“You are very kind,” said Gertrude, “but really you must not trouble yourself so. Floss is a most peculiar child. I think she is happier with her nurse than with anyone else, and I find that being taken notice of spoils her temper, so I do not have her much downstairs. I am so sorry I cannot stay out longer just now to show you the gardens and what there is to see, but I have several letters to write. And oh, by-the-by, that reminds me, Beauchamp wished me not to let you forget to order your mourning. Under the circumstances, you see, of Beauchamp’s being poor Roger’s heir, your mourning will have to be deeper than would be ordinarily worn for a second cousin.”
“Yes,” said Eugenia again. “I was thinking of writing about it to-day.”
“Indeed,” said Gertrude, a little surprised, “where were you thinking of ordering it? I was going to say I would write to my dressmaker (I think her the very best) and ask her to send down a list of what you should have. Your commoner dresses I suppose you leave to your maid!”
“I have no maid at present,” said Eugenia. “The one who was partly maid to Syd—to my sister and me—is remaining with my father as his housekeeper. I am going to have a niece of hers for my maid—a very nice girl, whom I have known all my life. She is at Wareborough now, learning a little from her aunt, and she will be ready for me when we go there on our way to—”
“Bridgenorth,” she was going to have said, forgetting the complete reversal of all their plans, but remembering it in time to stop short.
“To Halswood?” suggested Gertrude. “Wareborough can hardly be called on the road to Halswood. Halswood, you know, is near Chilworth, quite three hours from Marly Junction. But as to your maid—I hardly think you will find an inexperienced girl sufficient now. It is quite different from if you had been going to live quietly at Bridgenorth. Beauchamp will of course send in his papers at once, and he is pretty sure to get leave till he is gazetted out. I daresay I can help you to find a good maid without much difficulty.”
“You are very kind,” said Eugenia, in her turn, “but I should not like to give up Barbara’s niece without a trial. As for my mourning dresses I think it will be best to write to the dressmaker at home who has always worked for me. I can at least get from her what I want at first.”
“A Wareborough dressmaker!” exclaimed Gertrude, lifting her eyebrows. “My dear Eugenia, you must excuse me, but I don’t think that sort of thing will please Beauchamp. He is so very particular.”
“I know he is,” replied Eugenia, quietly, “and therefore I always study to please him. He likes all the dresses I have, and no one can be more particular than I am about their fitting well. The person I speak of made this one,” touching the pretty lavender dress she was wearing, “and the one I had on last night. Don’t you think they fit well?”
“I really have not particularly observed,” said Gertrude, less cordially. “I dare say they do, but fitting is not everything.”