Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century CostumeYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
English fiction -- 19th century
All was still as death, except the murmuring caws of the rooks in their
nests, and the chattering shriek of a startled blackbird. The servant
from behind ran up the steps and thundered at the door; it was opened,
a broad line of light shone out, some figures appeared, and a man
in livery came forward to open the carriage door, but to Aurelia’s
inexpressible horror, his face was perfectly black, with negro features,
rolling eyes, and great white teeth!
She hardly knew what she did, the dark carriage was formidable on one
side, the apparition on the other! The only ray of comfort was in the
face of a stout, comely, rosy maid-servant, who was holding the candle
on the threshold, and with one bound the poor traveller dashed past the
black hand held out to help her, and rushing up to the girl, caught hold
of her, and gasped out, “Oh! What is that? Where am I? Where have they
taken me?”
“Lawk, ma’am,” said the girl, with a broad grin, “that ‘ere bees only
Mr. Jumbo. A’ won’t hurt’ee. See, here’s Mistress Aylward.”
A tall, white-capped, black-gowned elderly woman turned on the new-comer
a pale, grave, unsmiling face, saying, “Your servant--Miss Aurelia
Delavie, as I understand.”
Bending her head, and scarcely able to steady herself, for she was
shaking from head to foot, Aurelia managed to utter the query,
“Where am I?”
“At Bowstead Park, madam, by order of my Lady.”
Much relieved, and knowing this was the Belamour estate, Aurelia said,
“Please let me wait till Mrs. Dove comes before I am presented to my
Lady.”
“My Lady is not here, madam,” said Mrs. Aylward. “Allow me--” and she
led the way across a great empty hall, that seemed the vaster for its
obscurity, then along a matted passage, and down some steps into a room
surrounded with presses and cupboards, evidently belonging to the to the
housekeeper. She set a chair for the trembling girl, saying, “You will
excuse the having supper here to-night, madam; the south parlour will be
ready for you to-morrow.”
“Is not Mrs. Dove coming?” faintly asked Aurelia.
“Mrs. Dove is gone to London to attend on little Master Wayland. You are
to be here with the young ladies, ma’am.”
“What young ladies?” asked the bewildered maiden.
“My Lady’s little daughters--the Misses Wayland. I thought she had sent
you her instructions; but I see you are over wearied and daunted,” she
added, more kindly; “you will be better when you have taken some food.
Molly, I say, you sluggard of a wench, bring the lady’s supper, and
don’t stand gaping there.”
Mrs. Aylward hurried away to hasten operations, and Aurelia began
somewhat to recover her senses, though she was still so much dismayed
that she dreaded to look up lest she should see something frightful, and
started at the first approach of steps.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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