Jane Ashford (3 page)

Reluctantly Aggie smiled. “Well, no, of course not, but…”

“Good. Then it’s all settled. Come upstairs, we’ll look through my closet before dinner. I’m thinking of a dress that should just suit you; you can wear it tonight.”

“But I thought I would take a tray in my room—”

“A tray! Nonsense. You will dine with Alex and me, of course.” And taking Aggie’s arm, she led her resolutely out of the room.

In the next few days, Aggie began to feel more at home in the Wellfleets’ house. She met Mr. Wellfleet, a pleasant quiet man who clearly loved his little family very much. Large and genial, he was some years older than his wife, and often seemed tenderly amused by her chatter. Aggie herself was overwhelmed by her friendliness. Anne had Aggie’s hair cropped and curled and almost forcibly bestowed various garments upon her. The girl also learned something of her new charges, George and Alice, charming children who could exhibit perfect manners when they remembered to. But their vivacious mother had obviously spoiled them, and they were wholly unused to following any schedule but their own inclination. Aggie found that she more often took them for walks or played games than taught any useful subject, for George became obstinate and Alice despondent if forced to study. But as they were so young, she did not much worry about this. With time, she felt, and a gradual change, they could be made to enjoy learning. At this point in her thoughts, Aggie always grimaced. If they did indeed reach such a point, they would soon require a new governess. She had little beyond the rudiments to teach them, never having been bookish herself. As she wrote to Thalia, “I am very fortunate in having pupils who want only to explore the countryside and learn new games, for at these things, at least, I am expert.”

Aggie wrote both her sisters faithfully, describing her situation and her gratitude for its pleasantness. The letters made her smile, for she could imagine how Euphie would laugh over some of the things that had happened and the amusing remarks Thalia would find to make. But they also made her sad, for she missed her sisters cruelly.

On the sixth day after her arrival at the Wellfleets’, Aggie stood before the mirror in her bedchamber, putting on her bonnet in preparation for a morning walk with the children. As she did so, she was struck yet again by the extraordinary change in her appearance. She wore a smart walking dress of blue-and-white muslin, in narrow stripes, with long sleeves and a high ruffled collar. This, like her straw hat and pale blue sunshade, had until her arrival belonged to Anne. But Aggie had to admit, as she surveyed her reflection, that they became her very well. And the new haircut changed her appearance so much that it was still surprising to catch a glimpse of herself unexpectedly. Anne’s dresser had ruthlessly cut Aggie’s long braids; her auburn hair was now pulled up into a knot at the top of her head, with wispy curls falling over her forehead and ears, and she still felt rather a stranger to herself in this new guise.

Aggie smiled, shook her head, and tied the blue ribbons of her hat under her chin. How silly she was being. She needed Thalia to rally her on her pretensions, or Euphie to dance around her, laughing and teasing about her finery. This thought brought a sigh, but a timid knock at her door dispelled her gloom.

“Yes,” called Aggie. “Who is it?”

There was no response, so she walked over to the door and pulled it open. Outside, looking a little scared, stood Alice Wellfleet, dressed for walking. “Hello, Alice,” said Aggie warmly. “Are you ready to go out?”

The little girl nodded. “George said I should come to get you,” she added, as if in excuse.

“Well, I am ready, too. Just let me get my sunshade, and we will go. Come in.” Aggie held the door open, and Alice moved a few steps into the room. As she bent to pick up her sunshade, Brutus, who had been napping on a window ledge, suddenly raised his head and stared at the intruder. Suspicious, he jumped down and came over to walk slowly around the little girl.

“Oh, you have a kitten!” exclaimed Alice.

“Yes, didn’t you know? His name is Brutus.”

“Butus?”

“Brutus. It is an historical name. My aunt chose it; she named all her cats for historical personages.”

This information seemed to puzzle Alice, and she ignored it. “May I pat his head?” she asked.

“Of course. Do you like kittens?”

Alice, who had squatted on her haunches and was trying to coax Brutus closer, nodded enthusiastically. “Mother says I may have one of my own next year. But I must take care of it all myself.” Brutus came into grabbing range and was promptly scooped up into Alice’s arms, an indignity he protested with voice and claw. “Oooh,” cried Alice. “He scratched me.” She held out a tiny hand for Aggie to inspect. Three small pink lines showed on it.

“I see that he did. Cats are not fond of being picked up, you know. They are very independent creatures, and you must be very polite to them.”

Tears had been welling up in Alice’s eyes, but at this interesting information, they receded. “Must you?”

“Oh, yes. You cannot treat them at all as you would a dog, for example. Imagine a cat on a lead.”

The little girl frowned, evidently trying to picture such a thing. “But I was only trying to pat him,” she said.

“I know. But you must do so carefully. Like this.” Aggie walked over to the window, to which Brutus had returned, and ran a hand gently down his sandy fur. “You see? You cannot maul him about.”

Brutus looked up at her disdainfully and wriggled away from her hand.

Aggie laughed. “And even when you are, cats sometimes prefer their own company to yours.”

Alice stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Are we going for a walk?” asked an aggrieved voice from the doorway. And George came into the room. “I’ve been ready for ages.”

Aggie laughed again. “We are. We’re going right now. Come along.”

“Let’s bring Butus,” suggested Alice.

The older girl considered. Brutus had not yet been outside, but he was a lively animal and needed more space than he had in the house. She was afraid, though, that he would scamper off and be lost. “I’ll take him in his basket,” she concluded. “We can let him run in the garden when we come back.” And she accordingly put a reluctant kitten into his basket and set out with it on her arm.

They walked through the back garden and out into the fields beyond. The children’s favorite route was over a hill and down to a small shallow stream that meandered through the next valley, punctuated by trees and a few great mossy stones, and they headed this way today. George ran on ahead, coming back occasionally to show Aggie something he had found. Alice moved between her brother and her governess, seeming to want to cling to both.

They climbed the hill and went down the other side, reaching the stream quickly. Aggie led them to a charming spot where an old willow overhung the water and a wide flat stone made a comfortable seat. This place also had the advantage of being very safe. In spots, the stream deepened to two or three feet, but here it ran over a gravel bar and reached no more than three inches. Alice and George were allowed to play at the edge, as long as they did not venture in and get wet, and George delighted in launching endless sticks, leaves, and pieces of bark as “ships of the line,” watching them whirl away downriver with great interest. He settled happily to this game now, sending his sister out foraging for suitable ship material.

Aggie sat down on the rock and, after a moment’s hesitation, opened Brutus’s basket. Immediately his head appeared above the rim, and she lifted him out. “Now, sir,” she said, holding the kitten up to her face. “If I let you down, you must promise to stay close by and to avoid the water. Unless you mind your manners, I shall never bring you outside again. Do you understand me?”

“Yeoow,” replied Brutus.

Aggie eyed him suspiciously. “Yes, very likely. Well, we shall try this experiment once.” And she put him down on the ground.

Brutus bounded over to the stream, bent to sniff it, and backed abruptly away. Aggie laughed. “You have some sense.” The kitten then proceeded to investigate the various plants and weeds growing nearby. He showed no signs of running away, and after a few minutes Aggie relaxed her vigilant watch over him.

Alice had unearthed a particularly large and flat piece of bark, and she and George were happily embellishing it with such amenities as leaf sails and twig oars before launching. Everything seemed tranquil. Aggie pulled some paper and a pencil from her basket and, keeping one eye on the children, began writing a letter to Thalia.

The sun moved up the morning sky, and the green shadows shifted. Aggie put down the news of the previous day, glancing up often to see that George was not getting wet. She heard him telling his sister, “There. That is the way it should be. Of course, a
real
ship would have a crew, and passengers, like… like that. They would stand on deck.”

“Butus doesn’t
want
to,” replied Alice.

Aggie looked up sharply. George had set the kitten in the middle of his bark boat and was trying to get Brutus to take a twig oar in his mouth. “George!” she exclaimed. “Stop that immediately.”

The boy started, his hand jerking away from the bark. At once the lazy current took hold of the light vessel and carried it out of arm’s reach. Brutus expressed his extreme indignation by hissing at the water, his fur all on end.

“Oh, no,” said Aggie. “Now, look what you’ve done.”

“I didn’t
mean
to,” retorted George passionately. “You scared me. I wasn’t going to let go until I took him off. I was only showing Alice.”

“Well, you should not have been showing her in that way. Accidents can always happen.”

They had all risen and begun to walk along the bank, following Brutus and his “craft.” The current was not particularly rapid, and there were no rocks or other hazards likely to tip the bark over, but the stream moved steadily along, carrying the kitten farther with each minute. Brutus yowled angrily, glaring at his mistress.

“I’ll get him,” said George, sitting down and beginning to take off his boots.

“You will do no such thing,” responded Aggie decisively. “Put your boot back on. We don’t know how deep the water is here, and I will not allow you to go into the stream in any case. Your mother would be very angry.”

“Wouldn’t,” said George. “She’d laugh.”

Aggie declined to dispute this highly likely assertion. Instead, she walked farther along the bank, looking anxiously ahead for a narrow place where she might reach Brutus. The children ran along behind her.

“Are you just going to leave him?” asked George.

“Butus’ll drown,” wailed Alice.

“He’ll do no such thing. I’m only waiting for a good place, then I’m going to get him out,” said Aggie. But she eyed the water doubtfully. She had no wish to ruin her new stockings and dress by wading in, and perhaps falling—the stones looked slippery.

They continued along the bank, but no likely rescue spot appeared. In fact, the stream was widening, and Brutus was farther away than ever. At last Aggie stopped and sat down on a large rock to take off her shoes. “I shall have to go in,” she said. But before she could make the attempt, George began waving his arms and jumping up and down wildly.

“Sir, sir!” he shouted. “Over here.”

Aggie, in stocking feet, turned to discover a gentleman riding a brown mare toward them. Hastily she redonned her shoes. The rider, a fresh-faced young man of about twenty, pulled up before them. “Is something wrong?” he asked pleasantly.

“Our kitten is in the water,” replied George. “You know my father. I have seen you at our house.” He added this as if to validate his summoning of the man.

He swung down from his horse. “Have you? But where is this kitten?”

“Oh, you needn’t… that is, I was going to… it is quite our fault…” stammered Aggie. She had been mortified when George called this stranger to their aid. And now that it appeared he actually meant to go into the water, she was even more embarrassed.

The man turned to her and stopped dead, transfixed. His mouth fell a little open, and frank admiration showed in his eyes. Aggie turned redder yet.

George tugged at the man’s coattail. “Come on,” he said. “He’s over here.”

“What? Oh, oh, yes, of course.” Together they hurried down the bank, and the man hastily removed his boots and waded in to retrieve the kitten. In a moment he was back, handing Brutus to Aggie with a flourish. “He’s not hurt,” he told her, “but this adventure hasn’t helped his temper.” The man sucked at a finger Brutus had gracelessly scratched during his rescue.

Indeed, Brutus was in a foul humor. He clawed at Aggie, too, and soon induced her to put him down. Once on the grass, he turned his back on all the humans and began to lick his foreleg ostentatiously.

Aggie and the gentleman laughed. “Oh, I do thank you,” said the former. “I was just about to go in myself.”

“Then I’m doubly glad I happened along.”

“Well, I would have gotten him, but Miss Hartington wouldn’t let me,” put in George stoutly. “You
are
a friend of my father’s, aren’t you?” He asked this as if checking credentials.

The gentleman, who had been staring fixedly at Aggie, said, “What? I don’t know, really. Who is…? Wait a minute, aren’t you the Wellfleet boy? Of course, I know your father very well.”

George nodded happily. “I knew I had seen you.”

“I should introduce myself,” he continued. “I am John Dudley. I live about five miles from here.”

“John Dudley?” echoed Aggie. She stared up at the brown-haired man.

“Yes. Am I mistaken, or have we met? Your name sounds very familiar, though I can’t imagine I would have forgotten meeting
you
.” His smile as he said this was warm.

“I am Aglaia Hartington,” answered the girl. “My family used to live not far from here, and I think we—”

“Uglea!” exclaimed Mr. Dudley, and blushed bright crimson all the way to his ears.

Aggie laughed. “You are Johnny Dudley, then! I wasn’t certain. It has been a long time.”

“I am. The graceless Johnny Dudley.”

“Yes. You used to make such a game of my silly name. I have never forgotten.”

“Alas,” he groaned.

Aggie laughed again. “Well, I can’t blame you. It is hard to say. But I hope you will not call me Uglea anymore.”

Dudley’s pleasant blue eyes sparkled. “Never! Even I am not so doltish, or so blind.”

Aggie colored a little, and looked down.

“Butus is going into the trees,” commented Alice dispassionately.