Lady Betty's governess : $b or, The Corbet chroniclesGuernsey, Lucy Ellen
History
Lady Betty's governess : $b or, The Corbet chronicles
Guernsey, Lucy Ellen
Governesses -- Juvenile fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Charles I, 1625-1649 -- Juvenile fiction
It was now Lady Jemima's turn to leave the table, which she did, and
the room too, slamming the door with some force behind her. My Lord
laughed again, and fell to talking to my Lady of the days of their
first acquaintance at King James' Court.
After supper, he challenged me to play backgammon with him, and so I
did. He was very kind, and even courtly, as he knows how to be well
enough. Only at my going away, he detained me, and said, very seriously:
"One word, my maid. Do not you lose your heart to Mr. Corbet. He is the
next heir to the Earldom, and like to be lord of all, should my Lady
miscarry, which heaven forbid, and he must marry according to his rank.
I believe not my sister's words have anything in them, but 'forewarned
is forearmed,' you know. You are a good girl, I truly believe, and my
Lady loves and trusts you, and if for no other reason, I would be loth
to have any trouble arise."
"You need not fear me, my Lord," I answered. "I am but a poor
governess, 'tis true, but I am a gentlewoman born and bred, as much so
in my station as Lady Jemima in hers, and I do not think I am like to
forget what is due to myself, even if I did not remember my duty to
your Lordship's family."
"'Tis well said," answered my Lord, seeming no way displeased by my
frankness. "I like your spirit. As for Penrose, you shall not be teased
about him. He is a good fellow, and I should be well-pleased to see him
fitted with as good a wife as yourself; besides that I can't but enjoy
the joke of the thing. But 'tis early times yet, and he can afford to
wait. Come, you bear me no malice, do you?"
I never liked my Lord so well, and was very willing to part good
friends with him. As for Lady Jemima, I can hardly think of her with
patience, much less forgive her. Yet I must, or what will become of me?
When I put Lady Betty to bed, she put her arms round my neck and
whispered in my ear:
"Please don't be angry, Margaret, but you wont marry Mr. Penrose, will
you?"
"I will marry the man in the moon, and go and live with him upon green
cheese, if I hear another word about the matter," said I. "Or I will
run away in the first ship to America, paint my face all over red
stripes, and wed the king of the Neponsets."
Betty laughed, and so did I, but my heart hath been heavy enough since.
Here is Betty deprived of one of her greatest pleasures (and she has
few enough, poor child) that of hearing her cousin's tales and playing
with him, and all mine own ease and comfort spoiled, all because of
Lady Jemima's spiteful words—for spiteful they were. Ah me! My day's
work is like to be a hard one—too hard, I fear, for my strength.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VII.
_THE BISHOP'S VISIT._
_August 10._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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