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If she was silent, no one would be likely to guess that Rhoda was Lydia's child. She was not mentioned by name in the will. And she should not suffer. Ways and means of providing for her could be found. But she could not have Woodcote. That was Tom's. It would break Tom's heart to give it up. As Miss Merivale thought of Tom her heart grew hard against Rhoda.
The sky was cloudless, but yellow with smoke, and a dull haze hung over the river. Rose thought of Woodcote, where the great chestnuts were already in full leaf, and the gorse common beyond the wood was a sheet of gold. An intense longing took hold of her to go home, if only for an hour or two. She looked at her watch and saw that it was not yet one o'clock.
"And I mean to have some cookery lessons, if I can get them. But Woodcote is so far from everywhere. It is like being buried alive." Rhoda, who had known what it was to live for years fifty miles from a town, did not know how to answer this. And Rose, angry with herself for saying so much to Miss Sampson, caught up the pastry board and rolling-pin and retreated to the kitchen.
He was eagerly questioning her about Australian flowers when Miss Merivale entered the library and caught sight of them through the window. The colour flowed into her pale face as she watched them talking to each other. For the first time she saw how Woodcote might be Tom's and yet be Rhoda's too. Dusk had fallen before Rhoda got back to Acacia Road.
There was plenty of time to go to Woodcote and get back before Pauline returned. And how joyfully surprised her aunt would be! She wondered she had not thought of it before. An hour later she was in the train, speeding countrywards. She sat close to the window, looking eagerly at the green fields and the budding trees. She no longer felt disappointed about the concert.
Woodcote had been their home ever since. Tom had grown up knowing that the estate was to be his at Miss Merivale's death. James Merivale had died young, ten years before his father; and Lydia, Miss Merivale's only sister, had married against her father's wishes, and had been disowned by him.
He can't talk much owing to his jaw being tied up usually he writes me messages, all about going home and being a good boy, turning over a new leaf, and so on. I suppose the last person you ever see nowadays is the Revd. Sam Gardner? You know they howked him out of Woodcote? He got "preferment" as he calls it, and a cure of souls at Margate.
She had, in truth, made up her mind that Rhoda must come to Woodcote. She was only waiting till Rose came home to arrange it. However much she surprised Rose and Tom, however difficult it would be to explain why she wanted Rhoda, Rhoda must come to her. She could not leave Lydia's girl alone in London. And Tom's surprise, at least, would have no element of annoyance in it.
She did not go down to Woodcote till Thursday afternoon. Miss Merivale had asked her to come early and spend the day, but she had written to explain how it was that she could not spare the time; her aunt wanted her help in packing. The old house looked more beautiful and peaceful than ever, steeped in the golden afternoon sunlight.
But you have disappointed me, Rose. I must tell you so quite frankly." And Rose felt quite crushed for the moment by the judicial air with which Pauline pronounced this judgment on her. Pauline and Rose went down to Woodcote on Friday evening. Pauline had apparently recovered her spirits, and was in her brightest mood.
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