little time to eat. Make your mind easy, and trust to me.” “I’ll see you through!” cried Esmeralda grandly; whereupon the Major shrugged his shoulders, and reflected cheerfully that a few pounds more or less made little difference. Let the girl have her way! she had been kept too long in seclusion as it was, and what was the use of possessing the most beautiful daughter in the county if you could not show her off to your friends once in a while? Silence was rightly interpreted as consent, and having gained her point, Esmeralda was wreathed in smiles and amiability for the rest of the evening. The Major dispensed with his toga at an early hour, and Nun and Ghost alike shed their wrappings and appeared in ordinary evening dress; but Esmeralda was too complacently conscious of looking her best to make any change in her attire. Dinner passed hilariously enough, and then, the rain having ceased, the Major put on his coat and went out for a walk in the grounds, while the ladies retired to their snuggery upstairs and made themselves comfortable round the fire. To them entered presently Master Pat, white knight no longer, but an ordinary shabby stripling with pensive eyes and an innocent expression. He sat himself down in leisurely fashion, and gazed at his second sister with melancholy interest, as one far removed from youthful follies and grieved to behold them in those he held dear. “You are the only one who has kept on her dress! I suppose you don’t mind what you suffer, so long as you make an appearance! It’s a pity, as you said, that there is no one to admire you, but if you would like to meet a stranger, why don’t you go for a walk down the left wing and back by the hall? The moonlight is shining in at the windows, and you know the old saying that if you walk by yourself in the moonlight to-night you will see the spirit of your future husband waiting for you! You might have a peep at him now, and come back and tell us what he is like!” Esmeralda turned her head on the cushion, and looked at him with a lazy smile. “What nonsense are you talking? You are thinking of Hallowe’en, stupid! That has nothing to do with to-day!” “It has, then! It’s just as good as Christmas Eve. We been told so by those that know, but you want to get out of it because you haven’t the pluck. All girls are afraid of the dark.” “You said yourself it was moonlight! I shouldn’t be afraid to walk the whole round of the Castle if it came to that, but I don’t see why I should. I’m snug and comfortable here, and it’s not worth disturbing myself to convince a boy like you!” “So you say.” Pat wagged his head in undisguised scepticism. “It’s easy to talk, my dear, but I should prefer actions to words. You made a poor show on that ladder yesterday, and I don’t like to own a coward for my sister. Look here now, you were worrying me to give you that racket, and I said I would do nothing of the kind, but I’ll change my mind and hand it over to you to-night, if you will walk that round and come back here without letting a single howl out of you the whole time!” Bridgie drew her brows together and looked suspicious at this unwonted generosity, but Esmeralda sprang to her feet, all eagerness and excitement. “You will now? Honour bright? If I walk down the left wing, go down the circular staircase, and round by the hall, you will hand the racket over when I come back?” “I will so!” “You hear that, you girls? You are witnesses, remember! I’m off this minute, and if I meet my spouse I’ll bring him back for a warm by the fire, so stoke up and get a good blaze. I hope he will think I am becomingly arrayed.” He was sure to do that, was Mademoiselle’s reflection as she smiled back into the sparkling face, and watched the tall figure flit down the corridor. Quite ghost-like it looked in the cold blue rays which came in through the windows, the dead white of the dress standing out sharply against the darkness of the background. It was almost as if the spirit of one of those old ancestors whose portraits lined the walls had come back to revisit her old home, and Bridgie shivered as she looked, and turned on Pat with unusual sharpness. “What nonsense are you up to now? She’ll not catch anything but her death of cold, wandering about those galleries with her bare arms and neck. Spirits indeed! You ought to know better than to believe in such nonsense; but there’s some mischief afoot, or you wouldn’t be so generous all of a sudden. What’s the meaning of it now? Tell me this minute!” Pat’s grin of delight extended from ear to ear; he stood in obstinate silence until the last flicker of whiteness disappeared in the distance, then shut the door, and deliberately barred it with his back. “Sit down, then, and I’ll give the history; but don’t attempt to get out, for you’ll not pass this door except over my dead body. You say she won’t meet anybody, do you? That’s where you are wrong, for he’s waiting for her at this very minute. He came ringing at the door five minutes ago, the young Englishman that’s with the Trelawneys, and that father was after offering a mount to the other day. ‘Is Mr O’Shaughnessy at home?’ says he. ‘He is, sir,’ says Molly, knowing no better, for she never had a sight of the Major after dinner. ‘Can I see him for a moment? I’ll not come farther than the hall, for the cart’s waiting, and I am not fit to enter a room.’ So with that he comes in, six foot two, if he’s an inch, and covered from head to foot in a shiny white mackintosh, with his head peeping out on top, and I’ve seen uglier men than him before this. I was coming down the stairs after shedding me sheets, and Molly was asking me where the Major might be, so I told her to send Dennis in search, and I was all smiles and apologies for the darkness of the place, with only the one lamp and the fire dying out on the hearth. ‘I’ll fetch more light,’ says I, and, ‘Pray do nothing of the kind. It’s charming to see this fine old place lit up by the moonlight; I could study it for an hour on end. A perfect setting for a ghost story, isn’t it?’ says he, smiling, and with that he crosses over to the window, and by the same token it was a regular ghost he looked himself, all tall, and straight, and shiny white. Then it walked into my head what a jest it would be to send Esmeralda to meet him, and the two of them each thinking the other was a ghost, and frightened out of their seven senses. So I excused myself, polite like, saying I would speak to my sister, and the rest of the tale you know for yourselves. I taunted her with cowardice to make her rise to the occasion, but that wouldn’t work, and time was passing, so I turned to bribery, but by good fortune I’ll keep my racket yet. At this very moment she will be feeling her way cautiously down that stair, and he’ll be hearing the creak, and coming forward to see the cause. All bluey white they’ll be, and each one so scared by the sight of the other that they’ll hardly dare to breathe. Listen now while I open the door, and you may hear her squeal.” “Patrick O’Shaughnessy, ye graceless boy, how dare you take such a liberty with your sister! A strange man,—an Englishman,—and Esmeralda knowing nothing about him, and believing there is no one near! Let me pass now! Stand aside this moment! Patrick O’Shaughnessy, will you let me pass, or will you not?” “I will not!” returned Pat sturdily. “It’s my joke, and I’m not going to have it spoiled. You leave them to fight it out between themselves, and if they come out alive you’ll hear the tale first hand. ‘What do my eyes behold?’ says he. ‘What fairy form is this I see before me?’ ‘Pity me!’ says she. ‘What’s that white pillar over there by the window? It’s a dust sheet that Molly has been hanging over the curtains, and maybe the draught is making it move. Oh, oh, oh, there’s a head to it! It’s alive! It comes towards me! What will I do? What will I do?’” Pat clasped his hands in affected terror, and shrieked in clever imitation of his sister’s manner. The door was still ajar, and as he stopped a sound from below rose faintly to the ears of his companions, a second shriek so alike in tone and expression that it might have been the echo of his own. “Pixie,” cried Bridgie wildly, “at him, Pixie! At him!” And like a flash of lightning Pixie lay prone on the floor with her arms wound tightly round Pat’s legs. He swayed and staggered, clutched at the wall, and felt Mademoiselle’s arms nip him from behind, as the door flew open, and Bridgie sped like a lapwing along the gallery. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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