My Dear Jenny by Madeleine E. Robins Page A

Emily is Emily and you are you?”
    Jenny congratulated herself silently: She had neither
laughed at this absurd proposal, nor at Domenic’s complete seriousness in
making it. “Even if I could, I would not. I’ve already informed your mother of
her mistake. Granted she don’t know who Emily is , but she does know that I am not her. All I say is that you must
act with a little more thought, or Emily might be hurt, and I know you cannot
want that.”
    “No, Ma’am. Not at all. I’ll try, then, although I’m not
sure what I am trying at.”
    “Well enough for now, my dear.” Jenny reached out and patted
the boy’s hand. “Just try not to antagonize your mamma where Emily is
concerned.” Dominic blushed, thanked her, and was about to inquire as to the
particulars of his mother’s interview with Jenny when Peter Teverley appeared
at his shoulder.
    “I think, from your mamma’s glances, that we are desired
back in our seats. You will pardon us?” They made their farewells and left.
    Emily and Mirabelle, returning to their whispers, had a
whole new field of conversation: Mirabelle questioned Emily closely about
Domenic, whom she regarded as delightful, and Emily demanded of her friend
whether Peter Teverley’s attentions to her had not seemed most marked. An
altercation seemed about to transpire when Mirabelle announced that she hadn’t
seen anything of the sort, and if it had not been for the beginning of the
farce, they might well have come to blows. Jenny turned her attention with
relief to the travesty on stage.
    When all the possible cast had been married off, the curtain
had fallen, and the diva had returned to the stage for one last, quivering bow,
Mrs. Temple shook off her lethargy. She suggested that, in hope of avoiding
some of the crowd, they leave before the musical selection was played. With
that conservation of motion practiced only by the very lazy, she herded her
flock out of the box and through the already filling hallways. Jenny, a few
steps behind—in consequence of retrieving a shawl and two reticules left
by the girls—was separated from the party and heard only Mrs. Temple’s
assurance, over the heads of the crowd, that they would wait for her below.
After that she gave her attention to maneuvering her way out of the theater.
    She had begun to think that she might, after all, make it
down the stairs with her property intact—for there seemed to be hundreds
of little boys picking pockets in the hallways—and without undue injury,
when she was confronted by Lady Teeve, who had deliberately cut off her exit.
    “A companion?” Lady Teeve sneered. “A fine companion you
look in those feathers and stones, miss! I can almost understand how you
bewitched my poor boy. And I can see that Peter is head-over-ears as well. That serves him right, I must say. Well, it won’t wash. I was ready to believe you
this afternoon, but I will not be bamboozled again. You are not to entice my son,
do you hear me?”
    Jenny, white with shock at the public attack, forced herself
to choose her words with caution, lest she ruin not only herself but Emily—and
her family as well, perhaps.
    “Lady Teeve, I was not lying to you this afternoon, nor am I
lying now when I swear to you that I am not who you believe me to be, and that I have no designs of any sort upon
your son. He is a dear, sweet boy, and thinks of me as an older sister or an
aunt. As for his feelings toward anyone else, I cannot believe that they can
be, at his age, more than merest puppy love, which will, without interference,
probably die of itself. I can assure you that you have nothing to worry over
from me—or from Miss Pellering, who thinks him an agreeable friend and
nothing more. And I suggest that we end this discussion now, before we cause a
scene.”
    Lady Teeve glared at Jenny. “ My reputation can stand
a scene, girl. Can yours?”
    Jenny cast an eye at the growing crowds, then at Lady Teeve,
who remained planted directly in her