Chapter 11 A Very Naughty Girl by L. T. Meade
“I CANNOT ALTER MY PLANS.”
Immediately after lunch Lady Frances beckoned Evelyn to her side.
“Go up-stairs and ask Jasper to dress you,” she said. “The carriage will be round in a few minutes.”
Evelyn wanted to expostulate. She looked full at Audrey. Surely Audrey would protect her from the terrible infliction of a long drive alone with Lady Frances! Audrey did catch Evelyn’s beseeching glance; she took a step forward.
“Do you particularly want Evelyn this afternoon, mother?” she asked.
“Yes, dear; if I did not want her I should not ask her to come with me.”
Lady Frances’s words were very impressive; Audrey stood silent.
“Please tell her – please tell her!” interrupted Evelyn in a voice tremulous with passion.
“We are going to have charades to-night, mother, and Evelyn’s part is somewhat important; we are all to rehearse in the schoolroom at three o’clock.”
“And my part is very important,” interrupted Evelyn again.
“I am sorry,” said Lady Frances, “but Evelyn must come with me. Is there no one else to take the part, Audrey?”
“Yes, mother; Sophie could do it. She has a very small part, and she is a good actress, and Evelyn could easily do Sophie’s part; but, all the same, it will disappoint Eve.”
“I am sorry for that,” said Lady Frances; “but I cannot alter my plans. Give Sophie the part that Evelyn would have taken; Evelyn can take her part. – You will have plenty of time, Evelyn, when you return to coach for the small part.”
“Yes, you will, Evelyn; but I am sorry, all the same,” said Audrey, and she turned away.
Evelyn’s lips trembled. She stood motionless; then she slowly revolved round, intending to fire some very angry words into Lady Frances’s face; but, lo and behold! there was no Lady Frances there. She had gone up-stairs while Evelyn was lost in thought.
Very quietly the little girl went up to her own room. Jasper, her eyes almost swollen out of her head with crying, was there to wait on her.
“I have been packing up, Miss Evelyn,” she said. “I am to go this afternoon. Her ladyship has made all arrangements, and a cab is to come from the ‘Green Man’ in the village to fetch me and my luggage at half-past three. It is almost past belief, Miss Eve, that you and me should be parted like this.”
“You look horrid, Jasper, when you cry so hard!” said Evelyn. “Oh, of course I am awfully sorry; I do not know how I shall live without you.”
“You will miss me a good bit,” said the woman. “I am surprised, though, that you should take it as you do. If you raised your voice and started the whole place in an uproar you would be bound to have your own way. But as it is, you are mum as you please; never a word out of you either of sorrow or anything else, but off you go larking with those children and forgetting the one who has made you, mended you, and done everything on earth for you since long before your mother died.”
“Don’t remind me of mothery now,” said the girl, and her lips trembled; then she added in a changed voice: “I cannot help it, Jasper. I have been fighting ever since I came here, and I want to fight – oh, most badly, most desperately! – but somehow the courage has gone out of me. I am ever so sorry for you, Jasper, but I cannot help myself; I really cannot.”
Jasper was silent. After a time she said slowly:
“And your mother wrote a letter on her deathbed asking Lady Frances to let me stay with you whatever happened.”
“I know,” said Evelyn. “It is awful of her; it really is.”
“And do you think,” continued the woman, “I am going to submit?”
“Why, you must, Jasper. You cannot stay if they do not wish for you. And you have got all your wages, have you not?”
“I have, my dear; I have. Yes,” continued the woman; “she thinks, of course, that I am satisfied, and that I am going as mum as a mouse and as quiet as the grave, but she is fine and mistook; I ain’t doing nothing of the sort. Go I must, but not far. I have a plan in my head. It may come to nothing; but if it does come to something, as I hope to goodness it will, then you will hear of me again, my pet, and I won’t be far off to protect you if the time should come that you need me. And now, what do you want of me, my little lamb, for your face is piteous to see?”
“I am a miserable girl,” said Evelyn. “I could cry for hours, but there is no time. Dress me, then, for the last time, Jasper. Oh, Jasper darling, I am fond of you!”
Evelyn’s stoical, hard sort of nature seemed to give way at this juncture; she flung her arms round her maid’s neck and kissed her many times passionately. The woman kissed her, too, in a hungry sort of way.
“You are really not going far away, Jasper?” said Evelyn when, dressed in her coat and hat, she was ready to start.
“My plans are laid but not made yet,” said the woman. “You will hear from me likely to-morrow, my love. And now, good-by. I have packed all your things in the trunks they came in, and the wardrobe is empty. Oh, my pet, my pet, good-by! Who will look after you to-night, and who will sleep in the little white bed alongside of you? Oh, my darling, the spirit of your Jasper is broke, that it is!”
“Evelyn!” called her aunt, who was passing her room at that moment, “the carriage is at the door. Come at once.”
Evelyn ran down-stairs. She wore a showy, unsuitable hat and a showy, unsuitable jacket. She got quickly into the carriage, and flopped down by the side of the stately Lady Frances.
Lady Frances was a very judicious woman in her way. She reprimanded whenever in her opinion it was necessary to reprimand, but she never nagged. It needed but a glance to show her that Evelyn required to be educated in every form of good-breeding, and that education the good woman fully intended to take in hand without a moment’s delay, but she did not intend to find fault moment by moment. She said nothing, therefore, either in praise or blame to the small, awkward, conceited little girl by her side; but she gave orders to stop at Simpson’s in the High Street, and the carriage started briskly forward. Wynford Castle was within half a mile of the village which was called after it, and five miles away from a large and very important cathedral town – the cathedral town of Easterly. During the drive Lady Frances chatted in the sort of tone she would use to a small girl, and Evelyn gave short and sulky replies. Finding that her conversation was not interesting to her small guest, the good lady became silent and wrapped up in her own thoughts. Presently they arrived at Simpson’s, and there the lady and the child got out and entered the shop. Evelyn was absolutely bewildered by the amount of things which her aunt ordered for her. It is true that she had had, as Jasper expressed it, quite a small trousseau when in Paris; but during her mother’s lifetime her dresses had come to her slowly and with long intervals between. Mrs. Wynford had been a showy but by no means a good dresser; she loved the gayest, most bizarre colors, and she delighted in adorning her child with bits of feathers, scraps of shabby lace, beads, and such-like decorations. After her mother’s death, when Evelyn, considered herself rich, she and Jasper purchased the same sort of things, only using better materials. Thus the thin silk was exchanged for thick silk, cotton-back satin for the real article, velveteen for velvet, cheap lace for real lace, and the gaily colored beads for gold chains and strings of pearls. Nothing in Evelyn’s opinion and nothing in Jasper’s opinion could be more exquisitely beautiful than the toilet which Evelyn brought to Castle Wynford; but Lady Frances evidently thought otherwise. She ordered a dark-blue serge, with a jacket to match, to be put in hand immediately for the little girl; she bought a dark-gray dress, ready made, which was to be sent home that same evening. She got a neat black hat to wear with the dress, and a thick black pilot-cloth jacket to cover the small person of the heiress. As to her evening-dresses, she chose them of fine, soft white silk and fine, soft muslin; and then, having added a large store of underclothing, all of the best quality, and one or two pale-pink and pale-blue evening-frocks, all severely plain, she got once more into her carriage, and, accompanied by Evelyn, drove home. On the seat in front of the pair reposed a box which contained a very simple white muslin frock for Evelyn to wear that evening.
“I suppose Jasper will have gone when I get back?” said the little girl to Lady Frances.
“Certainly,” said Lady Frances. “I ordered her to be out of the house by half-past three; it is now past five o’clock.”
“What am I to do for a maid?”
“My servant Read shall wait on you to-night and every evening and morning until our guests have gone; then Audrey’s maid Louisa will attend on you.”
“But I want a maid all to myself.”
“You cannot have one. Louisa will give you what assistance is necessary. I presume you do not want to be absolutely dependent; you would like to be able to do things for yourself.”
“In mother’s time I did everything for myself, but now it is different. I am a very, very rich girl now.”
Lady Frances was silent when Evelyn made this remark.
“I am rich, am I not, Aunt Frances?” said the little heiress almost timidly.
“I cannot see where the riches come in, Evelyn. At the present moment you depend on your uncle for every penny that is spent upon you.”
“But I am the heiress!”
“Let the future take care of itself. You are a little girl – small, insignificant, and ignorant. You require to be trained and looked after, and to have your character moulded, and for all these things you depend on the kindness of your relations. The fact is this, Evelyn: at present you have not the slightest idea of your true position. When you find your level I shall have hopes of you – not before.”
Evelyn leant back hopelessly in the carriage and began to sob. After a time she said:
“I wish you would let me keep Jasper.”
Lady Frances was silent.
“Why won’t you let me keep Jasper?”
“I do not consider it good for you.”
“But mothery asked you to.”
“It gives me pain, Evelyn, under the circumstances to refuse your mother’s request; but I have consulted your uncle, and we both feel that the steps I have taken are the only ones to take.”
“Who will sleep in my room to-night?”
“Are you such a baby as to need anybody?”
“I never slept alone in my life. I am quite terrified. I suppose your big, ancient house is haunted?”
“Oh, what a silly child you are! Very well, for a night or two I will humor you, and Read shall sleep in the room; but now clearly understand I allow no bedroom suppers and no gossip – but Read will see to that. Now, make up your mind to be happy and contented – in short, to submit to the life which Providence has ordered for you. Think first of others and last of yourself and you may be happy. Consult Audrey and Miss Sinclair and you will gain wisdom. Obey me whether you like it or not, or you will certainly be a very wretched girl. Ah! and here we are. You would like to go to the schoolroom; they are having tea there, I believe. Run off, dear; that will do for the present.”
When Evelyn reached the schoolroom she found a busy and animated group all seated about in different parts of it. They were eagerly discussing the charade, and when Evelyn arrived she was welcomed.
“I am ever so sorry, Evelyn,” said Audrey, “that you cannot have the part you wanted; but we mean to get up some other charades later on in the week, and then you shall help us and have a very good part. You do not mind our arrangement for to-night, do you?”
Evelyn replied somewhat sulkily. Audrey determined to take no notice. She sat down by her little cousin, told Sophie to fetch some hot tea, and soon coaxed Evelyn into a fairly good-humor. The small part she was to undertake was read over to her, and she was obliged to get certain words by heart. She had little or no idea of acting, but there was a certain calm assurance about her which would carry her through many difficulties. The children, incited by Audrey’s example, were determined to pet her and make the best of her; and when she did leave the schoolroom she felt almost as happy and important as she thought she ought to be.
“What a horrid girl she is!” said Sophie as soon as the door had closed behind Evelyn.
“I wish you would not say that,” remarked Audrey; and a look of distress visited her pretty face.
“Oh, we do not mind for ourselves,” remarked Juliet; “it is on your account, Audrey. You know what great friends we have always been, and now to have you associated every day, and all day long with a girl of that sort – it really seems almost past bearing.”
“I shall get used to it,” said Audrey. “And remember that I pity her, and am sorry – very sorry – for her. I dare say we shall win her over by being kind.”
“Well,” said Henrietta, rising as she spoke and slowly crossing the room, “I have promised to be civil to her for your sake for a day or two, but I vow it will not last long if she gives herself such ridiculous airs. The idea of her ever having a place like this!”
She said the last words below her breath, and Audrey did not hear them. Presently her mother called her, and the young girl ran off. The others looked at each other.
“Well, Arthur, and what is filling your mind?” said his sister Henrietta, looking into the face of the handsome boy.
“I am thinking of Sylvia,” he answered. “I wish she were here instead of Evelyn. Don’t you like her very much, Hennie? Don’t you think she is a very handsome and very interesting girl?”
“I hardly spoke to her,” replied Henrietta. “I saw you were taken with her.”
“She was mysterious; that is one reason why I like her,” he replied. Then he added abruptly: “I wish you would make friends with her, Henrietta. I wish you, and Juliet too, could be specially kind to her; she looks so very sad.”
“I never saw a merrier girl,” was Juliet’s reply. “But then, I don’t see people with your eyes; you are always a good one at guessing people’s secrets.”
“I take after Moss in that,” he replied.
“There never was any one like her,” said Juliet. “Well, I am going to dress now. I hope the charade will go off well. What a blessing Lady Frances came to the rescue and delivered us from Evelyn’s spoiling everything by taking a good part!”
Meanwhile Evelyn had gone up to her room. It was neat and in perfect order once more. Jasper’s brief reign had passed and left no sign. The fire burned brightly on the carefully swept-up hearth; the electric light made the room bright as day. A neat, grave-looking woman was standing by the fire, and when Evelyn appeared she came forward to meet her.
“My name is Mrs. Read,” she said. “I am my mistress’s own special maid, but she has asked me to see to your toilet this evening, Miss Wynford; and this, I understand, is the dress her ladyship wishes you to wear.”
Evelyn pouted; then she tossed off her hat and looked full up at Read. Her lips quivered, and a troubled, pathetic light for the first time filled her brown eyes.
“Where is Jasper?” she asked abruptly.
“Miss Jasper has left, my dear young lady.”
“Then I hate you, and I don’t want you to dress me. You can go away,” said Evelyn.
“I am sorry, Miss Wynford, but her ladyship’s orders are that I am to attend to your wardrobe. Perhaps you will allow me to do your hair and put on your dress at once, as her ladyship wants me to go to her a little later.”
“You will do nothing of the kind. I will dress myself now that Jasper has gone.”
“And a good thing too, miss. Young ladies ought always to make themselves useful. The more you know, the better off you will be; that is my opinion.”
Evelyn looked full up at Read. Read had a kindly face, calm blue eyes, a firm, imperturbable sort of mouth. She wore her hair very neatly banded on each side of her head. Her dress was perfectly immaculate. There was nothing out of place; she looked, in short, like the very soul of order.
“Do you know who I am?” was Evelyn’s remark.
“Certainly I do, Miss Wynford.”
“Please tell me.”
The glimmer of a smile flitted across Read’s calm mouth.
“You are a young lady from Tasmania, niece to the Squire, and you have come over here to be educated with Miss Audrey – bless her!”
“Is that all you know!” said Evelyn. “Then I will tell you more. There will come a day when your Miss Audrey will have nothing to do with the Castle, and when I shall have everything to do with it. I am to be mistress here any day, whenever my uncle dies.”
“My dear Miss Wynford, don’t speak like that! The Squire is safe to live, Providence permitting, for many a long year.”
Evelyn sat down again.
“I think my aunt, Lady Frances, one of the cruellest women in the world,” she continued. “Now you know what I think, and you can tell her, you nasty cross-patch. You can go away and tell her at once. I longed to say so to her face when I was out driving to-day, but she has got the upper hand of me, although she is not going to keep it. I don’t want you to help me; I hate you nearly as much as I hate her!”
Read looked as though she did not hear a single remark that Evelyn made. She crossed the room, and presently returned with a can of hot water and poured some into a basin.
“Now, miss,” she said, “if you will wash your face and hands, I will arrange your hair.”
There was something in her tone which reduced Evelyn to silence.
“Did you not hear what I said?” she remarked after a minute.
“No, miss; it may be more truthful to say I did not. When young ladies talk silly, naughty words I have a ’abit of shutting up my ears; so it ain’t no manner of use to talk on to me, miss, for I don’t hear, and I won’t hear, and that is flat. If you will come now, like a good little lady, and allow yourself to be dressed, I have a bit of a surprise for you; but you will not know about it before your toilet is complete.”
“A bit of a surprise!” said Evelyn, who was intensely curious. “What in the world can it be?”
“I will tell you when you are dressed, miss; and I must ask you to hurry, for my mistress is waiting for me.”
If Evelyn had one overweening failing more than another, it was inordinate curiosity. She rose, therefore, and submitted with a very bad grace to Read’s manipulations. Her face and hands were washed, and Read proceeded to brush out the scanty flaxen locks.
“Are you not going to pile my hair on the top of my head?” asked the little girl.
“Oh dear, no, Miss Wynford; that ain’t at all the way little ladies of your age wear their hair.”
“I always wore it like that when I was in Tasmania with mothery!”
“Tasmania is not England, miss. It would not suit her ladyship for you to wear your hair so.”
“Then I won’t wear it any other way.”
“As you please, miss. I can put on your dress, and you can arrange your hair yourself, but I won’t give you what will be a bit of a surprise to you.”
“Oh, do it as you please,” said Evelyn.
Her hair, very pretty in itself, although far too thin to make much show, was accordingly arranged in childish fashion; and when Evelyn presently found herself arrayed in her high-bodied and long-sleeved white muslin dress, with white silk stockings and little silk shoes to match, and a white sash round her waist, she gazed at herself in the glass in puzzled wonder.
Read stood for a moment watching her face.
“I am pretty, am I not?” said Evelyn, turning and looking full at her maid.
“It is best not to think of looks, and it is downright sinful to talk of them,” was Read’s somewhat severe answer.
Evelyn’s eyes twinkled.
“I feel like a very good, pretty little girl,” she said. “Last night I was a charming grown-up young lady. Very soon again I shall be a charming grown-up young lady, and whether Aunt Frances likes it or not, I shall be much, much better-looking than Audrey. Now, please, I have been good, and I want what you said you had for me.”
“It is a letter from Jasper,” replied Read. “She told me I was to give it to you. Now, please, miss, don’t make yourself untidy. You look very nice and suitable. When the gong rings you can go down-stairs, or sooner if your fancy takes you. I am going off now to attend to my mistress.”
When alone, Evelyn tore open the letter which Jasper had left for her. It was short, and ran as follows:
My darling, precious Lamb, – The best friends must part, but, oh, it is a black, black heart that makes it necessary! My heart is bleeding to think that you won’t have me to make your chocolate, and to lie down in the little white bed by your side this evening. Yes, it is bleeding, and bleeding badly, and there will be no blessing on her who has tried to part us. But, Miss Evelyn, my dear, don’t you fret, for though I am away I do not mean to be far away, and when you want me I will still be there. I have a plan in my head, and I will let you know about it when it is properly laid. No more at present, but if you think of me every minute to-night, so will I think of you, my dear little white Eve; and don’t forget, darling, that whatever they may do to you, the time will come when they will all, the Squire excepted, be under your thumb.
– Your loving
“Jasper.”
The morsel of content and satisfaction which Evelyn had felt when she saw herself looking like a nice, ordinary little girl, and when she had sat in the schoolroom surrounded by all the gay young folks of her cousin’s station in life, vanished completely as she read Jasper’s injudicious words. Tears flowed from her eyes; she clenched her hands. She danced passionately about the room. She longed to tear from her locks the white ribbons which Read had arranged there; she longed to get into the white satin dress which she had worn on the previous occasion; she longed to do anything on earth to defy Lady Frances; but, alack and alas! what good were longings when the means of yielding to them were denied? – for all that precious and fascinating wardrobe had been put into Evelyn’s traveling-trunks, and those trunks had been conveyed from the blue-and-silver bedroom. The little girl found that she had to submit.
“Well, I do – I do,” she thought – “but only outwardly. Oh, she will never break me in! Mothery darling, she will never break me in. I am going to be naughty always, always, because she is so cruel, and because I hate her, and because she has parted me from Jasper – your friend, my darling mothery, your friend!”