J UNE twenty-first, the day of the birthday, was cloudy and unsettled at sunrise, but towards noon it cleared up bravely.
We, in the servants' hall, began this happy anniversary, as usual, by offering our little presents to Miss Rachel, with the regular speech delivered annually by me as the chief.I follow the plan adopted by the Queen in opening Parliament--namely, the plan of saying much the same thing regularly every year.Before it is delivered, my speech (like the Queen's) is looked for as eagerly as if nothing of the kind had ever been heard before.When it is delivered, and turns out not to be the novelty anticipated, though they grumble a little, they look forward hopefully to something newer next year.An easy people to govern, in the Parliament and in the Kitchen--that's the moral of it.
After breakfast, Mr.Franklin and I had a private conference on the subject of the Moonstone--the time having now come for removing it from the bank at Frizinghall, and placing it in Miss Rachel's own hands.
Whether he had been trying to make love to his cousin again, and had got a rebuff--or whether his broken rest, night after night, was aggravating the queer contradictions and uncertainties in his character--I don't know.
But certain it is, that Mr.Franklin failed to show himself at his best on the morning of the birthday.He was in twenty different minds about the Diamond in as many minutes.For my part, I stuck fast to the plain facts as we knew them.Nothing had happened to justify us in alarming my lady on the subject of the jewel; and nothing could after the legal obligation that now lay on Mr.Franklin to put it in his cousin's possession.That was my view of the matter; and, twist and turn it as he might, he was forced in the end to make it his view too.We arranged that he was to ride over, after lunch, to Frizinghall, and bring the Diamond back, with Mr.Godfrey and the two young ladies, in all probability, to keep him company on the way home again.
This settled, our young gentleman went back to Miss Rachel.
They consumed the whole morning, and part of the afternoon, in the everlasting business of decorating the door, Penelope standing by to mix the colours, as directed; and my lady, as luncheon time drew near, going in and out of the room, with her handkerchief to her nose (for they used a deal of Mr.Franklin's vehicle that day), and trying vainly to get the two artists away from their work.It was three o'clock before they took off their aprons, and released Penelope (much the worse for the vehicle), and cleaned themselves of their mess.But they had done what they wanted--they had finished the door on the birthday, and proud enough they were of it.The griffins, cupids, and so on, were, I must own, most beautiful to behold; though so many in number, so entangled in flowers and devices, and so topsy-turvy in their actions and attitudes, that you felt them unpleasantly in your head for hours after you had done with the pleasure of looking at them.If I add that Penelope ended her part of the morning's work by being sick in the back-kitchen, it is in no unfriendly spirit towards the vehicle.No! no!
It left off stinking when it dried; and if Art requires these sort of sacrifices--though the girl is my own daughter--I say, let Art have them!
Mr.Franklin snatched a morsel from the luncheon-table, and rode off to Frizinghall--to escort his cousins, as he told my lady.To fetch the Moonstone, as was privately known to himself and to me.
This being one of the high festivals on which I took my place at the sideboard, in command of the attendance at table, I had plenty to occupy my mind while Mr.Franklin was away.Having seen to the wine, and reviewed my men and women who were to wait at dinner, I retired to collect myself before the company came.A whiff of--you know what, and a turn at a certain book which I have had occasion to mention in these pages, composed me, body and mind.I was aroused from what I am inclined to think must have been, not a nap, but a reverie, by the clatter of horses' hoofs outside;and, going to the door, received a cavalcade comprising Mr.Franklin and his three cousins, escorted by one of old Mr.Ablewhite's grooms.
Mr.Godfrey stuck me, strangely enough, as being like Mr.Franklin in the respect--that he did not seem to be in his customary spirits.He kindly shook hands with me as usual, and was most politely glad to see his old friend Betteredge wearing so well.But there was a sort of cloud over him, which I couldn't at all account for; and when I asked how he had found his father in health, he answered rather shortly, `Much as usual.' However, the two Miss Ablewhites were cheerful enough for twenty, which more than restored the balance.They were nearly as big as their brother; spanking, yellow-haired, rosy lasses, overflowing with super-abundant flesh and blood;bursting from head to foot with health and spirits.The legs of the poor horses trembled with carrying them; and when they jumped from their saddles (without waiting to be helped), I declare they bounced on the ground as if they were made of india-rubber.Everything the Miss Ablewhites said began with a large O; everything they did was done with a bang; and they giggled and screamed, in season and out of season, on the smallest provocation.
Bouncers--that's what I call them.
Under cover of the noise made by the young ladies, I had an opportunity of saying a private word to Mr.Franklin in the hall.
`Have you got the Diamond safe, sir?'
He nodded, and tapped the breast-pocket of his coat.
`Have you seen anything of the Indians?'
`Not a glimpse.' With that answer, he asked for my lady, and, hearing she was in the small drawing-room, went there straight.The bell rang, before he had been a minute in the room, and Penelope was sent to tell Miss Rachel that Mr.Franklin Blake wanted to speak to her.
Crossing the hall, about half an hour afterwards, I was brought to a sudden standstill by an outbreak of screams from the small drawing-room.