by Three Graces
Mrs. Wellfleet joined them for nursery tea, very ethereal and lovely in a gown of clinging pale blue muslin. The children, as usual, greeted her with shouts of joy and much jumping up and down. Their mother welcomed this display laughingly and danced around with them a moment before directing everyone to the table.
“How lovely this is,” she said then. “I do so love this room.”
Sunlight poured in through the broad windows of the nursery, touching the chintz sofa, the battered table where they sat, and the bright heads of all four occupants.
“Yes indeed,” continued Anne Wellfleet, beginning to pour out the tea. “I am convinced that this is the most comfortable room in the house.”
“But, Mother,” answered George, shocked. “Our sofa is all bumpy, and the rug is not nearly so soft as the one in the drawing room.”
Anne laughed. “Isn’t it, lazy boy? Well, I still say this is a fine room.”
George shrugged and addressed himself to his bread and jam.
They drank their tea in silence for a moment; then Mrs. Wellfleet said, “Did you have a nice afternoon, all of you?”
“Yes,” said Alice. “We played with the hoop, and Mr. Dudley showed us how. And I patted Butus three times.”
“Mr. Dudley is a bang-up runner,” added George, his mouth full.
His mother shook a finger at him before turning to Aggie. “Did you have a pleasant time as well?” she asked.
Looking at her plate, Aggie nodded.
“John Dudley is such a pleasant young man, I think. And he told me that the two of you were acquainted years ago, as children?”
“Yes. We often played together.”
“Isn’t that the most amazing thing? That you should meet again after all this time.” Anne watched the other girl from the corners of her eyes.
“Well, your house is very close to our old neighborhood, so I suppose it is not so amazing as all that. But it was strange to see him again.”
“We like him so, don’t you?” A twinkle danced in Mrs. Wellfleet’s eyes.
“Oh, well, I… I hardly know him well enough to say.”
“But you are old friends!”
“There is a great difference, meeting as adults. I really don’t… that is…”
“Very well. I shan’t tease you anymore.” Anne laughed. “I shan’t even ask about that difference, interesting as it sounds. But I do like John Dudley; I hope he means to call again soon.”
“I… I think he does.”
“Splendid.” And Mrs. Wellfleet turned back to her children, exclaiming, “Oh, no, George, you have jam on your coat again. Mrs. Dunkin will be so angry.”
Aggie watched her with some puzzlement as she scrubbed at George’s coat with a moistened napkin. What had she been leading up to? And why teasing? Aggie shook her head and turned to help Alice spread another slice of bread with jam.
Four
The days passed quietly but pleasantly for Aggie. As she spent more time with George and Alice, she grew to like them more and more. And as they gradually became accustomed to the schedule she set for them, both showed more interest in learning the things she had to teach. They began to spend mornings in the schoolroom reading aloud or talking, going for walks outdoors in the afternoons.
Aggie’s liking for her employers also grew. She saw little of Mr. Wellfleet, except at dinner, but he was unfailingly polite and kind to her. And Anne would clearly have overwhelmed her with kindness if she had had her way. Her huge enthusiasms and childlike enjoyment of things often made Aggie laugh, but the girl also saw that there was real warmth behind them. The two women were rapidly becoming good friends.
Of the surrounding neighbors, Aggie saw little. She spent much of her time with the children, and this left small opportunity to encounter any guests the Wellfleets might have. Too, though Anne always urged her to join any entertainment in the house, Aggie felt awkward about doing so and usually kept to her room. It did not seem right to her that she should push into social activities; she always remembered that she was the governess, even though Anne Wellfleet did not seem to. However, John Dudley called several times and made a point of seeking her out and chatting. Her growing acquaintance with him was pleasant.
She received frequent letters from her sisters, Thalia in Bath and Euphie in London, and these went far to prevent any loneliness she might otherwise have felt. Both wrote amusingly, and both seemed reasonably happy, which raised Aggie’s spirits.
But though Aggie was content and rapidly settling to a routine in her new circumstances, her employer was by no means so reconciled. “It is impossible,” said Anne Wellfleet to her husband one evening. “How am I to introduce Aggie to eligible young men if she refuses to come downstairs when I invite them? I am convinced that she could make a splendid marriage, with only the smallest of exertions, but she won’t.” Mrs. Wellfleet pouted very prettily. “I declare I cannot understand the girl.”
Her husband smiled. “What, have you given up on John Dudley, then? I thought you had determined that he was the one to marry Miss Hartington.”
“Well, of course. But she must have some choice, must she not? How can she see how very nice John is if she meets no other young men? Oh, how vexing it is. Last evening, I had young Lord Wrexham and Mr. Lewes on purpose to meet Aggie, and she refused to come down! What is the matter with her?”
“I suppose, my dear, that she feels her position awkward. Her modesty does her credit.”
“Whatever can you mean, Alex? What position, how awkward?”
He smiled down at her again. “You did engage Miss Hartington as a nursery governess for the children, Anne. And it is not at all usual to try to marry off one’s governess in the neighborhood.” He looked reflective. “Or out of it, for that matter.”
“Pooh,” replied Mrs. Wellfleet “Usual. I shouldn’t care to be ‘usual’ even if I could. And no one ever had a governess like Aggie. She is so lovely, Alex!”
“She is that.”
“And you must see that it would be positively criminal for her not to marry and have a wonderful family.” She went over to sit on the arm of his chair, and he put one arm around her waist. “Just like mine!”
“I’d be a fool to try to dispute that statement. But I do think you should try to see the girl’s side of it, Anne. She is probably embarrassed.”
“But I am trying. If I wished to be selfish, nothing would be easier than to keep her as governess and never ask her downstairs. But I want to help her!”
“I know that. I wasn’t criticizing. How could I? I simply meant that Miss Hartington probably does not know how to act when you try to make her one of the family. I suppose she does not want to seem encroaching.”
“Aggie? She couldn’t be.”
“Doubtless. But it is because she worries over the matter that she couldn’t.”
Anne Wellfleet laughed musically. “How witty you are. Well, I must have a talk with her and explain, I suppose. I wanted to do the thing quietly, without letting her know what was in my mind, but it appears that will not do.” She started to rise, but her husband held her back.
“I think you should consider one thing, Anne, before you raise the girl’s hopes too high.”
“What?”
“Miss Hartington is indeed very beautiful and amiable, but she is also penniless. Many men will consider that fact before they speak.”
“Odious Alex! Do you mean to say that any man would allow money to influence his feelings when he had once seen Aggie?”
“I fear that I do.”
“Well, such a man is not worth one hair of her head, and I hope I am given the opportunity to tell him so!”
Her husband smiled. “You would administer a thundering scold, would you?”
“To be sure I would.”
“Poor fellow. And yet one must sometimes consider practical matters.”
“Not in this.” Anne looked down at him, her blue eyes glittering. “I see it all now. You would not have offered for m
e, I suppose, had I not had a reasonable portion. How horrid men are!”
“I should have married you if you had been a beggar in the streets,” responded her husband promptly, pulling her closer and putting an end to all conversation for several minutes.
When she could speak again, Anne laughed. “Liar. You would not have met me at all had I been a beggar, but I shall forgive you because you are so absurd. Now, you shall not divert me. I must decide what to do about Aggie.”
“Decide tomorrow,” suggested Mr. Wellfleet, drawing her close again.
“Impudence. I shall decide now, for I have just conceived the most famous plan. I shall give a dress party for Aggie. She must come if she is the guest of honor.”
“But, my love, do you think—?”
Anne clapped her hands. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I must go and tell her at once.” She dropped a kiss on the tip of her husband’s nose and stood. “What fun it will be. We have not had a real party in weeks.” And with an impish smile she skipped out of the room.
Her husband, shaking his head, went back to his newspaper with a rueful smile.
Thus it was that Anne burst in on her children’s lessons and blurted, “Oh, Aggie, I must speak to you. I have just had the most famous notion.”
George and Alice turned quickly to look up at her. Though more docile now, they still welcomed any interruption in their studies. “Hullo, Mother,” said George. “Did you know that in France they call a window a ‘fenet’? How stupid they are.”
“Yes, dear,” replied his mother absently, with little regard for her offspring’s future prejudices. “You and Alice run along to Mrs. Dunkin now, and perhaps she will find you a sweet. I want to talk to Miss Hartington.”
“But we are having our lessons,” said George, trying to look virtuous.
“Well, you may have them later. Go along, now.”
“May I take Butus?” asked Alice, who had become very attached to the kitten in his brief sojourn in the house.
Aggie nodded, and the little girl scooped Brutus from the window seat and turned to go out.
When the children were gone, Anne dropped into the chair beside Aggie. “I must tell you what I have decided,” she said.
“Certainly. But you know, Mrs. Wellfleet, it is best for the children to have regular hours of study. They become accustomed to it then, you see, and—”
“Oh, never mind that. And why won’t you call me ‘Anne’? I have told you and told you.”
“I’m sorry.” Aggie sighed and looked down.
“Well, that doesn’t matter. Only listen. I have determined to hold a dress party for you, in three weeks’ time, to introduce you to the neighborhood. Is that not a marvelous notion?” She smiled at Aggie expectantly.
The girl stared at her. “A dress party? For me?”
“Yes.”
“But… but… why?”
“Why? So that you can begin to make your way in society, of course. You meet no one up here, and you won’t come down when I ask you to. So I thought of this scheme.”
“Mrs. Wellfleet, Anne, you can’t, or rather, I can’t. That is, one cannot give a party for one’s children’s governess. Think how odd it would seem.”
“Pooh, I don’t care for that.” Aggie started to speak, but Mrs. Wellfleet forestalled her. “Alex said you might feel this way, so I came to explain everything to you. Aggie, you must marry. It isn’t right that you should spend your days with George and Alice and have no beaus. My children are charming, but you should be thinking of children of your own, not tending other people’s. So I have determined to act for you in this, as your mother would.” She giggled at this idea. “We have heaps of suitable young men in our neighborhood here, and I shall see that you meet them all so that you can make your choice.” She smiled blindingly. “There, now you see that it is all right.”
Aggie gazed at her, her eyes very wide. She couldn’t seem to find anything to say to this preposterous scheme.
“We must have a new dress made for you,” continued her employer gaily. “White, I think, or perhaps pale primrose. We must study the patterns. And naturally—”
“Mrs. Wellfleet, you cannot,” blurted Aggie.
Anne raised her eyebrows. “You don’t want a new dress? But, Aggie, it would be such fun to—”
“You cannot give a party for me. It is wholly unsuitable. I have no thought of marrying. I am quite happy doing my work here. Please, let us not talk of this anymore.” The mention of new dresses had evoked a vision of dancing and lighthearted gaiety that Aggie found hard to bear.
“But, Aggie,” began the other.
“Please!”
Seeing that the girl was really upset, Mrs. Wellfleet rose. “Very well. We shan’t talk of it any more now. But I am not giving up. I still think it a grand scheme.”
Aggie turned a little away from her, struggling with her feelings. She felt immensely grateful to her kind employer, but she also felt very much like crying.
Anne watched her with concern. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” she added, perplexed.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Wellfleet laid a hand on her arm. “Aggie…”
“I’m quite all right. It was nothing. I really should get back to the children’s lessons now, Mrs. Wellfleet. I do want them to learn everything that I can teach them.”
The other woman frowned at her for a moment, then looked down. After a moment, she rose. “I’ll send them back in,” she said.
Aggie jumped to her feet. “I can fetch them.”
“No, no, I have to walk past Mrs. Dunkin’s room.” She half turned to go, started to speak, then changed her mind and went out. Aggie spent the short time before George and Alice reappeared composing herself and trying to forget the feelings that their conversation had raised.
She did not wholly succeed. The children distracted her through the morning, but when they set out on a walk later in the day, her thoughts turned back to what Mrs. Wellfleet had suggested, and she was forced to ponder her own reaction.
Because of her aunt’s eccentric views on marriage and the male sex in general, Aggie had experienced few of the diversions common to girls of her age and position. She had never been to a ball, or even an evening’s dancing. Though she had once or twice attended the theater and often met her aunt’s friends at home, she had never been to a gathering that included young people. She had felt the lack, less perhaps than her youngest sister, but more than Thalia seemed to. But as there was apparently no remedy, she had calmly shrugged off regrets. Now Mrs. Wellfleet had offered her something of what she had missed. Aggie had felt a part of her respond eagerly at the idea. But the offer came in a way that seemed to her to make it impossible. She had been engaged as a governess, and a governess she must be. Such did not dance at evening parties.
She concluded this as she seated herself on the rock beside the stream where Brutus had taken his epic sail. The children were playing happily by the water. Aggie sighed as she watched them.
“Whatever is the matter?” asked a voice from behind. “You look as if the cares of the whole world had been put on your shoulders.”
Aggie turned quickly to find John Dudley coming up to them. “Oh,” she said.
“Anne said you were outdoors, and I took the liberty of coming to search for you. But what is wrong? You really did look dejected.”
“Nothing.”
Dudley sat down beside her and looked into her face. “I can’t believe that. But perhaps I am intruding; I won’t press you.”
He sounded so kind and so genuinely concerned, that Aggie could not help answering, “It isn’t anything important. Mrs. Wellfleet wants to give a party for me.”
He paused a moment, seeming surprised, then began to laugh.
“You see how improper it is, don’t you?”
“Improper? Not at all. I was just imagining Anne hatching the scheme. It is so like her.”
“She is very kind, but I can’t
seem to make her understand how ridiculous it would be to give a party for her nursery governess.”
“Ridiculous? Why? I think it is a capital idea.”
Aggie looked at him despairingly. “How can you say so? You must see what I mean. Only think a moment!”
“Oh, I understand that in most cases it would be extremely odd, even eccentric. But you are hardly the usual nursery governess, Miss Hartington. You are a special case.”
“I took the position, and I will fulfill its requirements,” replied the girl stiffly. “I do not want special treatment; a party is out of the question.” She turned a little away from him.
He nodded slowly. “That is what you feel, is it?”
“Of course it is. How could I feel anything else?”
“Perhaps you couldn’t, though I can imagine a good many other reactions to an offer like Anne’s. But don’t you think you are being a bit overnice?”
She frowned at him.
“You are a special case, you know, whether you wish to be or not. Anne must know the story of your aunt’s will?”
Reluctantly Aggie nodded.
“There you are, then. Your being forced to seek employment was a sad accident, and you are obviously destined for finer things than governessing.”
Still frowning, she looked down.
“Have you ever considered, Miss Hartington, what you will do when George and Alice are older? George will be off to school in a few years, and you have told me that you do not feel qualified to take complete charge of Alice’s education.”
“No, I’m not. I shall, ah, find another position.”
“Indeed. And another, and another. Most of them much less pleasant than this one, I wager. Is this the way you wish to spend your life?”
“My wishes don’t signify,” she retorted. “I haven’t any choice!”
“Ah, but you do. Now.”
Aggie looked up at him, perplexed. “You are telling me that I should accept her offer, take advantage of her kindness?”
“It is not taking advantage. In some cases it might be, but in yours, never.”
