Closely inspecting me for a moment, he answered. “There is no necessity for you to dress. You look well enough just as you are, and you must not fatigue yourself any more. I shall get you excused in a little while, and sometime after you are thoroughly rested, Angeline shall give a large party at her own house, where you’ll have an opportunity to display all the ‘fixins,’” and he laughed, thinking, I suppose, he had said something smart.
My dress was a dark blue merino, trimmed on the basque and sleeves with black velvet. It fitted neatly, and was, I knew, unusually becoming; so after arranging my curls and donning a clean linen collar, I took my husband’s arm and went down to the drawing-room, where I found about forty people assembled. With a few of them I was already acquainted, while the majority were only known to me by sight; for though I had often seen them at Cedar Grove, they had not thought it worth their while to notice a mere governess. Now, however, as Ada had said, matters were changed, and Richard Delafield’s wife could not be slighted with impunity. Consequently I was for a time overwhelmed with compliments and attention; some with whom I had never before spoken, expressing their delight at seeing me back again, while others said that a bride was just what was wanting to give éclat to the winter gaieties.
Close to my side kept Ada, assuming a kind of patronizing manner and answering for me whenever she thought the conversation beyond my depth. Of course she threw me quite in the shade, and in a measure she had her reward, for she, as well as I, heard a lady, a stranger in W——, say, “How much more beautiful Miss Montrose is than the bride. I wonder Mr. Delafield did not prefer her.”
There was a look of exultation on Ada’s face as her eyes met mine, but it passed away as we heard the answer made by Miss Porter, a lady whom Ada thought exceedingly aristocratic. “Yes,” said she, “Miss Montrose is rather pretty, but she is fading fast, and I suppose Mr. Delafield preferred the freshness of youth to the decay of beauty, and for my part, I approve his choice, and think her a very pretty little creature.”
I glanced at my husband—he, too, heard the remark and it pleased him, I knew, while Ada crossed over to the opposite side of the room and I saw her no more, for Richard soon asked for me to be excused; a request which the company readily granted, saying, “I must of course be tired.”
It was late when Richard came up to our room, and I saw in a moment that something was the matter, for his face wore the dark, hard look it sometimes did when he was disturbed. I did not then ask the cause of his annoyance, but afterwards I learned that the moment the guests were gone, Ada, whose feelings were a good deal ruffled, not only at the attention I had received, but also at the remark of Miss Porter, commenced censuring my husband for having suffered me to appear in the drawing-room in my travelling dress. “’Twas an insult to the company,” she said, “and they could excuse it on no other grounds save the supposition that I was entirely ignorant of etiquette in any form. I didn’t blame her so much,” said she, “for I suppose she didn’t know any better, but I was astonished at you.”
Ada had quite forgotten herself, or else she misunderstood the man with whom she had to deal. Very quietly he listened, but the storm was gathering within, and when she had finished, it burst upon her with a vengeance; he bidding her never again, either in his presence or the presence of any one, say aught disparagingly of his wife. “Her actions shall not be questioned by you,” said he, “and you shall treat her with deference, for in every respect she is your superior, save that of age, and there, I admit, you have the advantage.”
This decided the matter at once, for Ada was afraid of him, and though she could not conceal her dislike from me, she was in his presence always kind, considerate and sometimes even affectionate in her demeanor towards me, coming at last to call him “Uncle Dick,” in imitation of Halbert, and me “Aunt Rose,” particularly if there were any strangers present.
The morning following my arrival I was formally presented to the servants, who received me with many demonstrations of joy, the older portion “bressin’ de Lord they had lived to see Mars’r Richard look so happy and peart like as he did with the new Miss.” Only one eyed me at all askance, and that was Aunt Hagar, the housekeeper, who saw in me a rival—one who would henceforth wear jingling at her belt the huge bunch of keys, which for so long a time had been to her a badge of honor. Then, too, the old lady, like my other new relatives, had some fears “that Miss Rose didn’t ‘long to the quality, and that Mars’r Richard had done histed hisself down a peg or so by marryin’ one who was brought up in de free states, whar dar warn’t nary nigger to fotch ’em a drink of water or fan when de sun was roastin’ hot.”
With a look of injured dignity, which made the steeple of a turban on her head tremble, she undid from her waist the bunch of keys, and offering them to me, said, “I ’spects these are yourn now.”