here,’ he said to the young man with whom he was playing billiards. ‘There is my friend Happerton coming out for that fellow Davenant’s Tiberius. Let us hope he has the bargain he thought, eh?’
Part Two
A Situation in the Country
It may sometimes happen that a young woman, though of good education and an amiable temper, garlanded with every golden opinion that long exposure to the best families can procure, may find herself not so conveniently situated as she might wish. In these circumstances she will apprehend that her accomplishments, her disposition and her good humour are of little moment, and that only fortitude will see her through .
The Young Lady’s Infallible Guide and Companion (1867)
AND SO IT was settled, and she was to go to Lincolnshire, and be governess to Mr Davenant’s daughter, and live in a great windy house that looked out over the wolds where there were more rooks than Christian folk: that was what Eliza said when Miss Ellington told her, although naturally she meant only to be kind. And when the letter came for her, although she had long expected it, Miss Ellington went out into the garden and was so very sad, thinking that she should never see the dear friends she had made there again, until Mrs Macfarlane seized her hand, and told her not to be a goose, as there was nothing here for her to do. Seeing the sense in this – for Eliza was to be married, and Jane to go to Miss Brotherton’s at Warwick and the schoolroom all emptied – and remembering what her mama had always told her, that she should be brave, Miss Ellington went inside and busied herself, played at ombre and read to old Mrs Macfarlane out of the newspaper, and Mr Macfarlane, coming in from his business, told her that she was a dear good girl and that they never should get along without her , and that a bedroom should be kept ready against her return, so that she altogether broke down, in spite of her best resolves, and shed tears all over the County Chronicle as she read.
‘You will be a country girl now, you’ll see,’ Eliza said, ‘with nothing to stir you but sheep and mangel-wurzels,’ and Miss Ellington said she could not see the difference, as they were very quiet and genteel here, and saw almost no one. ‘In any case it is not for a fortnight,’ Jane said, thinking to cheer her, ‘and we can be very jolly in that time.’ Yet Miss Ellington had to allow that the two weeks hung heavy on her hands, and though countless small recreations were proposed for her – a visit to Kenilworth, an excursion in Mr Murray’s carriage, he that was to marry Eliza – and though she professed to enjoy them, her heart was not in the business. She supposed it was always so, and that the soldier who is to be posted to India gets no pleasure from his furlough. She knew she got no pleasure from hers.
‘You are a sad girl, Annie, for all that you profess to be gay,’ Eliza had once told her, and Miss Ellington supposed that she was right. Certainly there was a moment as she sat in her room assembling her things when she was almost overcome with melancholy, for each had some pleasant association: the Christian Year that Mr Atherton had given her when she made her first Communion, and Macaulay’s essays that had been her father’s, a comforter that Jane worked for her one December and everyone thought was for Mrs Macfarlane. But then, having stowed these articles away, and reflected on her circumstances, she felt suddenly more bold and thought that there were other places in the world than Warwickshire and other folk than the Macfarlanes, for all their kindness, and that it would be a relief to get away from that odious Mr Murray, who had once taken her hand and tried to kiss her. She determined that she should make a list of her accomplishments, which her papa always said was the sovereignest way of inspiring confidence in a young woman.
Of my appearance I perhaps ought not to speak, other than to say that I am
Part Two
A Situation in the Country
It may sometimes happen that a young woman, though of good education and an amiable temper, garlanded with every golden opinion that long exposure to the best families can procure, may find herself not so conveniently situated as she might wish. In these circumstances she will apprehend that her accomplishments, her disposition and her good humour are of little moment, and that only fortitude will see her through .
The Young Lady’s Infallible Guide and Companion (1867)
AND SO IT was settled, and she was to go to Lincolnshire, and be governess to Mr Davenant’s daughter, and live in a great windy house that looked out over the wolds where there were more rooks than Christian folk: that was what Eliza said when Miss Ellington told her, although naturally she meant only to be kind. And when the letter came for her, although she had long expected it, Miss Ellington went out into the garden and was so very sad, thinking that she should never see the dear friends she had made there again, until Mrs Macfarlane seized her hand, and told her not to be a goose, as there was nothing here for her to do. Seeing the sense in this – for Eliza was to be married, and Jane to go to Miss Brotherton’s at Warwick and the schoolroom all emptied – and remembering what her mama had always told her, that she should be brave, Miss Ellington went inside and busied herself, played at ombre and read to old Mrs Macfarlane out of the newspaper, and Mr Macfarlane, coming in from his business, told her that she was a dear good girl and that they never should get along without her , and that a bedroom should be kept ready against her return, so that she altogether broke down, in spite of her best resolves, and shed tears all over the County Chronicle as she read.
‘You will be a country girl now, you’ll see,’ Eliza said, ‘with nothing to stir you but sheep and mangel-wurzels,’ and Miss Ellington said she could not see the difference, as they were very quiet and genteel here, and saw almost no one. ‘In any case it is not for a fortnight,’ Jane said, thinking to cheer her, ‘and we can be very jolly in that time.’ Yet Miss Ellington had to allow that the two weeks hung heavy on her hands, and though countless small recreations were proposed for her – a visit to Kenilworth, an excursion in Mr Murray’s carriage, he that was to marry Eliza – and though she professed to enjoy them, her heart was not in the business. She supposed it was always so, and that the soldier who is to be posted to India gets no pleasure from his furlough. She knew she got no pleasure from hers.
‘You are a sad girl, Annie, for all that you profess to be gay,’ Eliza had once told her, and Miss Ellington supposed that she was right. Certainly there was a moment as she sat in her room assembling her things when she was almost overcome with melancholy, for each had some pleasant association: the Christian Year that Mr Atherton had given her when she made her first Communion, and Macaulay’s essays that had been her father’s, a comforter that Jane worked for her one December and everyone thought was for Mrs Macfarlane. But then, having stowed these articles away, and reflected on her circumstances, she felt suddenly more bold and thought that there were other places in the world than Warwickshire and other folk than the Macfarlanes, for all their kindness, and that it would be a relief to get away from that odious Mr Murray, who had once taken her hand and tried to kiss her. She determined that she should make a list of her accomplishments, which her papa always said was the sovereignest way of inspiring confidence in a young woman.
Of my appearance I perhaps ought not to speak, other than to say that I am
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