Loveday's history

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

My only trouble was Mistress Jenny Green, whom I came absolutely to hate. She was always catechising me about my uncle's family, what company they kept, what furniture, etc., they had, where we went to church, and all sorts of trifling particulars. At other times she would spend hours in bewailing her hard lot, and describing the fine things she had enjoyed in her London home.

Truly, if she spent half what she said, 'tis no wonder her husband became bankrupt, poor man. Then she took a great fit of devotion—would go to matins and vespers and all other services at a convent church not far-away; kept fasts and vigils, and had even made up her mind to receive from the priest of that house the widow's mantle and ring; * but a suitor from London turning up in the shape of a smart young draper, she changed her mind, married him on the instant, and went away to London, to the great relief of her own family, and the scandal of the priest aforesaid. This I have learned since. I was too young to know much about it at the time, only I well remember how glad we were to see her go.

* It was formerly a custom for widows who did not desire to marry again to make a vow to that effect, at which time they received a mantle and ring. A breach of this vow was counted very disgraceful.

It was now drawing toward midsummer, and my health being fairly settled again, I was sent for home. I parted with my kind hostess and her family with real regret, which I fear was not altogether unselfish. At the farm I was quite a great lady, petted and waited on, and treated with great consideration.

At home, I was only little Loveday—a child of the family, taking my place with the others, having my daily tasks, and checked and reproved if I did them amiss. I began to be sullen and discontented, careless about my lessons and my work, and pert when spoken to.

One day my uncle heard me give my Aunt Joyce a very saucy answer (which I had never dared to do had I known he was by). He ordered me at once to beg her pardon, and when transported with passion I refused, he punished me severely, and ordered that I should be kept in penitence till I submitted. I dare say I should have done the same thing in his place, and yet I do not think it was the best way in my own case. I had enough of my family spirit to know how to cherish a grudge. I thought my aunt was wrong in blaming me (as indeed she was, for I am confident I never touched the glass she charged me with breaking); my Corbet blood was roused, and I would not give way. I had my meals by myself for several days, and was not spoken to by any of the family.

There was one person in the house who thoroughly rejoiced in my disgrace, and that was old Madge. She had always been jealous of me, being one of those people to whom it seems necessary if they love one person or thing, to hate some other person or thing in exact proportion. Madge fancied, I believe, that my adoption by my uncle would lessen by just so much the portions of her darlings, Katherine and Avice. They could do nothing wrong in her eyes. We were required to put our rooms and beds to rights. Katherine was apt to be rather careless, more so than myself, but while Madge would always pick up and put away for her, she took care that any little sluttishness of mine should be sure to meet my aunt's eye. Nay, I used to accuse her in mine own mind (and I am not sure now that I was wrong) of purposely putting my affairs out of order that I might get a reproof. However that might be, my faults lost nothing in her hands.

Madge's granddaughter was one of our maids, and a spiteful thing she was, and quite ready to follow her grandmother's lead, so far as I was concerned. She had a bachelor who was a journeyman of my Lord Mayor, and they were to be married in the course of the summer. 'Twas a match rather above her degree, but Betty was a pretty creature, and knew how to ingratiate herself well enough. My aunt had promised her her body and house linen, and also her wedding gown.

It was the day before St. John's eve, whereon the marching watch was to be set forth with greater bravery than usual. I had heard a great deal from my cousins about this splendid show on St. John's eve. The citizens of London were accustomed to set tables before their doors plentifully laden with meats and drinks, whereof all passers-by were invited to partake. The houses were decorated with lamps and cressets, and the doors shadowed with canopies of sweet herbs and all sorts of flowers. Every body was abroad to see the marching watch in their bright harness, with their attendants bearing cressets upon poles, while others carried oil wherewith to feed them. Then there were pageants, morris dancers, and musicians without end. It was, indeed, a goodly and gallant show.

Great heaps of flowers and herbs had been sent in from the farm, and my aunt and cousins, with the maids, were busy weaving garlands. The cook and his assistants were well-nigh driven frantic by the heat and their cares, while Sambo flitted here and there like a magpie, helping every one, and showing his white teeth with endless grins and chuckles. Sambo was my firm friend and took my part on all occasions, which did not help me with Dame Madge. I should have been in the thickest of the plot at any other time, and my assistance was not to be despised, small as I was, but no one asked me to help, and I wandered about, feeling very forlorn and bitter, indeed, and wishing that Mother Benedict would come and carry me away to the convent.