by Holly Green
At the end of the class her mother called her over and introduced her to two other ladies.
‘I can’t believe you have never had a lesson before,’ one said. ‘You look so much at ease on the dance floor.’
‘Such a pretty girl,’ the other said. ‘She won’t want for beaux when she’s a little older.’
Her mother smiled and stroked her cheek. Angelina went home well satisfied.
Two weeks followed without any major disruption. Angelina’s efforts at drawing evoked mocking comments from Mary, until Mr Latimer told her that such remarks were unbecoming from one as talented as she was to someone less able. Mary relapsed into smug silence and Angelina seethed inwardly, but the peace was maintained. The French lessons continued to be a trial for both teacher and pupil, but almost in spite of herself Angelina learned a few phrases.
It was the music and the dancing that compensated for frustrations elsewhere. On her next visit Madame Corelli gave her and Mary a song to learn. It was called ‘The Last Rose of Summer’. On the following Thursday she told Mary that singing loudly did not make up for singing flat; but she clapped her hands at Angelina’s rendering, which she called true and delicate. When Mrs McBride came into the room at the end of the lesson, she said, ‘Your daughter has a delightful voice. It is a talent that should be encouraged.’
Next morning, Mrs McBride’s dressmaker appeared in the schoolroom to measure Angelina for a new frock and two days later she delivered a gorgeous creation in paleblue taffeta which, everyone agreed, suited her even better than the pink satin. On her mother’s next ‘at home’ afternoon, when she was entertaining several ladies of her acquaintance, Lizzie was given instructions, instead of the usual walk, to dress Angelina in the blue taffeta and send her down to the drawing room. Her appearance was greeted with exclamations of delight.
‘Oh, how pretty she is!’
‘Marguerite, she’s a beauty. Where have you been hiding her?’
Her mother lifted an eyebrow. ‘I felt it would be a mistake to introduce her to society before she was ready. Now, Angelina, I want you to sing for the ladies. Sing the song Madame Corelli taught you last week.’
Angelina’s knees were shaking but she took a breath and began to sing, and once the first note was out the sound of her own voice gave her confidence and she sang with real pleasure. The ladies applauded and insisted on an encore. When it was finished her mother did something unprecedented. She called Angelina to her and kissed her on the forehead. After that, she was rewarded with one of the delicious cream cakes, which were set out on the tea table, and sent back to the schoolroom.
The dancing classes helped to reinforce this newfound confidence. John always claimed her for the first and the last dance and got angry when another boy tried to take his place. She had noticed that the other girls vied for his attention, and she felt flattered. He was the oldest amongst them and, she decided, the best looking. When she wore the blue taffeta, he said, ‘I like your new dress. You look pretty.’
At their next music lesson, Mary declared triumphantly, ‘My papa is going to buy me a piano, and I am going to have a puppy dog for Christmas.’
All Angelina’s pleas fell on deaf ears. A dog would make a mess, require feeding and walking, and generally be a nuisance. Exactly how it happened that on the following Tuesday a jar of water was upset all over Mary’s almost finished painting was never satisfactorily established.
Next morning, Angelina refused point blank to speak a single word of French and insisted on playing with her dolls while Mademoiselle Duchovny tried vainly to engage her interest. At length, the teacher heard her murmur to her doll, ‘We don’t want to say silly French words, do we? Only stupid, ugly people talk like that.’ Mademoiselle left the room in great indignation and complained to Mrs McBride, who came up in a fury. She was no longer the indulgent mama who had kissed and praised her in front of her friends; this was the mama who had beaten her and committed her to the keeping of Miss Drake.
‘How dare you behave like this? I had begun to think that you had learned the proper conduct of a girl in your position.’ At moments like this her Irish accent, normally overlain by a carefully cultivated gentility, became dominant. ‘Now I see that it was all a pretence. You had better mend your ways, or I shall give you reason to regret it. You are not too old to have your backside tanned!’
Angelina, shaken, bowed her head and begged her mother’s pardon.
One Saturday afternoon, on her usual walk with Lizzie, they passed the small lake in the middle of the park. Three boys were sailing model yachts on it and Angelina recognised John.
‘Let’s go and watch what they are doing,’ she suggested.
‘If you like,’ Lizzie replied, ‘but don’t go too near the edge. The ground is muddy and you might slip.’
The boys took no notice of their approach, their attention focussed on the progress of one of the boats. That was not part of Angelina’s plan. She moved closer and said boldly, ‘Good afternoon, John.’
He glanced round, annoyed, and blushed. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ The tone was brusque. The other two boys, who did not attend the dancing classes, nudged each other and sniggered. ‘Come along, Angelina,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s too cold to stand around.’
‘But I don’t want …’ she began.
Lizzie took her hand firmly. ‘I said come along. We are going to finish our walk.’
Angelina hung back, but something in Lizzie’s expression told her that she was not going to win this particular argument. She twisted her head as they began to move away and called, ‘Goodbye, John. See you at dancing class.’
He did not respond, and the next Friday he allowed another boy to claim her for the first dance.
Next morning it was clear that Lizzie had developed a bad cold, and on Sunday, when Jane brought up the breakfast tray, she announced, ‘You’ll have to dress yourself this morning, Miss Angelina. Miss Findlay is not at all well and she is staying in bed.’
Lizzie left instructions for her to continue reading a story from ‘The Children’s Friend’, a periodical full of improving tales about children who withstood pain and sickness with fortitude through their faith in Jesus, but Angelina ignored them and spent the morning playing with her dolls. She found the shabby rag doll and tried to dress her in a frock from one of the much more expensive dolls she possessed, but the limp limbs would not go into the narrow sleeves and she gave up. Instead she wrapped her in a shawl and cradled her, singing softly, ‘Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly.’
At lunchtime, Jane said, ‘Your mama says I’ve to take you for your walk, so you’d better get yourself ready.’
Her tone was grudging and Angelina understood why. Normally Jane had Sunday afternoons off.
She smiled sweetly.
‘Very good, Jane. I’ll be ready.’
As soon as she had eaten, Angelina went to her room and put on the blue taffeta dress. When the maid came up to fetch her, she exclaimed, ‘Now, Miss Angelina, surely that’s not the right sort of dress to be wearing for a walk.’
‘Isn’t it?’ she responded innocently. ‘It is Sunday, so I thought I should put on my best clothes.’
‘I’m sure it’s not what Miss Findlay would have put you into,’ Jane said doubtfully.
‘Well, it’s too late to start all over again now,’ Angelina said. ‘Let’s go, shall we?’
Once in the park she headed for the clearing where she had seen the other children playing. They were not there, but she did not let that deter her.
‘Let’s play a game, Jane. It’s boring just walking.’
‘What sort of game?’
‘Let’s play hide and seek. You be “on” first. You have to close your eyes and count to a hundred and then come and find me, and after that I count and you hide. Now, close your eyes! And start counting.’
She darted away before the parlourmaid could argue and, looking back after a few paces, she saw that she was doing as she had been told. Angelina dodged through t
he bushes until she was sure she was out of sight in case Jane decided to peep, then she picked up her skirts and ran towards the lake. As she had hoped, John and the other two boys were there again with their model yachts. She arrived, panting, at their side.
‘I want to play. Can I sail one of your boats?’
The three looked at her in consternation. ‘You don’t know how,’ John said.
‘You can show me.’
‘Girls can’t do this sort of thing,’ one of the others said.
‘Why not?’
‘Because you’d be frightened of getting your feet wet or spoiling your clothes.’
‘No I wouldn’t!’ She pushed back her cape so that John could get the full benefit of the blue taffeta. ‘If this gets spoiled my mama will get me a new dress.’
John looked at her and then glanced round at the other two. ‘All right, prove it. See that yacht just out there? That one’s mine. It’s got stuck on something. You have to take a stick and give it a shove. Go on!’
She looked from him to the boat. It looked a long way out. ‘I can’t reach it there.’
‘I told you, you have to use a stick. Here, take this one.’
He held out a slender branch. She took hold of it, feeling it damp and slick through her glove.
‘Go on,’ he prompted.
Gingerly, she approached the edge of the pond. As Lizzie had warned, the ground was slippery with mud. She reached out with the branch, but she was a good foot short of the yacht. She stepped a little closer, feeling the damp oozing up around her boots. She still could not reach. Behind her she could hear the boys sniggering. She made a last, despairing lunge, her feet slipped, and a second later she was on her knees with water up to her waist.
John was at her side quickly, offering his hand. ‘I warned you. Girls can’t play games like this.’ But his expression showed that he was alarmed at the consequences of his teasing. He pulled her up and helped back onto the bank, where she stood dripping and shivering and choking back tears of humiliation.
‘Miss Angelina! There you are. Whatever have you been doing?’ Jane arrived out of breath and furious. ‘I knew you were up to something, so I came looking. A gentleman walking his dog told me he’d seen you heading this way. Otherwise I might have been looking for you all day. Now look at you! Look at your nice dress. Your mama is going to have something to say when we get back! Come along now. We’d better get you home before you catch your death. And you – ’ she turned her attention to John ‘– you should know better!’
She grabbed Angelina by the hand and dragged her unceremoniously back along the path. By the time they reached home, Angelina was sobbing. Jane marched her through the front door and ordered, ‘Stand there till I fetch your mama. I can’t take you into the drawing room in this state.’
In a very short space of time Mrs McBride came out of the drawing room and gave a cry of horror at Angelina’s appearance.
‘I found her by the lake, ma’am,’ Jane said. ‘She was playing with some boys, trying to get one of their boats ashore and she’d fallen in. It’s a marvel she hasn’t drowned herself.’
‘Playing with boys? And in that dress? Why is she wearing that dress?’
‘She put it on herself, ma’am. I didn’t like to insist she took it off.’
‘Insist? You foolish girl. You were in charge. If you had any doubts you should have consulted me. Angelina, go to your room. Take off that dress, which you have now ruined, and wait for me. You can expect to be severely punished.’
In her bedroom, Angelina shivered with cold and apprehension. Her worst fears were realised when her mother came in carrying the cane.
‘Over the back of that chair!’
Her shift was pulled up, her bare buttocks exposed, and she was subjected to the most severe beating she had ever experienced. She pressed her face into the cushions and stifled her cries. When it was over she was sent to bed, where she stayed without any supper.
Later, Lizzie came into her room, her voice thick with catarrh.
‘Oh, Angelina! What on earth possessed you? You must have known how angry your mama would be.’
‘I wanted to play,’ she mumbled.
‘You could have played with those girls a few weeks back, but you chose not to. I think you just wanted John to take notice of you. Good girls don’t go chasing after boys. Don’t you know that? And it doesn’t do any good, anyway. Men don’t like women who run after them.’
‘I don’t care! I hate him anyway.’
‘You shouldn’t say things like that, but listen to me. If you want to go on with your music lessons and your dancing lessons, you are going to have to show your mama that you are really sorry for behaving so badly and you will never do such a naughty thing again. Do you think you can do that?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘Well, I think you had better make up your mind to try your hardest otherwise – ’ Lizzie broke off and when she spoke again there were tears in her voice ‘– otherwise I do not know what is going to happen to you.’
Over a long night, while pain prevented her from sleeping except in snatches, Angelina resolved to make a fresh effort to propitiate her mother. When she came into the schoolroom next morning, she knelt down and murmured, ‘Please, Mama, I am very sorry for what I did yesterday, and I promise that I will be a good girl from now on. Will you forgive me?’
Mrs McBride looked down at her sternly. ‘That will depend on your conduct. You will apply yourself to your drawing and your French lessons as well as to your music, and if I feel that you are sufficiently reformed, you may go on with the dancing lessons. If I have any further reason to complain of you, the results will be extremely serious. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, Mama.’
‘Very well. You may get up and get on with your lessons.’
For a week, Angelina was a model pupil, even disregarding Mary’s spiteful jibes about her drawing and making a genuine effort to speak French. On Thursday, Madame Corelli began to teach them how to read music and lavished praise and encouragement on her. As a result, she was permitted to return to her dancing class.
At the end of the class, Mrs Fairchild made an announcement.
‘As next week will be the last lesson before Christmas, we are going to have a proper ball. It will be held in the evening and I am inviting all the parents to join in and perhaps bring older brothers or sisters along. It will be a special occasion and I am sure you will all show yourselves at your best.’
Angelina looked forward to the ball with mixed feelings. John had studiously ignored her during the last class, and she felt that she would not be able to bear it if he continued to do so. On the other hand, she knew that she was now one of the best dancers and also one of the prettiest and she looked forward to showing herself off. She hoped she might be given a new dress for the event, but the blue taffeta had been cleaned and repaired and her mother declared it ‘perfectly serviceable’, so she had to make the best of it.
When the night came, Lizzie was left to dress her and do her hair without her mother’s attentions, but when she went downstairs to join her parents, her father exclaimed, ‘Well, who is this delightful young lady? Surely, we have a princess amongst us.’
‘Don’t be foolish,’ her mother said with some asperity. ‘This little madam has a good enough opinion of herself. The last thing she needs is that kind of flattery.’
Nevertheless, Angelina hugged the words to her as the hansom cab took them to the Fairchilds’ house.
The big room was crowded with people. John was there with his parents, and she tried to catch his eye, without success. She would have gone over to speak to him, but her mother insisted on her staying by her side.
Instead of playing the piano herself, as she usually did, Mrs Fairchild had employed a trio of piano, violin and cello, who were playing softly as the guests arrived, and Angelina thrilled at the sound.
When the first dance was announced, she waited tensely for John to appro
ach her, but he chose one of the other girls instead. Mortified, she accepted the invitation of another of her usual partners. The dance was the polonaise, one that she knew showed her off to best advantage, and as she danced she forgot John and began to enjoy herself. She was used to hearing flattering comments from the watching ladies, but this time she caught one that disturbed her slightly.
‘Such a pretty little thing! But don’t you wonder how it is that her parents, who are both dark, managed to produce such a golden-haired child?’
As the evening progressed some of the adults joined in the dancing and the floor became crowded. Angelina did not want for eager partners, but in spite of all her efforts to attract his attention, John continued to ignore her. Mary was there, in a new dress, wearing a beautiful aquamarine pendant on a gold chain. Angelina saw her showing it off to her little coterie of friends. Then, just before the supper dance was announced, Mary somehow persuaded her mother to introduce her to John’s parents, so that he had no option but to offer her his arm for the dance and then take her into supper, which had been laid out in another room on the floor below. Seething with resentment, Angelina scarcely spoke to her own escort and all through the meal she watched her rival chatting animatedly and saw John respond. Then she heard a burst of laughter and saw that they were both looking in her direction. It was easy to guess that John had told her the story of Angelina’s mishap. Mary beckoned to two of her friends, and they whispered together and began to giggle and point towards her, and from their gestures Angelina knew that they were laughing at the fact that she was wearing a dress which had been damaged and refurbished. It was insupportable. Ignoring her partner, and her mother’s warning looks, she marched across the floor to confront them.
‘What are you laughing at?’
‘What, us? Laughing?’ Mary pretended to be unable to stifle her giggles.
‘Yes, you are!’ Angelina persisted. She turned on John. ‘What have you been telling them?’
