London (England) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Lady Agatha shrugged her shoulders with a hateful smile. "Oh, I dare say
Mr. Towle will be very glad of the outcome later on," she said
carelessly. "It is not easy to account for the vagaries of elderly men.
But it was not to speak of this absurd _contretemps_ that I sent for you
this morning, Jane; Gwendolen reported to me what took place in her room
last night, and at first I contemplated referring the whole matter to
your uncle; but----"
Lady Agatha paused to note the gleam of hope which lighted up the girl's
expressive features, only to fade as she went on in her peculiarly
frigid, precise way:
"I finally thought best to settle the question with you. Your proposal
that I should pay you the wages of a servant shocked and grieved
me--_inexpressibly_. Your position in this household is that--er--of--a
relative--an unfortunate relative, it is true; but still a relative.
You bear our name, and as an Aubrey-Blythe you ought to consider what is
due your--er--position. You ought, in short, to fill your humble niche
in the family life cheerfully and uncomplainingly. Do you follow me?"
"Yes, Aunt Agatha," said Jane stonily.
"It is little indeed that you can do for us in return for all the
benefits which are continually heaped upon you," went on Lady Agatha,
with an air of Christian forbearance. "It ought not to be necessary for
me to remind you of this, Jane. I regret that it is so. But I cannot
permit a discordant element to disturb the peace of my home. You are
aware that Percy and Cecil should be required to conduct themselves like
gentlemen. You will see to it that the disgraceful scene of last night
is not repeated. As for Gwendolen, any little service that you are
requested to do for her ought to be gladly performed. Do you know, the
poor, dear child was quite overcome by your rudeness; she thought you
must be ill."
"I shall never put on Gwendolen's stockings and shoes for her again,"
remarked Jane, with disconcerting finality.
"Jane, you forget yourself!"
"No, aunt; you are mistaken. I am not forgetting myself; I am
remembering that I am an Aubrey-Blythe."
Lady Agatha stared blankly at the girl for a full minute. Then she
recovered herself. "You are an ungrateful, impertinent girl!" she said
slowly. "If you were younger I should feel it my duty to ferule you
severely. There is one other thing I wish to speak to you about; then
you may go. I have observed that you are far too familiar and presuming
in your manner toward your cousin Reginald. His future position in the
world as my oldest son and his father's heir does not warrant any such
attitude on your part."
"Did Reginald tell you that he tried to kiss me on the stairs last
night, and that I slapped him for it?" inquired Jane, in a businesslike
tone. "It was 'familiar' of me, I admit; but Reginald is such a cub,
you know."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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