Lady Jane Follitt had last seen the balloon driving through rain-clouds
at dusk, somewhere between Peterborough and York. It had not been nearly
such good sport as she had anticipated, for the breeze had been light
during the early part of the afternoon, and she had been obliged to go
slowly in order not to outrun the aëronauts, and when they had begun to
travel faster it had grown dark, and she could not see them even with
her searchlight! She made up her mind that there was nothing in
ballooning after all, and she was wet and tired when she got back to
London late at night, and found Claude and her husband waiting for her.
The Colonel talked of going down to King’s Follitt the next day.
“And leave me here to do my shopping alone?” said Lady Jane indignantly.
“Not much! We’ll go down in the motor on Thursday, if you don’t mind.”
She had almost always done her shopping alone, but that did not matter.
When she said “if you don’t mind” in that tone, the mild Colonel knew
his place and did his duty.
Claude’s match was not over yet, and he must stay in town another day;
Jocelyn was with the Trevelyans, and was hardly likely to get home for
twenty-four hours or more; but the Colonel was at leisure, and could not
be allowed to go home alone in order to make love to Miss Scott. Lady
Jane had never felt any anxiety about Lionel, because he knew the
governess’s father, and had been just as kind to her when she was
hideous.
So he and Ellen had another day to themselves, and though she hardly let
the girls go out of her sight, the two had plenty of opportunity of
talking together. The result of their confabulations was that Ellen was
to do her best to get away from King’s Follitt with Lady Jane’s consent,
but that if she did not succeed within a fortnight Lionel should tell
his mother that he intended to marry the girl, and if there was a
terrible fuss, then it could not be helped, that was all. Ellen, on
mature consideration, made up her mind that it would be cowardly to run
away, but that she would leave after the inevitable interview with the
infuriated Lady Jane.
That was what they both thought best, after long consideration, and they
made up their minds to do it.
Herbert Scott was determined that his adopted child should not suffer a
bitter disappointment after her expectations had been raised to the
highest pitch, and he accordingly took care that no hint of what was
coming should reach her, till all was settled beyond any possibility of
failure--at least, if that could be managed. His sense of humour, too,
was delighted by the prospect of the surprise which the change in her
prospects would produce in the Follitt household, accompanied as it
would be by the announcement of her long-standing engagement to Lionel.
But after all, the excellent Mr. Scott himself could not quite believe
that a noble estate and a good old name had been the rightful dowry of
the poor little doorstep baby he had taken in so long ago. His only fear
for the future had been lest her own father should become sane again,
as suddenly as he had gone mad, and claim his daughter; and when Dr.
Steele wrote him that old Trevelyan was dead, Herbert Scott made
incomprehensible observations aloud to himself in several oriental
dialects, not one of them expressive of regret.
Things did not turn out exactly as he expected. Lady Jane and the
Colonel came home in due time, when the shopping in London was done.
Claude returned in a very good humour from the cricket-match, for
Yorkshire had won and he himself had brought up his average; but he went
off almost immediately to ride the promised steeplechase. Jocelyn came
back one morning, rather silent and uncommunicative, to claim the fifty
pounds he had won of Lionel, and immediately departed again, saying that
he would write. He said something about having been in a madhouse, which
the others took for chaff.
Therefore, when the crisis came the two younger sons were not at home,
and it happened in this way: the Colonel lost his head, Lady Jane lost
her temper, Lionel lost his patience, and Miss Scott lost her position
as governess.
There was no doubt about Colonel Follitt’s admiration for the once
Undesirable One. He talked to her at table, he brought her books from
the library, he accidentally found himself in the way when she passed;
and one day he announced his intention of going for a walk with her and
his two daughters, as Lionel had done several times.
“That you shall not do!” said Lady Jane with severity.
“Why not, my dear?” asked her mild husband.
“It’s not decent,” answered Lady Jane with disgust. “I won’t have it!”
“Really!” cried the Colonel, with polite surprise. “If a man cannot walk
out with his own daughters----”
“Not with Miss Scott. Thank goodness, I still have some authority! The
idea of such a thing! Besides, it’s growing on you. When vice doesn’t
disappear it always grows worse with old age.”
“Old age, indeed!” The Colonel was mildly indignant.
“Now, that Miss Kirk,” Lady Jane exclaimed, not heeding him, “at least
she was pretty. No one ever denied that, I suppose. Well, that was some
excuse; but it’s positively disgusting to see a man of sixty----”
“Fifty-five,” interrupted the Colonel.
“--of nearly fifty-six devoting himself to a miserable, dowdy little rat
of a London governess, who came here with a blotchy face and a hump on
one shoulder, and her hair drawn back like a skinned rabbit’s!”
“Dear me!” exclaimed the Colonel, with exasperating mildness.
“And besides,” Lady Jane concluded, sticking up her aristocratic nose in
wrath, “she’s distinctly plebeian!”
“I’m sorry, mother, but you’re quite mistaken,” said Lionel, looking up
from his paper, and bending his brows. “She talks just as we do, and
nobody could possibly tell that she didn’t belong to our set.”
Lady Jane stared at her eldest son in surprise. They were all three in
the mess-room after luncheon. “My dear Lionel,” she retorted, with
pitying scorn, “if you don’t know a lady when you see one, I really
can’t teach you the difference, can I?”
“Miss Scott is a lady in every way,” Lionel answered, with a good deal
of emphasis, and fixing his eyes on his mother’s in an odd way.
“Good heaven!” cried Lady Jane. “I believe you’re another of her
victims!”
“I am going to marry Miss Scott in June,” Lionel said, rising suddenly,
and looking down at her and his father--for he was very tall.
“What?” cried Lady Jane, her jaw dropping.
“What?” cried the Colonel, no longer mild.
And the walls of the mess-room echoed “what” in the name of the absent
members of the family.
“Are you quite mad?” asked Lady Jane, breathless in her amazed surprise.
“Impudent puppy!” the Colonel cried, getting red in the face. “My dear,
the girl must leave the house this instant!”
“I’ll send for her and tell her so at once!”
“It’s not of the least use to get so excited,” said Lionel, calmly
sitting down and taking up his paper again. “We shall be married in
June, and there’s nothing more to be said.”
Thereupon he appeared to go on reading, without paying any more
attention to his father and mother.
“This is monstrous!” Lady Jane was beside herself. “Lionel!” She came
and stood beside his chair. “You’re not in earnest! This is some silly
attempt at a joke!”
“Drop it, my boy!” cried the Colonel, taking the cue from his wife.
“I’m not joking.” Lionel looked up quietly. “You’ll be very fond of her
some day, when you get over the idea that she’s been governess to the
girls. Really, there’s nothing to be said. I made up my mind long ago;
and as the estate is entailed you can’t even cut me off with a shilling!
Happily, you are quite powerless, for we can live very comfortably on my
five hundred a year.”
Lady Jane glared, and the Colonel put on that singularly disagreeable
expression which has come into use amongst Englishmen since they gave up
swearing as a means of showing what they are thinking about. It is a
particularly unpleasant look, and bodes evil when it appears.
“Miss Scott will go at once, of course,” Lionel added, as they said
nothing. “I only ask you not to be rude to her.”
“As if one could be rude to a governess!” cried Lady Jane, stalking off
with her head in the air and going out.
“All that Sanskrit stuff has gone to your head, my boy,” said the
Colonel, following her.
Lady Jane went to her morning room and rang the bell. Her hand trembled
a little. “Ask Miss Scott to come to me before going out with the young
ladies,” she said to the footman.
Ellen lost no time in answering the summons, and appeared dressed for
walking, and wearing a plain grey felt hat, which happened to be very
becoming. As soon as she entered, she saw that Lady Jane was in a rage,
and guessed that it concerned her.
“My son has just given me to understand that he has--er--agreed to marry
you. What have you to say to this amazing statement?”
Miss Scott looked much taller than usual, and held her head quite as
high as Lady Jane herself; but she answered very quietly, and almost
gently. “Yes,” she said, “it’s quite true. That’s all I have to say.”
“And you have the assurance to tell me so to my face?” cried Lady Jane.
“Oh, yes, since it’s true,” answered the young girl sweetly.
“It’s not to be believed!”
Lady Jane’s face was as hard as a portrait done in enamel; her eyes
glittered like pale sapphires, and she began to walk up and down the
room, looking straight in front of her.
“I’m afraid you must believe it, unless your son changes his mind,” said
Miss Scott with great gentleness.
“Oh, he shall change his mind! Never fear! A governess! There are laws
to prevent such things--I’m sure there are!”
“And a foundling, too,” said Ellen, more sweetly than ever. “I’m sure
you will think that makes it much worse,” she added, as Lady Jane
stopped suddenly in her walk and glared at her. “Yes, I was left on Mr.
Scott’s doorstep early one morning when I was a baby, and he adopted me
and gave me his name, and called me Ellen. It’s rather dreadful, isn’t
it?”
“Dreadful! It’s vile, the way you have played on his feelings in secret
and led him to this! But, thank Heaven, he is my son. He must have some
sense, somewhere!”
“He has a great deal,” said Miss Scott, unmoved. “I’m sure of it.”
“If anything could make matters worse, it is your brazen assurance,”
cried Lady Jane, beside herself. “There is no reason why I should put up
with it another moment, and I shall expect you to leave the house in an
hour. Do you understand?”
“I was going to ask your leave to do so,” answered Ellen; “for the
truth is, I have some very urgent business in town, and my solicitors
have written begging me to come at once.”
Lady Jane’s face assumed an expression of blank astonishment. “Your
solicitors! What nonsense is this?”
“In view of the fact that Lionel has told you about our engagement, it
may have some importance--even in your eyes.”
There was something so extraordinarily calm about the young person’s
manner, that Lady Jane began to take another view of the matter. “I
believe you must be an escaped lunatic,” she said with deliberation, and
fixing her cold eyes on the governess’s pretty face.
But nothing happened; she did not shrink and cower under the glance, as
Lady Jane supposed that an escaped lunatic would, on being found out.
“Perhaps you would like to see the last letter I have received?” said
Miss Scott.
Lady Jane hesitated, for it seemed beneath her dignity to prolong the
interview. She would have turned her back on the governess if she had
not been made really curious by her calm and dignified manner, and by
her allusion to “solicitors.” Just then, too, it occurred to the injured
matron that the girl might have committed some offence for which she was
to be tried, and that the “solicitors” were those whom her adopted
father had engaged for the defence. This was ingenious, if it was
nothing else. Lady Jane, who was both very angry and at the same time
very curious, suddenly contracted her eyelids, as if she were
short-sighted, and held her head higher than ever. “I am willing to
look at the letter,” she said, “on the mere chance that it may show
your--er--atrocious conduct--in a somewhat less--er--unfavourable
light!”
Miss Scott smiled sweetly, and produced a large envelope from the inside
of her coat--for, being a governess, she possessed a pocket. She handed
the paper to Lady Jane, who saw at a glance that it was a genuine
solicitor’s letter, from a highly respectable firm of whom she had often
heard. The envelope was addressed to “Miss Ellen Scott,” but when Lady
Jane took out and unfolded the contents, she saw that they were
addressed to “Miss Diana Trevelyan.”
“Trevelyan?” she cried angrily. “Diana Trevelyan? What absurdity is
this? What have you to do with any Diana Trevelyan, pray?”
[Illustration: “‘You? The daughter of Sir Randolph? You’re mad!’”]
“It’s me,” Miss Scott answered patiently, in a small voice.
“You?” Lady Jane’s eyes glittered and glared again.
“Yes. I was a doorstep baby, as I told you; and now they’ve found out at
last that I am Diana Trevelyan, the only child of Sir Randolph, who died
in an insane asylum a few days ago.”
“You? The daughter of Sir Randolph? You’re mad!”
“No, I’m not mad, though my father was. If you will only read the
letter, you will understand. You see, all his Lincolnshire estates come
to me, so it makes rather a difference, doesn’t it?”
“Rather a difference!”
No words could describe Lady Jane’s tone as she repeated the words. At
the mere thought that, instead of speaking out her irate mind to a poor
little governess with whom her son had been silly enough to fall in
love, she had been railing at Miss Diana Trevelyan, a charming girl and
an heiress, quite as good as herself, and the most desirable
daughter-in-law she could wish for, she suddenly got red in the face,
and buried herself in the documents, in which she presently became
absorbed.
As she read the wonderful story, and learned that the other Lincolnshire
Trevelyans had thought it best not to question Ellen’s right--or
Diana’s--her wrath subsided, and joy rose in its place, as it would in
any mother’s heart, over what could only be a genuine love match, though
it had turned out so vastly advantageous. At last she folded the many
sheets together and put them back into the envelope, which she held in
one hand while she covered her eyes with the other for a moment. “I
don’t quite know what to say,” she said simply, and then looked up with
a rather shy smile. “I was awfully nasty, I know. I’m sure you would
have been a very good wife to Lionel without a name or a fortune, my
dear. I can’t imagine why it seemed so dreadful to me five minutes ago!
I was quite stupidly angry, and you must forgive me, please. You will,
won’t you?”
She was almost pathetic in her defeat, though she was quite ridiculous
too, and knew it.
Ellen laughed gaily. “My dear Lady Jane,” she said, “I’ll forgive you
with all my heart if you’ll only forgive me for something much worse
that I did to you?”
“I’ll forgive you anything--I’m so happy!” answered the elder woman,
smiling.
“I’ve been a fairly good governess to the girls, haven’t I?” asked the
young girl. “And well-behaved, too? And if I wanted it, you’d give me a
good character, wouldn’t you? That is, if I hadn’t fallen in love with
your eldest son?”
“Oh, that wouldn’t have mattered,” said Lady Jane. “It was his falling
in love with you that I couldn’t stand! Of course I would give you a
good character!”
“Thank you. Now I’ll make my confession. I used to be good at
theatricals, and when I saw your advertisement I made up for the place.”
“Made up? It was all a sham?”
Lady Jane started in surprise.
“The limp was a sham, the hump was a little pillow, the blotches were
liquid rouge, my eyes never wander unless I choose to make them do it,
and I had never worn my hair like that in my life! Can you forgive me
for having cheated you all, when I read your advertisement? I suppose it
was just devilry that made me do it--and I wanted to see more of Lionel,
since we were engaged. After all, I was quite fit for the place, wasn’t
I? All I had to do was to make myself thoroughly undesirable; and I
did!”
“And to think that I wasted all that good lotion on you!” cried Lady
Jane, laughing.
She would have thought the whole trick an abominable fraud on the part
of Ellen Scott, but quite entered into the fun of the practical joke,
since it had been played by Miss Diana Trevelyan. After all, she never
made any pretence of being magnanimous or bursting with noble
sentiments. She was just an ordinary woman of the world, and a very good
mother, who had been horrified at the idea that her eldest son should
marry badly, and was delighted to find that he was going to marry well
after all; and let any natural mother who would not feel just as she
did, find fault with her and call her worldly!
That is the story of that Undesirable Governess they had at King’s
Follitt last year, and it explains why Lionel and Jocelyn were married
on the same day to two Trevelyan girls who were only very distantly
related. In a nice story-book it would of course have been the penniless
younger son who would have married the governess-heiress, and the heir
of King’s Follitt would have married Anne Trevelyan, who was not
particularly well off. But in real life things do not happen in that
way, and yet people are happy just the same--when they are.
The darker side of the whole affair was that, after Ellen turned into
somebody else, those girls ran perfectly wild, and fell back into their
old ways of poaching and exchanging game for chocolates with the
postman; and they sat up in the King’s Oak by the lodge and peppered the
passing horses on the Malton road with catapults, and potted rooks, and
rode steeplechases in the park on the best horses in the stable; and
they strenuously did all those things which they should have left
undone, to the total exclusion of the other things, till Lady Jane felt
that she was going mad, and it looked as if no one but the matron of a
police station could ever be satisfactory as a governess at King’s
Follitt.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Undesirable Governess, by F. Marion Crawford