The Austen Girls
Page 18
‘Well, Miss V,’ he said. My father’s temper tantrums never lasted long. ‘You certainly have more common sense than the rest of them.’ By this he meant not only my mother and Jane but also my three boisterous brothers.
‘You at least are quiet and obedient,’ he said. ‘And I know,’ he added a little more kindly, ‘that you’ll miss that wretched little hound of yours. What’s his name, again? Is it Splash?’
‘Dash! It’s Dash!’
Upon hearing his name, Dash sat up straight and raised his tiny chin as if to look my father in the eye. Dash! He was such a good dog, so well trained, so quiet and clean. He really was a comfort to me as we went about our daily business at Arborfield Hall: the shrubbery walk, piano practice, needlework. When I was sitting behind the curtain in the library with a volume of Sir Walter’s in my lap, it was Dash who would first hear and warn me of the tread of the housemaid with the coal scuttle, giving me time to hop up neatly and put the forbidden book back. It was Dash who kissed me before I went to sleep at night.
But what did my father mean about my ‘missing’ Dash? Surely he wasn’t going to be sent back to Arborfield Hall? Before I could ask, he spoke again.
‘Well, young Dash!’ My father prodded Dash with his cane. ‘How are you going to enjoy being a royal dog? That’s a distinguished canine band to be joining, and no mistake!’
I was speechless. What could he mean? I felt the shameful crimson rising up my neck, as it so often did.
‘Oh, Lord!’ he said as he saw me blush. ‘Confound it! Can it be that my dear wife has failed to explain?’
He knocked his cane once or twice on the floor in his exasperation. His eyes always seemed to flash theatrically, like those of the enchanter we had seen in last year’s pantomime. ‘Miss V, my apologies, but I thought you knew. The dog is to be your gift to the Other Party, of course.’
‘But …’
My breath failed me. Give away my dog? To this unknown girl? I gripped my hands tighter together. Dash could sense that something was wrong. He knew his own name, the dear, dear hound.
‘It’s just a senseless brute, Miss V,’ he said, with vexation. ‘And it’s of the utmost importance that you make a friend of this … erm, this child you’re going to meet today,’ he went on.
Despite my efforts, I felt a fat tear welling up in my eye. I tried to pretend it wasn’t there. I felt utterly incapable of reaching for my handkerchief.
‘Oh, come, come, my dear!’ he said, pulling out his own handkerchief and shoving it roughly into my hand.
‘Perhaps I have miscalculated,’ he said quietly, as if to himself, and once again his gaze seemed drawn away from me, out of the window. I felt sore inside. I loved Dash desperately, but then I loved my father even more.
‘I thought that you would be a good girl, Miss V,’ he said. ‘Equal to this task. You can do it, eh? You can give up your dog in order to make a fine first impression? The party has asked me specifically for a dog, exactly like this one! Come, come, don’t let me down. Otherwise I’ll have to send you back to the country and find myself a new Miss V from somewhere else.’ He gestured vaguely out of the window, as if daughters were to be picked up anywhere. ‘And I’m sure I won’t like the new one half as much.’
Now his attention was trained back upon me, like a beam of light concentrated by a prism glass. As always, when he really looked at me, I felt the warmth of his gaze.
‘You’re a brave little miss, aren’t you?’ he said cajolingly. ‘And you know that it’s your duty to win this little girl over, don’t you? To make friends with her?’
Reluctantly, I sniffed and nodded.
‘My post depends on you, Miss V!’
My father was the comptroller to the Duchess of Kent, the princess’s mother. He often spoke proudly of his position in a royal household, and the advantages and connections it brought to us.
‘You know that the Duchess of Kent is our patroness? And that’s why we can live at Arborfield Hall and drive in a carriage, and why in a day or two, when I have a moment and when one or two bills have been dealt with, I’ll be able to buy you another little puppy to replace that one.’
The thought of another puppy was horrible.
‘But I love Dash,’ I coughed. ‘And he loves me!’
‘You’ll have another puppy, my dear, but the first chance to impress the princess will never come again,’ he said. ‘I regret it, but it really is for the best that you give her your dog.’
At that he folded his arms, throwing himself back on his seat and returning his gaze to the passing fields and damp meadows.
And so, as we sat in miserable silence, all thoughts of home wiped from my mind by this catastrophe, my hand crept down again to rest on Dash’s head. I tried not to think of his life with another girl. I tried to not think of the wet, whiskery kisses he gave me, nor of his cushion, his bowl or his little felt toy mouse that I had last night packed lovingly into the corner of my trunk.
How could I endure our stay in this horrible place where Dash, my only friend, was to be taken from me? How could I possibly return to Arborfield Hall without him? And how on earth could I make friends with his thief?
Look out for more exciting historical drama from Lucy Worsley
Mary Tudor’s world is turned upside down when her father, Henry the Eighth, declares that his marriage to her mother is over and Mary isn’t really his child. Banished from court and alone for the first time in her life, Mary must fight for what is rightfully hers.
Look out for more exciting historical drama from Lucy Worsley
Eliza Camperdowne is young and headstrong, but she knows her duty. She must one day marry a man who is very grand and very rich. But fate has other plans. When she becomes a maid of honour, she’s drawn into the thrilling, treacherous court of Henry the Eighth …
About the author
Lucy Worsley is Chief Curator at Historic Royal Palaces, the independent charity that runs the Tower of London, Hampton Court Palace and other sites, which attract more than four million visitors a year. Lucy also presents history programmes for the BBC. But her favourite out of all the things she does is writing historical novels for young people.
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First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
This electronic edition published in 2020 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Text copyright © Lucy Worsley, 2020
Illustrations copyright © Joe Berger, 2020
Lucy Worsley has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work
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ISBN: PB: 978-1-5266-0545-0; eBook: 978-1-4088-8204-7
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