While she was at the deanery there sprung up a renewed friendship between her and Lizzie. It was, indeed, chiefly a one-sided friendship; for Lucy, who was quick and unconsciously capable of reading that book to which we alluded in a previous chapter, was somewhat afraid of the rich widow. And when Lizzie talked to her of their old childish days, and quoted poetry, and spoke of things romantic—as she was much given to do—Lucy felt that the metal did not ring true. And then Lizzie had an ugly habit of abusing all her other friends behind their backs. Now Lucy did not like to hear the Greystocks abused, and would say so. “That’s all very well, you little minx,” Lizzie would say playfully, “but you know that they are all asses!” Lucy by no means thought that the Greystocks were asses, and was very strongly of opinion that one of them was as far removed from being an ass as any human being she had ever known. This one was Frank Greystock, the barrister. Of Frank Greystock some special—but, let it be hoped, very short—description must be given by-and-by. For the present it will be sufficient to declare that, during that short Easter holiday which he spent at his father’s house in Bobsborough, he found Lucy Morris to be a most agreeable companion.
“Remember her position,” said Mrs. Dean to her son.
“Her position! Well;—and what is her position mother?”
“You know what I mean, Frank. She is as sweet a girl as ever lived, and a perfect lady. But with a governess, unless you mean to marry her, you should be more careful than with another girl, because you may do her such a world of mischief.”
“I don’t see that at all.”
“If Lady Fawn knew that she had an admirer, Lady Fawn would not let her come into her house.”
“Then Lady Fawn is an idiot. If a girl be admirable, of course she will be admired. Who can hinder it?”
“You know what I mean, Frank.”
“Yes—I do; well. I don’t suppose I can afford to marry Lucy Morris. At any rate, mother, I will never say a word to raise a hope in her—if it would be a hope—”
“Of course it would be a hope.”
“I don’t know that at all. But I will never say any such word to her—unless I make up my mind that I can afford to marry her.”
“Oh, Frank, it would be impossible!” said Mrs. Dean.
Mrs. Dean was a very good woman, but she had aspirations in the direction of filthy lucre on behalf of her children, or at least on behalf of this special child, and she did think it would be very nice if Frank would marry an heiress. This, however, was a long time ago, nearly two years ago; and many grave things had got themselves transacted since Lucy’s visit to the deanery. She had become quite an old and an accustomed member of Lady Fawn’s family. The youngest Fawn girl was not yet fifteen, and it was understood that Lucy was to remain with the Fawns for some quite indefinite time to come. Lady Fawn’s eldest daughter, Mrs. Hittaway, had a family of her own, having been married ten or twelve years, and it was quite probable that Lucy might be transferred. Lady Fawn fully appreciated her treasure, and was, and ever had been, conscientiously anxious to make Lucy’s life happy. But she thought that a governess should not be desirous of marrying, at any rate till a somewhat advanced period of life. A governess, if she were given to falling in love, could hardly perform her duties in life. No doubt, not to be a governess, but a young lady free from the embarrassing necessity of earning bread, free to have a lover and a husband, would be upon the whole nicer. So it is nicer to be born to £10,000 a year than to have to wish for £500. Lady Fawn could talk excellent sense on this subject by the hour, and always admitted that much was due to a governess who knew her place and did her duty. She was very fond of Lucy Morris, and treated her dependent with affectionate consideration;—but she did not approve of visits from Mr. Frank Greystock. Lucy, blushing up to the eyes, had once declared that she desired to have no personal visitors at Lady Fawn’s house; but that, as regarded her own friendships, the matter was one for her own bosom. “Dear Miss Morris,” Lady Fawn had said, “we understand each other so perfectly, and you are so good, that I am quite sure everything will be as it ought to be.” Lady Fawn lived down at Richmond all the year through, in a large old-fashioned house with a large old-fashioned garden, called Fawn Court. After that speech of hers to Lucy, Frank Greystock did not call again at Fawn Court for many months, and it is possible that her
