Lady Lucy's secret

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"Yes; and that is another reason for my staying. I don't trust Hannah. No, Anne: I love Lady Lucy, but I shall not leave Mrs. Bernard. Her husband was kind to mine when he needed kindness; her son was my foster-child, and dear to me as my own; and, for their sakes as well as hers, I shall stay."

And so Margery stayed; and, when Hannah left, she became in time the sole servant in the lonely, deserted Grange House, where Mrs. Bernard wore her life away in bitter recollections, with nothing to sustain her but her own pride and resentment.

Lucy had learned no lessons, nor performed any tasks, as she was accustomed to call them, since she came to Stanton Court. She had suffered greatly in health under Aunt Bernard's discipline, and especially under the last shock. She was timid, nervous, and depressed, afraid to speak, afraid to make a natural motion in presence of her elders, unable to imagine that any one could be kind to her or love her except Anne. She slept badly, and awoke feverish and without appetite; she was very soon tired with any exertion; and she had all the time a little, hard cough.

Cousin Debby was used to children. She had brought up six girls of her own, all of whom she had nursed through a somewhat delicate and sickly childhood, to be women of at least average health and strength. She saw that of lessons Lucy had lately had more than enough; and she wisely concluded that Lucy's health and spirits were to be cultivated, even at the expense of her present improvement in knowledge.

"A great many women get through the world pretty well without knowing much either of books or music," said she to her cousin, Lord Stanton; "but weak backs and nerves, and fits of vapours and hysterics, unfit a woman for any usefulness whatever. The child has been overworked, and needs rest."

And Lord Stanton had agreed with Cousin Deborah, and had bid her take her own course with Lucy. So, for the first few weeks, Lucy did little but run about the garden and grounds, and take rides on the donkey, with Cousin Debby walking by her side. But this morning Cousin Debby had decided she should begin some lessons again. So Lucy had learned a spelling-lesson, and practised on her lute for half an hour, and was now to do her task of sewing.

"What sort of work have you done most of?" asked Cousin Debby.

"Embroidery, and open-hem, and marking, and fine darning," said Lucy; "and oh, Cousin Debby, how I hate them all!"

Lucy looked scared as soon as she had said the words. Such a speech made in Aunt Bernard's hearing would have insured her an hour's additional work, if not a slap from the fan handle across her fingers; but Cousin Debby only smiled. She was glad to see that Lucy was beginning to feel a little freedom with her.

"Suppose, then, we try something else," said she. "The poor woman who lives at the porter's lodge has a pair of twins, born this morning; and she is but poorly provided with clothes for them. Suppose I cut out a flannel petticoat for one of them and show you how to make it?"