L. Meade - A Very Naughty Girl

Evelyn’s face turned white.

“Five pounds a quarter!” she said. “Why, that is downright penury!”

“No, dear; for the use you require it for it is downright riches. But, be it riches or be it penury, you get no more.”

Evelyn looked full at her uncle; her uncle looked back at her.

“Come here, little girl,” he said.

Her heart was beating with furious anger, but there was something in his tone which subdued her. She went slowly to him, and he put his arm round her waist.

“Your eyes are like – very like – one whom I loved best on earth.”

“You mean my father,” said the girl.

“Your father. He left you to me to care for, and to love and to train – to train for a high position eventually.”

“He left me to mothery; you are quite mistaken there. Mothery has trained me; father left me to her. She often and often and often told me so.”

“That is true, dear. While your mother lived she had the prior claim over you, but now you belong to me.”

“Yes,” said Evelyn. She felt fascinated. She snuggled comfortably inside her uncle’s arm; her strange brown eyes were fixed on his face.

“I give you,” he continued, “the love and care of a father, but I expect a return.”

“What? I don’t mind. I have two diamonds – beauties. You shall have them to make into studs; you shall, because I – yes, I love you.”

“I don’t want your diamonds, my little girl, but I want other things – your love and your obedience. I want you, if you like me, and if you like your Aunt Frances, and if you like your cousin, to follow in our steps, for we have been brought up to approve of courteous manners and quiet dress and gentle speech; and I want that brain of yours, Evelyn, to be educated to high and lofty thoughts. I want you to be a grand woman, worthy of your father, and I expect this return from you for all that I am going to do for you.”

“Are you going to teach me your own self?” asked Evelyn.

“You can come to me sometimes for a talk, but it is impossible for me to be your instructor. You will have a suitable governess.”

“Jasper knows a lot of things. Perhaps she could teach both Audrey and me. She might if you paid her well. She has got some awfully poor relations; she must have lots of money, poor Jasper must.”

“Well, dear, leave me now. We will talk of your education and who is to instruct you, and all about Jasper too, within a few days. You have got to see the place and to make Audrey’s acquaintance; and there are some young friends coming to the Castle for a week. Altogether, you have arrived at a gay time. Now run away, find your cousin, and make yourself happy.”

Squire Wynford rose as he spoke, and taking Evelyn’s hand, he led her to the door. He opened the door wide for her, and saw her go out, and then he kissed his hand to her and closed the door again.

“Poor little mite!” he said to himself. “As strange a child as I ever saw, but with Frank’s eyes.”

Now, the Squire had produced a decidedly softening effect upon Evelyn, and if she had not had the misfortune to meet Lady Frances just as she left his room, much that followed need never taken place. But Lady Frances, who had never in the very least returned poor Frank Wynford’s affection for her, and who had no sentimental feelings with regard to Evelyn – Lady Frances, who simply regarded the little girl as a troublesome and very tiresome member of the family – was not disposed to be too soothing in her manner.

“Come here, my dear,” she said. “Come over here to the light. What have you got on?”

“My pretty red velvet dress,” replied Evelyn, tossing her head. “A suitable dress for an heiress like myself.”

“Come, this is quite beyond enduring. I want to speak to you, Evelyn. I have several things to say. Come into my boudoir.”

“But, if you please,” said Evelyn, “I have nothing to say to you, and I have a great deal to do in other directions. I am going back to Jasper; she wants me.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” began Lady Frances. “Come in here this moment, my dear.”

She took Evelyn’s hand and dragged the unwilling child into her private apartment. A bright fire burned in the grate. The room looked cozy, cheerful, orderly. Lady Frances was a woman of method. She had piles of papers lying neatly docketed on her writing-table; a sheaf of unanswered letters lay on one side. A Remington typewriter stood on a table near, and a slim-looking girl was standing by the typewriter.

“You will leave me for the present, Miss Andrews,” she said, turning to her amanuensis. “I shall require you here again in a quarter of an hour.”

Miss Andrews, with a low bow, instantly left the room.

“You see, Evelyn,” said her aunt, “you are taking up the time of a very busy woman. I manage the financial part of several charities – in short, we are very busy people in this house – and in the morning I, as a rule, allow no one to interrupt me. When the afternoon comes I am ready and willing to be agreeable to my guests.”

“But I am not your guest. The house belongs to me – or at least it will be mine,” said Evelyn.

“You are quite right in saying you are not my guest. You are my husband’s niece, and in the future you will inherit his property; but if I hear you speaking in that rude way again I shall be forced to punish you. I can see for myself that you are an ill-bred girl and will require a vast lot of breaking-in.”

“And you think you can do it?” said Evelyn, her eyes flashing.

“I intend to do it. I am going to talk to you for a few minutes this morning, and after I have spoken I wish you to clearly understand that you are to do as I tell you. You will not be unhappy here; on the contrary, you will be happy. At first you may find the necessary rules of a house like this somewhat irksome, but you will get into the way of them before long. You need discipline, and you will have it here. I will not say much more on that subject this morning. You can find Audrey, and she and Miss Sinclair will take you round the grounds and amuse you, and you must be very much obliged to them for their attentions. Audrey is my daughter, and I think I may say without undue flattery that you will find her a most estimable companion. She is well brought up, and is a charming girl in every sense of the word. Miss Sinclair is her governess; she will also instruct you, but time enough for that in the future. Now, when you leave here go straight to your room and desire your servant – Jasper, I think, you call her – to dress you in a plain and suitable frock.”

“A frock!” said Evelyn. “I wear dresses – long dresses. I am not a child; mothery said I had the sense of several grown-up people.”

“The garment you are now in you are not to wear again; it is unsuitable, and I forbid you to be even seen in it. Do you understand?”

“I hear you,” said Evelyn.

“Go up-stairs and do what I tell you, and then you can go into the grounds. Audrey is having holidays at present; you will find her with her governess in the shrubbery. Now go; the time I can devote to you for the present is up.”

“I had better give you this first,” said Evelyn.

She thrust her hand into her pocket and took out the ill-spelt and now exceedingly dirty note which poor Mrs. Wynford in Tasmania had written to Lady Frances before her death.

“This is from mothery, who is dead,” continued the child. “It is for you. She wrote it to you. I expect she is watching you now; she told me that she would come back if she could and see how people treated me. I am going. Don’t lose the note; it was written by mothery, and she is dead.”

Evelyn laid the dirty letter on the blotting-pad on Lady Frances’s table. It looked strangely out of keeping with the rest of her correspondence. The little girl left the room, banging the door behind her.