A Very Naughty Girl
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“Now then, it is my turn to speak,” said Jasper. “I tell you what it is, Eve; you are about the biggest goose that was ever born in this world. Who would compare that stupid, rough old ranch with this lovely, magnificent house? And it is your own, Eve – or rather it will be your own. I took a good stare at the Squire, and I do not believe he will live to be very old; and whenever he dies you are to take possession – you and I together, Eve love – and out will go her ladyship, and out will go proud Miss Audrey. That will be a fine day, darling – a day worth living for.”
“Yes,” said Evelyn slowly; “and then we’ll alter things. We’ll make the Castle something like the ranch. We’ll get over some of our friends, and they shall live in the house. Mr. and Mrs. Petrie, who keep the egg-farm not a mile from the ranch, and Mr. Thomas Longchamp and Pete and Dick and Tom and Michael. I told them all when I was going away that when I was mistress of the Castle they should come, and we’ll go on much as we went on at the ranch. If mothery up in heaven can see me she will be glad. But, Jasper, why do you speak in that scornful way of my cousin Audrey? I think she is very beautiful. I think she is quite the most beautiful girl I have ever looked at. As to her being stately, she cannot help being stately. I wish I could walk like her, and talk like her, and speak like her; I do, Jasper – I do really.”
“Let me see,” said Jasper in a contemplative tone. “You are learning to love her, ain’t you?”
“I don’t love easily. I love my own darling mothery, who is not dead at all, for she is in heaven with father; and I love you, Jasper, and my uncle Edward.”
“My word! and why him?”
“I cannot help it; I love him already, and I’ll love him more and more the longer I see him and the more I know him. My father must have been like that – a gentleman – a perfect gentleman. Oh! I was happy at the ranch, and mothery was like no one else on the wide earth, but it gave me a sort of quiver down my spine when Uncle Edward took my hand, and when he kissed me. He is like what father was. Had father lived I’d have spent all my days here, and I’d have been perhaps quite as graceful as Audrey, and nearly as beautiful.”
“You will never be like her, so you need not think it. You are squat like your mother, and you ain’t got a decent feature in your face except your eyes, and even they are only big, not dark; and your hair is skimpy and your face white. You are a sort of mix’um-gather’um – a sort of betwixt-and-between – neither very fair nor very dark, neither very short nor very tall. You are thick-set, just the very image of your mother, and you will always be thick-set and always mix’um-gather’um as long as you live. There! I have spoken. I ain’t going to be afraid of you. You had better get into bed now, for it is late. You want your beauty-sleep, and you won’t get it unless you are quick. Now march! Put on your night-dress and step into bed.”
“I have got to say my prayers first,” said Evelyn, “and – ” She paused and looked full at her maid. “I have got to say something else. If you talk like that I won’t love you any more. You are not to do it. I won’t have it.”
“Won’t she, then?” said Jasper. Her whole manner changed. “And have I hurt her – have I – the little dear? Come to me, my darling. Why, you are all trembling! Did you think I meant a word I said? Don’t you know that you are the jewel of my eyes and the core of my heart and all the rest? Did your mother leave you to me for nothing, and would I ever leave you, sweetest and best? And if it is squat you are, there is no one like you for determination and fire of spirit. Eh, now, come to my arms and I’ll rock the bitterness out of you, for it is puzzled you are, and fretted you are, and you shall not be – no, you shall not be either one or the other ever again while old Jasper lives.”
Evelyn’s eyes, which had flashed an almost ugly fire, now softened. She looked at Jasper as if she meant to resist her. Then she wavered, and came almost totteringly across the room, and the next moment the strange woman had clasped the girl to her embrace and was rocking her backwards and forwards, Evelyn’s head lying on her breast just as if she were a baby.
“Now then, that’s better,” said Jasper. “I’ll undress you as though we were back again on the ranch, and when you are snug and safe in your little white bed we’ll have a bit of fun.”
“Fun!” said Evelyn. “What?”
“Don’t you know how you like a stolen supper? I have got chocolate here, and a little pot, and a jug of cream, and a saucepan, and I’ll make a rich cup for you and another for myself; and here’s a box of cakes, all sorts and very good. While you are sipping your chocolate I’ll take off Miss Audrey and Lady Frances for you. The door is locked; no one can see us. We’ll be as snug as snug can be, and we’ll have our fun just as if we were back at the ranch.”
Evelyn was now all laughter and high spirits. She had no idea of restraining herself. She called Jasper her honey and her honey-pot, and kissed the good woman several times. She superintended the making of the chocolate with eager words and many directions. Finally, a cup of the rich beverage was handed to her, and she sipped it, luxuriously curled up against her snowy pillows, and ate the sweet cakes, and watched Jasper with happy eyes.
“So it is Miss Audrey you’d like to take after?” said Jasper. “You think you are not a patch on her. To be sure not – wait and we’ll see.”
In an instant Jasper had transformed her features to a comical resemblance of Audrey’s. She spoke in mincing tones, with just sufficient likeness to Audrey to cause Evelyn to scream with mirth. She took light, quick steps across the room, and imitated Audrey’s very words. All of a sudden she changed her manner. She now resembled Miss Sinclair, putting on the slightly precise language of the governess, adjusting her shoulders and arranging her hands as she had seen Miss Sinclair do for a brief moment that evening. Her personation of Miss Sinclair was as good as her personation of Audrey, and Evelyn became so excited that she very nearly spilt her chocolate. But her crowning delight came when all of a sudden, without the slightest warning, Jasper became Lady Frances herself. She now sailed rather than walked across the apartment; her tones were stately and slow; her manner was the sort which might inspire awe; her very words were those of Lady Frances. But the delighted maid believed that she had a further triumph in store, for, with a quick change of mien, she now had the audacity to personate the Squire himself; but in one instant, like a flash, Evelyn was out of bed. She put down her chocolate-cup and rushed towards Jasper.
“The others as much as you like,” she said, “but not Uncle Ned. You dare not. You sha’n’t. I’ll turn you away if you do. I’ll hate you if you do. The others over and over again – they are lovely, splendid, grand – it puts heart in me to see you – but not Uncle Ned.”
Jasper looked in astonishment at the little girl.
“So you love him as much as that already?” she said. “Well, as you please, of course.”
“Don’t be cross, Jasper,” said Evelyn. “I can stand all the others; I can even like them. I told Audrey to-night how splendidly you can mimic, and you shall mimic her to her face when I know her better. Oh, it is killing – it is killing! But I draw the line at Uncle Ned.”
CHAPTER V. – FRANK’S EYES
Evelyn did not get up to breakfast the following morning. Breakfast at the Castle was a rather stately affair. A loud, musical gong sounded to assemble the family at a quarter to nine; then all those who were not really ill were expected to appear in the small chapel, where the Squire read prayers morning after morning before the assembled household. After prayers, visitors and family alike trooped into the comfortable breakfast-room, where a merry and hearty meal ensued. To be absent from breakfast was to insure Lady Frances’s displeasure; she had no patience with lazy people. And as to lazy girls, her horror of them was so great that Audrey would rather bear the worst cold possible than announce to her mother that she was too ill to appear. Evelyn’s absence, therefore, was commented on with a very grave expression of face by both the Squire and his wife.
“I must speak to her,” said Lady Frances. “It is the first morning, and she does not understand our ways, but it must not occur again.”
“You will not be too hard on the child, dear,” said her husband. “Remember she has never had the advantage of your training.”
“Poor little creature!” said Lady Frances. “That, indeed, my dear Edward, is plain to be seen.”
She bridled very slightly. Lady Frances knew that there was not a more correct trainer of youth in the length and breadth of the county than herself. Audrey, who looked very bright and handsome that morning, ventured to glance at her mother.
“Perhaps Evelyn is dressed and does not know that we are at breakfast,” she said. “May I go to her room and find out?”
“No, Audrey, not this morning. I shall go to see Evelyn presently. By the way, I hope you are ready for your visitors?”
“I suppose so, mother. I don’t really quite know who are coming.”
“The Jervices, of course – Henrietta, Juliet, and their brothers; there are also the Claverings, Mary and Sophie. I think those are the only young people, but with six in addition to you and Evelyn, you will have your hands full, Audrey.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” replied Audrey. “It will be fun. – You will help me all you can, won’t you, Jenny?”
“Certainly, dear,” replied Miss Sinclair.
“It is the greatest possible comfort to me to have you in the house, Miss Sinclair,” said Lady Frances, now turning to the pretty young governess. “You have not yet had an interview with Evelyn, have you?”
“I talked to her a little last night,” replied Miss Sinclair. “She seems to me to be a child with a good deal of character.”
“She is like no child I ever met before,” said Lady Frances, with a shudder. “I must frankly say I never looked forward with any pleasure to her arrival, but my worst fears did not picture so thoroughly objectionable a little girl.”
“Oh, come, Frances – come!” said her husband.
“My dear Edward, I do not give myself away as a rule; but it is just as well that Miss Sinclair should see how much depends on her guidance of the poor little girl, and that Audrey should know how objectionable she is, and how necessary it is for us all to do what we can to alter her ways. The first step, of course, is to get rid of that terrible woman whom she calls Jasper.”
“But, mother,” said Audrey, “that would hurt Evelyn’s feelings very much – she is so devoted to Jasper.”
“You must leave the matter to me, Audrey,” said Lady Frances, rising. “You may be sure that I will do nothing really cruel or unkind. But, my dear, it is as well that you should learn sooner or later that spoiling a person is never true kindness.”
Lady Frances left the room as she spoke; and Audrey, turning to her governess, said a few words to her, and they also went slowly in the direction of the conservatory.
“What do you think of her, Jenny?” asked the girl.
“Just what I said, dear. The child is full of originality and strong feelings, but of course, brought up as she has been, she will be a trial to your mother.”
“That is just it. Mother has never seen any one in the least like Evelyn. She won’t understand her; and if she does not there will be mischief.”
“Evelyn must learn to subdue her will to that of Lady Frances,” said Miss Sinclair. “You and I, Audrey, will try to be very patient with her; we will put up with her small impertinences, knowing that she scarcely means them; and we will try to make things as happy for her as we can.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Audrey. “I cannot see why she should be rude and chuff and disagreeable. I don’t altogether dislike her. She certainly amuses me. But she will not have a very happy time at the Castle until she knows her place.”
“That is it,” said Miss Sinclair. “She has evidently been spoken to most injudiciously – told that she is practically mistress of the place, and that she may do as she likes here. Hence the result. But at the worst, Audrey, I am certain of one thing.”
“What is that, Jenny? How wise you look, and how kind!”
“I believe your father will be able to manage her, whoever else fails. Did you not notice how her eyes followed him round the room last night, and how, whenever he spoke to her, her voice softened and she always replied in a gentle tone?”
“No, I did not,” answered Audrey. “Oh dear! it is very puzzling, and I feel rather cross myself. I cannot imagine why that horrid little girl should ever own this lovely place. It is not that I am jealous of her – I assure you I am anything but that – but it hurts me to think that one who can appreciate things so little should come in for our lovely property.”
“Well, darling, let us hope she will be quite a middle-aged woman before she possesses Castle Wynford,” said the governess. “And now, what about your young friends?”
Audrey slipped her hand inside Miss Sinclair’s arm, and the two paced the conservatory, talking long and earnestly.
Meanwhile Evelyn, having partaken of a rich and unwholesome breakfast of pastry, game-pie, and chocolate, condescended slowly to rise. Jasper waited on her hand and foot. A large fire burned in the grate; no servant had been allowed into the apartment since Evelyn had taken possession of it the night before, and it already presented an untidy and run-to-seed appearance. White ashes were piled high in the untidy grate; dust had collected on the polished steel of the fire-irons; dust had also mounted to the white marble mantelpiece covered with velvet of turquoise-blue, but neither Evelyn nor Jasper minded these things in the least.
“And now, pet,” said the maid, “what dress will you wear?”
“I had better assert myself as soon as possible,” said Evelyn. “Mothery told me I must. So I had better put on something striking. I saw that horrid Audrey walking past just now with her governess; she had on a plain, dark-blue serge. Why, any dairymaid might dress like that. Don’t you agree with me, Jasper?”
“There is your crimson velvet,” said Jasper. “I bought it for you in Paris. You look very handsome in it.”
“Oh, come, Jasper,” said her little mistress, “you said I was squat last night.”
“The rich velvet shows up your complexion,” persisted Jasper. “Put it on, dear; you must make a good impression.”
Accordingly Evelyn allowed herself to be arrayed in a dress of a curious shade between red and crimson. Jasper encircled her waist with a red silk sash; and being further decked with numerous rows of colored beads, varying in hue from the palest green to the deepest rose, the heiress pronounced herself ready to descend.
“And where will you go first, dear?” said Jasper.
“I am going straight to find my Uncle Edward. I have a good deal to say to him. And there is mother’s note; I think it is all about you. I will give it to Uncle Edward to give to my Aunt Frances. I don’t like my Aunt Frances at all, so I will see Uncle Edward first.”
Accordingly Evelyn, in her heavy red dress, her feet encased in black shoes and white stockings, ran down-stairs, and having inquired in very haughty tones of a footman where the Squire was likely to be found, presently opened the door of his private sanctum and peeped in.
Even Lady Frances seldom cared to disturb the Squire when he was in his den, as he called it. When he raised his eyes, therefore, and saw Evelyn’s pale face, her light flaxen hair falling in thin strands about her ears, her big, somewhat light-brown eyes staring at him, he could not help giving a start of annoyance.
“Oh, Uncle Ned, you are not going to be cross too?” said the little girl. She skipped gaily into the room, ran up to him, put one arm round his neck, and kissed him.
The Squire looked in a puzzled way at the queer little figure. Like most men, he knew little or nothing of the details of dress; he was only aware that his own wife always looked perfect, that Audrey was the soul of grace, and that Miss Sinclair presented a very pretty appearance. He was now, therefore, only uncomfortable in Evelyn’s presence, not in the least aware of what was wrong with her, but being quite certain that Lady Frances would not approve of her at all.
“I have come first to you, Uncle Edward,” said Evelyn, “because we must transact some business together.”
“Transact some business!” repeated her uncle. “What long words you use, little girl!”
“I have heard my dear mothery talk about transacting business, so I have picked up the phrase,” replied Evelyn in thoughtful tones. “Well, Uncle Edward, shall we transact? It is best to have things on a business footing; don’t you think so – eh?”
“I think that you are a very strange little person,” said her uncle. “You are too young to know anything of business matters; you must leave those things to your aunt and to me.”
“But I am your heiress, don’t forget. This room will be mine, and all that big estate outside, and the whole of this gloomy old house when you die. Is not that so?”
“It is so, my child.” The Squire could not help wincing when Evelyn pronounced his house gloomy. “But at the same time, my dear Evelyn, things of that sort are not spoken about – at least not in England.”
“Mothery and I spoke a lot about it; we used to sit for whole evenings by the fireside and discuss the time when I should come in for my property. I mean to make changes when my time comes. You don’t mind my saying so, do you?”
“I object to the subject altogether, Evelyn.” The Squire rose and faced his small heiress. “In England we don’t talk of these things, and now that you have come to England you must do as an English girl and a lady would. On your father’s side you are a lady, and you must allow your aunt and me to train you in the observances which constitute true ladyhood in England.”
Evelyn’s brown eyes flashed a very angry fire.
“I don’t wish to be different from my mother,” she said. “My mother was one of the most splendid women on earth. I wish to be exactly like her. I will not be a fine lady – not for anybody.”
“Well, dear, I respect you for being fond of your mother.”
“Fond of her!” said Evelyn; and a strange and intensely tragic look crossed the queer little face.
She was quite silent for nearly a minute, and Edward Wynford watched her with curiosity and pain mingled in his face. Her eyes reminded him of the brother whom he had so truly loved; in every other respect Evelyn was her mother over again.
“I suppose,” she said after a pause, “although I may not speak about what lies before me in the future, and you must die some time, Uncle Edward, that I may at least ask you to supply me with the needful?”
“The what, dear?”
“The needful. Chink, you know – chink.”
Squire Wynford sank slowly back again into his chair.
“You might ask me to sit down,” said Evelyn, “seeing that the room and all it contains will be – ” Here she broke off abruptly. “I beg your pardon,” she continued. “I really and truly do not want you to die a minute before your rightful hour. We all have our hour – at least mothery said so – and then go we must, whether we like it or not; so, as you must go some day, and I must – Oh dear! I am always being drawn up now by that horrid wish of yours that I should try to be an English girl. I will try to be when I am in your presence, for I happen to like you; but as for the others, well, we shall see. But, Uncle Ned, what about the chink? Perhaps you call it money; anyhow, it means money. How much may I have out of what is to be all my own some day to spend now exactly as I like?”
“You can have a fair sum, Evelyn. But, first of all, tell me what you want it for and how you mean to spend it.”
“I have all kinds of wants,” began Evelyn. “Jasper had plenty of money to spend on me until I came here. She manages very well indeed, does Jasper. We bought lots of things in Paris – this dress, for instance. How do you like my dress, Uncle Ned?”
“I am not capable of giving an opinion.”
“Aren’t you really? I expect you are about stunned. You never thought a girl like me could dress with such taste. Do you mind my speaking to Audrey, Uncle Ned, about her dress? It does not seem to me to be correct.”
“What is wrong with it?” asked the Squire.
“It is so awfully dowdy; it is not what a lady ought to wear. Ladies ought to dress in silks and satins and brocades and rich embroidered robes. Mothery always said so, and mothery surely knew. But there, I am idling you, and I suppose you are busy directing the management of your estates, which are to be – Oh, there! I am pulled up again. I want my money for Jasper, for one thing. Jasper has got some poor relations, and she and I between us support them.”
“She and you between you,” said the Squire, “support your maid’s relations!”
“Oh dear me, Uncle Ned, how stiffly you speak! But surely it does not matter; I can do what I like with my own.”
“Listen to me, Evelyn,” said her uncle. “You are only a very young girl; your mind may in some ways be older than your body, but you are nothing more than a child.”
“I am not such a child as I look. I was sixteen a month ago. I am sixteen, and that is not very young.”
“We must agree to differ,” said her uncle. “You are young and you are not wise; and although there is some money which is absolutely your own coming from the ranch in Tasmania, yet I have the charge of it until you come of age.”
“When I come of age I suppose I shall be very, very rich?”
“Not at all. You will be my care, and I will allow you what is proper, but as long as I live you will only have the small sum which will come to you yearly from the rent of the ranch. As the ranch may possibly be sold some day, we may be able to realize a nice little capital for you; but you are too young to know much of these things at present. The matter in hand, therefore, is all-sufficient. I will allow you as pocket-money five pounds a quarter. I give precisely the same sum to Audrey. Your aunt will buy your clothes, and you will live here and be treated in all respects as my daughter. Now, that is my side of the bargain.”
Evelyn’s face turned white.
“Five pounds a quarter!” she said. “Why, that is downright penury!”
“No, dear; for the use you require it for it is downright riches. But, be it riches or be it penury, you get no more.”
Evelyn looked full at her uncle; her uncle looked back at her.
“Come here, little girl,” he said.
Her heart was beating with furious anger, but there was something in his tone which subdued her. She went slowly to him, and he put his arm round her waist.
“Your eyes are like – very like – one whom I loved best on earth.”
“You mean my father,” said the girl.
“Your father. He left you to me to care for, and to love and to train – to train for a high position eventually.”
“He left me to mothery; you are quite mistaken there. Mothery has trained me; father left me to her. She often and often and often told me so.”
“That is true, dear. While your mother lived she had the prior claim over you, but now you belong to me.”
“Yes,” said Evelyn. She felt fascinated. She snuggled comfortably inside her uncle’s arm; her strange brown eyes were fixed on his face.
“I give you,” he continued, “the love and care of a father, but I expect a return.”
“What? I don’t mind. I have two diamonds – beauties. You shall have them to make into studs; you shall, because I – yes, I love you.”
“I don’t want your diamonds, my little girl, but I want other things – your love and your obedience. I want you, if you like me, and if you like your Aunt Frances, and if you like your cousin, to follow in our steps, for we have been brought up to approve of courteous manners and quiet dress and gentle speech; and I want that brain of yours, Evelyn, to be educated to high and lofty thoughts. I want you to be a grand woman, worthy of your father, and I expect this return from you for all that I am going to do for you.”
“Are you going to teach me your own self?” asked Evelyn.
“You can come to me sometimes for a talk, but it is impossible for me to be your instructor. You will have a suitable governess.”
“Jasper knows a lot of things. Perhaps she could teach both Audrey and me. She might if you paid her well. She has got some awfully poor relations; she must have lots of money, poor Jasper must.”