Jennie About to Be Read Online Free PDF Page A

governess would appreciate that. The next governess . . . Leaving the children made her feel like a criminal. But they’d have had someone else if I hadn’t come , she thought, and it’s not as if I shan’t be seeing them again . After all , I’m not eloping into utter disgrace like Lady Caroline Wellesley and her cavalry officer . I’m simply going home .
    After morning lessons the children went to play in the garden, and Jennie went to her room and took off the full holland apron guarding her violet-sprigged muslin morning gown from the wear and tear of governess life. She tucked up the hair that had come loose from the knot while they were dramatizing the Crusades, and washed her hands and face. Then she went down to the morning room, where Aunt Higham was entertaining early callers. She would rather have gone out and played rounders or Indians in the garden, which was a sooty and pathetic substitute for the moors and the seashore of home but was better than the absurd ritual of the morning room. Charlotte was allowed to join now, and she always entered the room in the poignant, ardent belief that something wonderful was going to happen.
    Certainly nothing wonderful happened this morning. No males called, not even George Vinton. The girls had to sit erect, ankles genteelly crossed and hands gracefully folded while the ladies talked twaddle in the accent that sounded ridiculously affected to Jennie; she could hardly believe that Aunt Higham really cared about this nonsense. Charlotte was disappointed and trying so hard to keep still that she grew quite flushed and her eyes became watery as if she were feverish. Aunt Higham could not abide a fidget and said men couldn’t either. A fidget was as bad as a rattle anytime.
    Mavis appeared to announce that the carriage had come for Lady Clarke, and the last caller arose to go. “Adieu until three then,” she cried. She was a bedizened old rack of bones who had talked on and on in a high, honking voice until even Aunt Higham became restive.
    She was quickly on her feet now, agreeing, “Until three.” They touched cheeks. Lady Clarke didn’t keep a carriage; she could barely keep herself. Out of duty or pity, friends dropped her here and there, collecting her later.
    When she had left the room, honking amiably away at Mavis, no one moved until the sound of her voice was shut off by the closing front door. “We will drive in the park this afternoon,” Aunt Higham announced. “It’s very warm and fine. Mademoiselle can give the children their French in the garden. Charlotte, you’ll come with us today. Wear your rose pelerine and the bonnet to match; it puts color in your face.”
    â€œOh, Mama!” Clearly the horrid session in the morning was worth it now.
    â€œJennie, you will wear your lilac.”
    â€œYes, Aunt.” Well, she’d paid for the clothes; she could give the orders. There’d be no meeting with George Vinton this afternoon, and the hope of today’s escape had gone a-glimmering. But George would surely come tonight.
    At a quarter of three, the girls met their commanding officer in the foyer and were inspected while Mavis stood by, professionally impassive.
    â€œYou look very well,” Aunt Higham said. “I see you haven’t forgotten your gloves and your reticules.” Charlotte had reminded Jennie of these necessities. She had no clean handkerchief in her reticule, but her aunt needn’t know that , she thought with invigorating defiance.
    â€œYou look very handsome yourself, Aunt,” she said.
    â€œOh, Mama, you do!” Charlotte breathed.
    â€œPerhaps,” her mother admitted sternly. She wore a plum-colored mantle, and matching plumes dipped softly from the crown of her straw hat; like Jennie’s, its brim was turned up roguishly on one side, but Jennie’s hat was trimmed with silk lilacs. “Put your gloves on before you go out,”