“But I cannot admit that you are what may be called a governess, Valerie. You are a young friend staying with me, who instructs my niece.”
“That is what a governess ought to be,” replied I, “a young friend who instructs your children.”
“I grant it,” replied Madame Bathurst; “but I fear if you were to take the situation in another family, you would find that a governess is not generally so considered or so treated. I do not know any class of people, who are more to be pitied than these young people who enter families as governesses; not considered good enough for the drawing-room, they are too good for the kitchen; they are treated with hauteur by the master and mistress, and only admitted, or suffered for a time to be in their company; by the servants they are considered as not having claims to those attentions and civilities, for which they are paid and fed; because receiving salaries, or ‘wages like themselves,’ as they assert, they are not entitled in their opinion to be attended upon. Thus are they, in most houses, neglected by all parties. Unhappy themselves, they cause ill-will and dissension, and more servants are dismissed, or given warning, on account of the governesses, than from any other cause. In the drawing-room they are a check upon conversation; in the school-room, if they do their duty, they are the cause of discontent, pouting and tears; like the bat, they are neither bird nor beast, and they flit about the house like ill-omens; they lose the light-heartedness and spring of youth; become sour from continual vexation and annoyance, and their lives are miserable, tedious, and full of repining. I tell you this candidly; it is a harsh picture, but I fear too true a one. With me I trust you will be happy, but you will run a great risk if you were to change and go into another family.”
“I have heard as much before, my dear madame,” replied I; “but your considerate kindness has made me forget it. I can only say that it will be a melancholy day when I am forced to quit your roof.”
Visitors announced, interrupted the conversation. I have before mentioned the talent I had for dress, and the kindness of Madame Bathurst, induced me to exert all that I possessed in her favour. Every one was pleased, and expressed admiration at the peculiar elegance of her attire, and asked who was the modiste she employed, and Madame Bathurst never failed to ascribe all the merit to me.
Time passed on rapidly, and the season was nearly over. Madame Bathurst had explained to her most intimate friends the alteration which had taken place in my prospects, and that I remained with her more as a companion than in any other capacity. This procured me consideration and respect, and I very often had invitations to parties; but I invariably refused; except, occasionally, accepting a seat in the box at the Opera and French plays I was content to remain quiet.
Madame Paon had, as I requested, sent me a letter of introduction to a friend of hers, a Monsieur Gironac, who lived in Leicester Square. He was a married man, without family. He obtained his livelihood by giving lessons on the flute, on the guitar, and in teaching French during the day, and at night was engaged as second violin in the orchestra of the Opera House; so that he had many strings to his bow, besides those of his fiddle. His wife, a pretty little lively woman, taught young ladies to make flowers in wax, and mended lace in the evenings. They were a very amiable and amusing couple, always at good-natured warfare with each other, and sparring all day long, from the time they met until they parted. Their battles were the most comical and amusing I ever witnessed, and generally ended in roars of laughter. They received me with the greatest kindness and consideration, treating me with great respect, until our extreme intimacy no longer required it, and our friendship increased more than it could have done from Caroline expressing a wish to learn to model flowers, and becoming the pupil of Madame Gironac. Such was the state of affairs when the London season was over, and we once more returned to the country.
The time flew away rapidly. Madame Bathurst treated me with kindness and respect, Caroline with affection, and I was again quite happy and contented. I was earnest in my endeavours to improve Caroline, and moreover had the satisfaction to feel and hear it acknowledged that my attempts were not thrown away. I looked forward to remaining at least till Caroline’s education was complete, which it could not be under two or three years, and feeling security for such a period I gave myself little thought of the future, when a circumstance occurred which put an end to all my calculations.
I have stated that Caroline was the niece of Madame Bathurst; she was the daughter of a younger sister who had contracted an unfortunate marriage, having eloped with a young man who had not a shilling that he could call his own, and whose whole dependence was upon an uncle, without a family. This imprudent match had, however, raised the indignation of his relative, who from that moment told him he was to expect nothing from him either before or after his death. The consequence was that Madame Bathurst’s sister and husband were in a state of great distress, until Madame Bathurst, by exerting herself in his behalf, procured for him a situation of 300 pounds per annum in the Excise. Upon this sum, and the occasional presents of Madame Bathurst, they contrived to live, but having two boys and a girl to educate, Madame Bathurst took charge of the latter, who was Caroline, promising that she would either establish her in life, or leave her a sufficiency at her death. Madame Bathurst had a very large jointure, and could well afford to save up every year for Caroline, which she had done ever since she had taken charge of her, at seven years old. At the time that I have been speaking of, it appeared that the uncle of the father of Caroline died, and notwithstanding his threat bequeathed to his nephew the whole of his large property, by which he became even more wealthy than Madame Bathurst. The consequence was that Madame Bathurst received a letter announcing this intelligence, and winding up with a notification that Caroline was to be immediately taken back to her father’s house. In the letter—which I read, for Madame Bathurst, who was in great distress, handed it to me, observing at the time, “This concerns you as well as me and Caroline.”—There were not any expressions of gratitude for the great kindness which they had received from her hands; it was an unkind, unfeeling letter, and I was disgusted when I had gone through it.
“Is this all the return that you receive for what you have done for your sister and her husband?” observed I; “the more I see of this world, the more I hate it.”