During the days that elapsed between the purchase of the pale blue silk
and the grand fete at Mrs Hazlitt's school, it may well be supposed
that Brenda Carlton was very busy. Not Penelope at school, not any of
those girls who were to take the characters of Tennyson's "Dream of Fair
Women," were as much occupied as this young woman. She had so much to
think of and to do; for she had not only to see about her own toilette,
which meant frequent visits to Madame Declasse's, at Rocheford, and
therefore frequent demands for the pony trap, but she had also to help
the girls to make up their pink muslins.
She was sorry to have to dress her pupils in a colour she knew in her
heart of hearts could not possibly suit them, but she argued with her
own conscience that no possible dress that she could devise would make
the Misses Amberley look well and, that being the case, they might just
as soon be frightful as not. She had no pricks of conscience with
regard to this matter. The little red-haired girls were useful to her
for the time being. She intended to have a delightful outing at the
seaside and, in order to effect this, she must keep the Reverend Josiah
in the best of humours until her grand month was over.
This was quite easy to accomplish as long as the girls themselves were
pleased. But Brenda was by no means a fool, and she judged by certain
remarks of Nina's, who was the most innocent of the confiding three,
that already a few ugly little suspicions with regard to their governess
were animating their small breasts. In short, they were the sort of
girls who would very soon discover for themselves the wickedness of this
wicked world. They were not specially amiable; there was nothing
whatever attractive about them. When once they discovered Brenda, as
Brenda really was, her position in the Reverend Josiah's establishment
would come to an end.
Well, she intended to secure another home before then. There was a
certain rich young man whom she hoped to attract while at
Marshlands-on-the-Sea. When once engaged to him, it mattered little to
her what any of the Amberleys thought about her. Still, the present
fortnight must be used to the best advantage, and Brenda took great care
how she trimmed the white hate. She made them look exceedingly pretty
and stylish, for she had wonderful fingers which could contrive and
arrange the very simplest materials as though by magic. The pink muslin
frocks were also made to suit each girl. It did not matter if they were
a little skimpy; the girls were all young, and Nina, in particular,
ought still to wear very short skirts.
"No, Nina," said her governess, "I am not going to give you flounces,
but I shall put a couple of false tucks upon the muslin skirt."
"I'd much rather have flounces," said Nina, who was nearly in tears. "I
like little tiny frills, they are so pretty, and you have given them to
Fanchon and to Josephine."
"That is the very reason, _cherie_, why you must not have them," was
Brenda's remark. "The washing will be altogether too expensive. Your
poor, dear papa, who is taking no holiday himself, cannot possibly
afford the laundry bills which I shall have to send him if all your
dresses are flounced."
This argument seemed conclusive, and Nina had to be satisfied--that is,
she pretended to be, but there was her little scheme of vengeance
working up in her small brain, and she intended to talk it over with her
sisters on the eighth of July, that long, long, wonderful day when
beautiful Brenda would not be with them, and when they could do exactly
as they liked.
Clever as she was, Brenda could not guess the thoughts which filled her
little pupil's brain, and she was too much interested in her own affairs
just then to trouble herself much about so insignificant a young person.
Meanwhile, time flew as it always does when one is busy, and Brenda's
own delicate and beautiful dress arrived at the rectory two days before
she was to wear it. Now, Brenda did not want any of her pupils to see
her in this dress, and above all things, she did not wish the Reverend
Josiah to perceive that she--that absolutely dependent orphan--could
leave his establishment attired in pale blue silk. She trusted much to
the white serge coat, which she had ordered, to cover the silk.
Nevertheless, she knew she must run some dangers. As a matter of fact,
she had only spent about thirty shillings on each of her pupils, and
had, therefore, purloined from the sum which had been given her for
their clothes four pounds ten wherewith to line her own pockets. This
she hoped would never be discovered, nor would it have been, had Nina
not been quite so sharp, and Fanchon so really discontented with the
quality of the muslin dress she was to wear at Marshlands-on-the-Sea.
"Please, please, Brenda," said Fanchon, on the day before the great
fete, "won't you put on your pale blue silk, and let us see you in it?
It has come, I know, for I was in the garden when the carrier arrived
with that great box from Madame Declasse's. Father was with us, and he
asked what could be in the box."
"And what did you say, dear?"
"I said it was a box full of pots for making jam--that you had bought
the pots the day we were at Rocheford, as you thought it would be such a
good thing for cook to turn all the gooseberries into jam while we were
at the seaside."
"What a very clever little Fanchon you are!" said Brenda, looking very
attentively at her pupil. "And what did papa say--dear innocent papa?"
"Oh, he was ever so pleased--he loves gooseberry jam, and said that we
must on no account strip the trees beforehand, so as to leave plenty for
cook to boil down to put into the pots."
"What a mercy he didn't feel the box!" was Brenda's remark. "I do
think, Fanchon, you are very clever--very wicked, of course, and I
suppose you ought to be punished. But there--you meant well, didn't
you?"
"I suppose I did," said Fanchon, raising her pale blue eyes and fixing
them on her governess' face.
Brenda looked back at the girl. She heartily wished that Fanchon was
two years younger and five years stupider, and even a little more ugly;
but, such as she was, she must make the best of her.
"Of course," continued Fanchon, who seemed to divine her governess'
thoughts, "if you really think that I told a wicked story, I can go to
father now and tell him that I made a mistake, and that the box
contained your blue silk dress, and--and--other things of yours--and not
the jam pots. Shall I, Brenda? shall I?"
"You goosey! you goosey!" said Brenda. She squeezed Fanchon's arm and
began to pace up and down the terrace walk with her pupil by her side.
"You know," she said, lowering her voice and speaking in the most
confiding and enthralling way, "you are older than the others, and I can
confide in you. It is wrong to tell lies--very, very wrong--and
whatever possessed you, you silly girl, to think of jam pots? I am sure
nothing was further from our heads on that auspicious day. But I don't
want your dear father to see the dress that I am going to the fete in,
and I will tell you why."
"Please do," said Fanchon, "for to tell the truth, Brenda, neither Nina,
nor Josephine, nor I understand you always."
"Well, dears, is it likely that you should? I am, let me see, between
twenty-two and twenty-three years of age, although I don't look it by
any means."
"I don't know what that age looks like, so can't say," was Fanchon's
remark.
"Well, dear--it is a very beautiful age, and very young. It is the age
when a girl comes--so to speak--to her prime, and when she thinks of--
of,"--Brenda lowered her voice--"getting married."
"Oh!" said Fanchon, colouring crimson. "You don't mean to say--"
"I don't mean to say anything at all, I have nothing to confide, so
don't imagine it for a single moment. But at the seaside, where the gay
people will be, and the band will play, and there'll be no end of tea
out of doors and all sorts of fun of one sort and another, it may happen
that--that--somebody _may_ see your Brenda and--oh, Fanchon, need I say
any more!"
"I don't suppose you need," was Fanchon's answer. She felt immensely
flattered.
"Think what it would mean to me," continued Brenda. "A prince might
come along, who would fall in love with the beggar maid."
"But you--with your blue silk dress, to be called a beggar maid! That
name might suit poor Nina, who can't have flounces, even, to her pink
muslin dress that only cost sixpence three farthings a yard."
Brenda was startled at Fanchon's memory with regard to the price of the
muslin.
"No," continued that young lady, "you're not a bit like the beggar
maid."
"Ah, but--my dear girl--I am the beggar maid, and I am waiting for the
king to come along who will raise me to sit on his throne, and--in
fact--I am going to whisper a _great_ secret to you, Fanchon--"
"What is it?" said Fanchon, who was at once fretful and disgusted,
overpowered with curiosity, and yet heartily wishing that Brenda would
not confide in her.
"Well--I will tell you," said Brenda. "I have been left a little
money--just the _merest_ little trifle, and I am spending a little of it
on my blue silk, and I don't want any one to know but just my own
darling Fanchon; my eldest pupil--who loves me so well! Perhaps, my
_cherie_, I may buy you a pretty gift out of some of the money. What do
you say to a little gold bracelet--a bangle, I mean?"
Brenda remembered that she could get a silver gilt bracelet for a couple
of shillings at a shop she knew of at Rocheford, and that it would be
worth her while to purchase Fanchon's sympathy at that price.
"Oh--but I should love it!" said the young lady, looking at her sunburnt
and badly formed wrist.
"The bangle would give you good style," said Brenda. "Well, we'll say
nothing about it now--but--well, as I have given you my confidence, you
won't repeat it."
"I suppose not, but I do want to see your blue silk."
"All right, you shall, but not the others--I draw the line at the
others. You can slip out of bed to-night and come to me, and I will put
it on and show myself. I am going away early in the morning before any
of you are up."
"But I am certain father will be up, for he said so, and he's going to
let you in afterwards."