“I know sisters, sisters three.”
Ere many days had passed Aurelia had drifted into what would now be
regarded as the duties of a nursery governess to her little companions.
Fay and Amoret were always with her, and depended on her for everything.
Jenny Bowles, with a sort of animal jealousy, tried to monopolise her
charge, Letitia. The child was attracted by the sounds of her sister’s
sports, and there was no keeping her from them, or from their cousin.
Then the rude untaught Jenny became cross, moped, showed spite to the
other children, and insolence to the young lady, and was fortunately
overheard by Mrs. Aylward, and dismissed. Letty did not seem to mind the
loss as Amoret had felt that of her foster-mother, for indeed Jenny had
been almost as disagreeable to her as to the others during these days of
jealousy.
The triad were not much alike: Amoret was the largest of the three,
plump, blue-eyed, golden-haired, rosy-cheeked, a picture of the
cherub-type of child; Letitia had the delicate Delavie features and
complexion; and Fidelia, the least pretty, was pale, and rather sallow,
with deep blue eyes set under a broad forehead and dark brows, with hair
also dark. Though the smallest, she was the most advanced, and showed
signs of good training. She had some notion of good manners, and knew
as much of her hornbook [a child’s primer consisting of a sheet of
parchment or paper protected by a sheet of transparent horn--D.L.] and
catechism as little girls of five were wont to know. The other two were
perfectly ignorant, but Mrs. Aylward procured hornbooks, primers, and
slates, and Aurelia began their education in a small way.
It was a curious life. There was the great empty house, through whose
long corridors and vacant rooms the children might wander at will,
peeping at the swathed curtains of velvet pile, the rolls of carpet, and
the tapestry pictures on the walls, running and shouting in the empty
passages, or sometimes, in a fit of nameless fright, taking refuge in
Aurelia’s arms. Or they might play in the stately garden, provided they
trod on no borders, and meddled with neither flower nor fruit. The old
gardener began by viewing them as his natural enemies, but soon relaxed
in amusement at their pretty sportive ways, gave them many precious
spoils, and forgave more than one naughty little inroad, which greatly
alarmed their guardian.
Or if the little party felt enterprising, there lay beyond, the park,
its slopes covered with wild strawberries, and with woods where they
could gather flowers unchecked. Further, there was no going, except on
alternate Sundays, when there was service in the tumble-down Church at
the park gate. It was in far worse condition than the Church at home,
and was served by a poor forlorn-looking curate, who lived at Brentford,
and divided his services between four parishes, each of which was
content to put up with a fortnightly alternate morning and evening
service. The Belamour seat was a square one, without the comfortable
appliances of the Delavie closet, and thus permitting a much fuller
view, but there was nothing to be seen except a row of extremely gaudy
Belamour hatchments, displaying to the full, the saltir-wise sheafs of
arrows on the shields or lozenges, supported by grinning skulls. The
men’s shields preserved their eagle crest, the women had only lozenges,
and the family motto, _Amo et Amabo_, was exchanged for the more pious
“_Resurgam_.”
Aurelia found that the family seat, whither she was marshalled by Mrs.
Aylward, was already occupied by two ladies, who rose up, and made her
stately curtsies with a decidedly disgusted air, although there was
ample space for her and Fidelia, the only one of her charges whom
she had ventured to take with her. They wore the black hoods, laced
boddices, long rolls of towering curl and open upper skirts, of Queen
Anne’s day, and in the eyes of thirty years’ later, looked so ridiculous
that Fay could not but stare at them the whole time, and whenever
Aurelia turned her glances from her book to see whether her little
companion was behaving herself, the big blue considering eyes were
always levelled full upon the two forms before her.
The ladies were in keeping with their dress, thin, stiff and angular,
with worn and lined faces, highly rouged, and enormous long-handled
fans, and Aurelia was almost as much astonished as the child.
There was a low curtseying again, and much ceremony before it was
possible to get out of the pew, and the two ladies mounted at the door
on lofty pattens which added considerably to their height, and, attended
by a loutish-looking man in livery, who carried their books, stalked of
into the village.
Aurelia found from the communicative Molly that they were Mistress
Phoebe and Mistress Delia Treforth, kinswomen of the Belamour family,
who had in consequence a life residence rent-free in a tall thin red
square house near the churchyard, where a very gay parrot was always
to be seen in the windows. They no doubt regarded Miss Delavie and the
little Waylands as interlopers at Bowstead, and their withering glances
made Church-going a trying affair--indeed the first time that Aurelia
took little Amoret, they actually drove the sensitive child into a
sobbing fit, so that she had to be carried out, begging to know why
those ladies looked so cross at her.
The life, on the whole, was not unhappy, except for fits of homesickness
and longing for letters. The arrival of the boxes from the carrier
was the first comfort, and then at last came a thick letter from
home, franked by Sir George Herries, and containing letters from
everybody--even a few roundhand lines from Eugene.
Her father wrote at length all the excellent moral and religious essay
which had stuck in his throat at the parting; neither was Betty’s letter
deficient in good advice, though she let it appear that the family were
much amused at Lady Belamour’s affliction in her triad of daughters, the
secret having been hitherto so carefully kept that they supposed her to
have only one.
“It will be your Charge,” wrote Betty, “so far as in you lies, to render
them not merely the Graces, as my Father terms them, but the true and
faithful Guardian to these Infant Spirits. Though their Mother has shown
no Care or heed in entrusting them to you, yet remember that it is truly
the good Providence of their Heavenly Father that has put these little
Children of His in your Charge, to receive from you the first Principles
of Religion and Morals which may mould their whole Lives; and I trust
that you will do the Work faithfully and successfully. It may be dull
and tedious at Bowstead, but I had much rather hear of you thus than
exposed to the Glare of My Lady’s Saloon in London. No doubt Harriet
has write to you of the Visit of young Sir Amyas, the Sunday after your
departure. We have since heard that his expedition to Monmouthshire was
with a View to his marriage to Lady Aresfield’s Daughter, and this may
well be, so that if he fall in your way, you will be warned against
putting any misconstruction on any Civil Attentions he may pay to you.
Ever since your Departure Mr. Arden has redoubled his Assiduities in
a certain Quarter, and as it is thought the Dean and Chapter are not
unlikely to present him to a good Vicarage in Buckinghamshire, it is not
unlikely that ere long you may hear of a Wedding in the Family, although
Harriet would be extremely angry with me for daring to give such a
Hint.”
Certainly Aurelia would not have gathered the hint from Harriet’s
letter, which was very sentimental about her own loneliness and lack of
opportunity, in contrast with Aurelia, who was seeing the world. That
elegant beau, Sir Amyas, had just given a sample to tantalise their
rusticity, and then had vanished; and here was that oddity, Mr. Arden,
more wearisome and pertinacious than ever. So tiresome!