I have only been out for a year. Mrs. Carruthers got an attack of
bronchitis when I was eighteen, just as we were going up to town for the
season, and said she did not feel well enough for the fatigues, and off we
went to Switzerland. And in the autumn we travelled all over the place,
and in the winter she coughed and groaned, and the next season would not
go up until the last court, so I have only had a month of London. The
bronchitis got perfectly well--it was heart-failure that killed her,
brought on by an attack of temper because Thomas broke the Carruthers
vase. I shall not write of her death, or the finding of the will, or the
surprise that I was left nothing but a thousand pounds and a diamond ring.
Now that I am an adventuress, instead of an heiress, of what good to
chronicle all that! Sufficient to say if Mr. Carruthers does not obey his
orders and offer me his hand this afternoon, I shall have to pack my
trunks and depart by Saturday, but where to is yet in the lap of the gods.
He is coming by the 3.20 train, and will be in the house before four, an
ugly, dull time; one can't offer him tea, and it will be altogether
trying and exciting.
He is coming ostensibly to take over his place, I suppose, but in reality
it is to look at me, and see if in any way he will be able to persuade
himself to carry out his aunt's wishes. I wonder what it will be like to
be married to some one you don't know and don't like? I am not greatly
acquainted yet with the ways of men. We have not had any that you could
call that here, much--only a lot of old wicked sort of things, in the
autumn, to shoot the pheasants, and play bridge with Mrs. Carruthers. The
marvel to me was how they ever killed anything, such antiques they were!
Some politicians and ambassadors, and creatures of that sort; and mostly
as wicked as could be. They used to come trotting down the passage to the
school-room, and have tea with mademoiselle and me on the slightest
provocation, and say such things! I am sure lots of what they said meant
something else, mademoiselle used to giggle so. She was rather a
good-looking one I had the last four years, but I hated her. There was
never any one young and human who counted.
I did look forward to coming out in London, but being so late, every one
was preoccupied when we got there, and no one got in love with me much.
Indeed, we went out very little; a part of the time I had a swollen nose
from a tennis-ball at Ranelagh, and people don't look at girls with
swollen noses.
I wonder where I shall go and live! Perhaps in Paris--unless, of course, I
marry Mr. Carruthers. I don't suppose it is dull being married. In London
all the married ones seemed to have a lovely time, and had not to bother
with their husbands much.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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