WHAT TO DO WITH HER?
After Mrs. Rushton had been laid to rest in her grave her worldly
affairs had to be looked into. She had died possessed of a great deal of
property, and her relations were well aware that she had never made a
will. Her brother had lately urged her to make a will, but she had
always put off the unpleasant task. Now there was nothing to be done but
to divide the property among the relatives to whom it reverted by law.
After the funeral her late husband's relations and Mr. Enderby met at
Amber Hill and discussed these matters of business.
In the meantime Hetty had been left at Amber Hill in the care of the
housekeeper, for Mr. Enderby would not allow his wife to carry her off
to Wavertree.
"It would be a mistake," he said, "to begin what we may not think proper
to go on with afterwards. If the child comes home with us now she may
feel herself aggrieved, later, at being sent away. To act with prudence
is our first duty towards her."
So Hetty had been left with the housekeeper, who, being a kind woman in
her way, tried to comfort her with cakes and jam. Her only real comfort
was her darling Scamp, and with her arms round his shaggy neck she shed
many a tear of loneliness and terror. Her heart was full of anxious
fears as to what was going to become of her.
She had stolen into the room where the dead woman lay to take her last
farewell of her benefactress. Nobody watched there, and Hetty easily
found an opportunity for paying her tearful visit. Scamp, who never left
her side, accompanied her with a sad solemnity in his countenance, and
these were perhaps the two most real mourners whom the wealthy lady had
left behind her.
Now all was over, and Mrs. Rushton's room looked vacant and with as
little sign of her presence as if she had never inhabited it. The wintry
sunshine smiled in at all the windows of her handsome house, and made it
cheerful even though the blinds were drawn down. The robins twittered in
the evergreens outside, and the maids had their little jokes as usual
over their sewing, though they spoke in lowered tones. No great and
terrible change seemed to have happened to any one but Hetty, except
indeed to Scamp, and it was plain that he suffered only for Hetty's
sake.
On the day when Mrs. Rushton's relations met at Amber Hill Hetty sat in
the housekeeper's room in a little straw chair at the fire, with Scamp
clasped in her arms and her head resting against his. She felt
instinctively that her fate was being sealed upstairs. Indeed a few
words which had passed between Grant and the housekeeper, and which she
had accidentally overheard, assured her that such would be the case.
"If Mrs. Rushton has left her nothing," said Grant, "she'll be out on
the world again, as she was before. Mrs. Kane may take her, unless the
gentlemen do something for her."
"Mr. Enderby will never allow her to go back to poor Anne Kane," said
the housekeeper. "There's many a cheap way of providing for a friendless
child, and it wouldn't be fair to put her on a woman that can hardly
keep her own little home together."
Hetty's anguish was unspeakable as these words sank into her heart, each
one making a wound. She shuddered at the thought of going back to Mrs.
Kane, but felt even more horror of those unknown "cheap ways of
providing for a friendless child," alluded to by the housekeeper. A
perfect sea of tribulation rolled over her head as she bent it in
despair, and wept forlornly on Scamp's comfortable neck.
In the meantime, as Hetty surmised, her fate was being decided upstairs.
No provision had been made by Mrs. Rushton for the child whom she had
taken into her home, petted and indulged, and accustomed to every
luxury. The relations of Mrs. Rushton's late husband, who lived at a
great distance and had not been on intimate terms with her, were not
much impressed by the lady's carelessness of Hetty. But Mr. Enderby, who
knew all the circumstances, felt that a wrong had been done.
"Some provision ought to be made for the child," he said; "that is a
matter about which there can be no doubt."
"Certainly," said Mr. Rushton, who had inherited most of his
sister-in-law's property. "There are cheap schools where girls in her
position can be educated according to their station. Afterwards we can
see about giving her a trade, millinery and dressmaking, I suppose, or
something of that kind."
Mr. Enderby looked troubled. "I do not think that would be quite fair,"
he said, "I would urge that she should receive a good education. She
ought to be brought up a lady, having been so long accustomed to expect
it."
"I quite disagree with you," said Mr. Rushton; "there are too many idle
ladies in the world. And who is to support her when she is grown up?"
"I do not wish to make her an idle lady," said Mr. Enderby, "but I would
fit her to be a governess."
"There are too many governesses; better keep her down to a lower level
and teach her to be content to be a tradeswoman. As far as I am
concerned, I will consent to nothing better than this for the girl."
"Then we need not speak of it any more," returned Mr. Enderby. "I will
take the responsibility of the child upon myself."
Mr. Rushton shrugged his shoulders. "Do as you please," he said, "but
remember it is your own choice. If you change your mind, call upon me."
So the matter ended. When the library door opened, and the gentlemen
were heard preparing to depart, Hetty flew upstairs and stole into the
hall, where Mr. Enderby, who was the last to go, suddenly saw her little
white face gazing at him with a dumb anxiety.
"Well, my dear," he said kindly, "how are you getting on?"
"Oh sir, will you please tell me where I am to go to?" implored Hetty.
"Don't fret yourself about that," said Mr. Enderby, buttoning up his
coat. "We are not going to let you be lost. You just stay patiently with
Mrs. Benson till you hear again from me."
And then he nodded to her and took his departure.
That evening he had a serious conversation with his wife about Hetty
Gray.
"I have made up my mind it will be better to bring her here," he said
abruptly.
"My dear! is that wise?" exclaimed his wife, thinking with sudden
anxiety of Phyllis's great dislike to Hetty, and Hetty's uncompromising
pride.
"It is the best plan I can think of, but do not mistake me. If Hetty
comes here it will be expressly understood by her and others that she is
not to be brought up as my own daughter. She will merely enjoy the
security of the shelter of our roof, and will receive a good education
such as will fit her to provide, later, for herself."
"Will it be easy to carry out this plan?" asked Mrs. Enderby.
"That I must leave to you, my dear. You are firm enough and wise enough
to succeed where others would probably fail. The only alternative that I
can think of is to send her to an expensive school where she will
certainly not be prepared for the battle of life. As for sending her to
a lower style of place, and making a charity girl of her after all that
has been done to accustom her to the society of well-bred people, the
bare thought of such injustice makes me angry."
Mrs. Enderby looked admiringly at her husband.
"You are right," she said; "and I will try to carry out your plan. It
will add greatly to my cares, for I fear Hetty's will be a difficult
nature to deal with, especially when she finds herself in so uncertain a
position in our house."
The next day Mrs. Enderby drove over to Amber Hill and desired Mrs.
Benson to send Hetty to her in the morning-room. When the child appeared
she was greatly struck by the traces of suffering on her countenance,
and felt renewed anxiety as to the difficulty of carrying out her
husband's wishes.
"My child," she said kindly, taking the little girl's hand and drawing
her to her knees, "I have a good deal to say to you, and I hope you
will try to understand me perfectly."
Hetty gave her one swift upward glance in which there was keen
expectation, mingled with more of fear than hope.
"I will try," she whispered.
"You know, my dear, that Mrs. Rushton was very good to you while she
lived, yet you had no real claim on her, and now that she is gone you
are as much alone as if you had never seen her."
Mrs. Enderby was surprised by Hetty's swift answer.
"More alone," she said, with a stern look in her young face; "for if she
had not taken me I could have stayed with Mrs. Kane. I should have loved
Mrs. Kane, and now I do not love her."
"There is some truth in all that," said Mrs. Enderby; "but at all
events, my dear, you have enjoyed many advantages during the last five
or six years. There is no question now of your going back to Mrs. Kane.
Mr. Enderby will not allow it."
"Grant says there are cheap ways of providing for friendless children,"
said Hetty, whose tongue had become dry in her mouth with fear of what
might come next.
"Never mind what Grant says," said Mrs. Enderby; "attend only to what I
tell you. Mr. Enderby and I have thought deeply over your future, Hetty,
and we are really anxious to do what is best for you."
Hetty said nothing. All the powers of her mind were strained in
wondering expectation of what she was now going to hear.
"We have been advised to send you to a school where you would be made
fit to provide for yourself when you become a woman," continued the
lady, "but we have decided to take you into our own house instead; on
condition, however, that you try to be industrious and studious. By the
time you have grown up, I hope you will be able to make use of the good
education we shall give you, and will have learned the value of
independence. Do you understand me completely, Hetty? We are going to
educate you to be a governess. You shall live in our house and join in
the studies of our children, and enjoy the comfort and protection of our
home. But of course you cannot look forward to sharing the future of our
daughters."
"I understand," said Hetty slowly; and the whole state of the case, in
all its bearings, appeared in true colours before her intelligent mind.
"I hope you are satisfied also," said Mrs. Enderby, who was determined,
even at the risk of being a little hard, that the child should
thoroughly know her place, and learn to be grateful for the protection
afforded her. "When you are older, my child, you will comprehend what
your elders now know, that my poor sister, Mrs. Rushton, made a great
mistake in raising you from the station in which she found you, and
showering luxuries upon you as she did. We also see, however, that an
injustice was done to you, and that we whom she has left behind her are
bound to make amends to you for that. Therefore it is that we are
keeping you with ourselves, instead of allowing you to run the risk of
being made unhappy by strangers."
For all answer to this Hetty burst into a fit of wild weeping. Her proud
little heart was broken at the prospect of returning to Wavertree to be
snubbed and humbled by Phyllis, and possibly by servants of the same
disposition as Grant. For the moment she could not remember all those
worse horrors which her imagination had been conjuring up, and from
which she was actually saved. She stood trembling and shaking in the
storm of her grief, trying to stem her floods of tears with her
quivering little hands, and unable to keep them from raining through her
fingers on to the floor.
Mrs. Enderby sighed. Though she could not know all Hetty's thoughts, she
guessed some of them, and her heart sank lower than ever at the thought
of the trouble which might come of the introduction of so stormy an
element into her hitherto peaceful household. However, she was not a
woman to flinch from a duty, when once she had made up her mind to
recognize it.
"Come, come, my child!" she said, "you have been passing through a great
trial, but you must try to be brave and make yourself happy with us."
Had Mrs. Enderby taken poor Hetty in her arms and given her a motherly
kiss, much would have been done to heal the wounds made in the child's
sensitive heart. But it was part of her plan, conscientiously made, that
she must not accustom Hetty to caresses, such as she could not expect to
receive later in life. So she only patted her on the shoulder, and, when
her passion of crying had a little subsided, bade her run away and get
on her things, and be ready as soon as possible to come with her to
Wavertree Hall.