"But he did notice me... enough to push me into the water."
"Well, if you don't want to marry him you can always say no."
"But you see, Mama wants it and . . ."
I nodded. What she wanted she usually got.
I comforted her. Her father would be on her side, so there was no reason why she should marry anyone if she didn't want to.
I had received instructions a few days before from Cousin Agatha. "You will make yourself useful, Ellen. In the supper room make sure that people are well served. Keep your eyes especially on Lady Emily, and see that she is well looked after. I shall find one or two gentlemen to whom I shall introduce you, and perhaps they may ask you to dance."
I could visualize the evening. Ellen the Poor Relation—in somber black to distinguish her from the real guests. "Ellen, do tell Wilton we need more salmon." Or "Ellen, poor old Mr. Something is sitting alone. Come and let me introduce you. He may ask you to dance." And there would be Ellen stumbling round with rheumaticky old Mr. Something when her feet longed to be gliding over the floor with a kindred spirit.
How different it was. Not at all what I had dreaded. Right from the first Philip was beside me.
"So you received my orchid," he said.
"Yours!"
"No one else would send you flowers, I hope."
I laughed, for he and I had always been special friends.
We danced together. I wondered if Cousin Agatha noticed and hoped so. How well our steps fitted! I knew they did because we used to dance together in the country—jigs we made up as we went along.
"Did you know I was here tonight as the Poor Relation?" I asked.
"What does that mean?"
"That I have to keep my eyes open for neglected guests."
"That's all right. You keep your eyes on me, for if you don't I shall feel very neglected."
"And you. . . one of the Carringtons!" I mocked.
"But only a younger son."
"Is Great Rollo here tonight?"
"Great Rollo is far away. He's hardly ever here."
"That makes you the catch of the season, I suppose."
"Listen," he said. "Let's talk. I've a good deal to say to you. Where can we get away to be quiet?"
"There are one or two smaller rooms on this floor. They have been set aside for private conversations."
"Let's go then."
"Ought you, or more important still, ought I? Cousin Agatha's eagle eyes will be searching for me soon if she has some aging gentleman who might care to amble round the floor with me."
"All the more reason why you should escape."
"Is this a game? We are not fourteen any more, remember."
"Thank heaven for that, and it's deadly serious."
"Is something wrong?"
"It could be quite the reverse, but I must talk to you, Ellen."
We sat in one of the small rooms in which were pots of plants, a settee and a few chairs. I sat on the settee and Philip was beside me.
"Ellen," he said, "I've been hearing things. Your servants talk to ours and ours to yours. These people know as much of our affairs as we do ourselves. More perhaps. The whispers indicate that you are indeed going away to be a governess to those odious Oman Lemming children."
"I've told you it's true."
"I didn't really believe it. You ... a governess!"
"The only occupation for a young lady of some gentility, education and no money."
"But why. . . after all these years?"
"Cousin Agatha was doing her duty to the defenseless child. Now the child has become a woman and must fend for herself, so she is being given a gentle but very firm push into the cruel world."
"We'll put a stop to that. We're not having you governessing to that woman. She's poisonous."
I turned to him abruptly and my fear of the future suddenly enveloped me in earnest.
He took me by the shoulders and, laughing, held me against him. "Ellen, you idiot, do you think I'd ever let you go?"
"What authority would you have to stop me?"
"The best of all authority. Of course you're not going to be governess to that woman's children! I happen to know they're terrors. I always meant it would be us two, Ellen. You and I are going to get married. That's the answer. I always meant we should."
"You . . . marry me! But you're going to marry Esmeralda. It's all arranged. That's what this dance is for."
"What nonsense!"
"That's where you're wrong. This dance is for Esmeralda, and I have it on good authority that during it or after it, they are hoping to announce your engagement to her."
"They say hope springs eternal in the human breast. But 'they,' by whom I presume you mean the Lorings, are going to find they have made a mistake. Engagement yes, but to Ellen not Esmeralda."
"You mean you'd announce your engagement to me tonight?"
"Of course. I always had a sense of the dramatic. You know that."
"What will your parents say?"
"They'll be delighted."
"To accept me! You're joking."
"I am not" He looked very serious. "My father likes you. He said you were amusing and he likes to be amused."
"And Lady Emily?"
"She'll like you too. She wants me to be happy above all else."
Perhaps, but they can't possibly want me as your wife."
"That's where you're wrong. I've hinted to them and they're full of approval. They think I ought to get married soon."
I just did not believe it. I was quite bewildered. Philip had always liked to joke. Of course Philip and I had always been the best of friends, to the exclusion of Esmeralda; he had always expressed disappointment when I did not appear at the social gatherings Cousin Agatha arranged. I should have known; I wasn't in love with him. I couldn't be, because I had imagined his marriage to Esmeralda without any great sorrow. The fact was that Cousin Agatha had so impressed on me my inferior status and the glory of the Carringtons that I could never imagine myself marrying into
