"It's a shame," said Hadrian hotly. "And you of all people. You were always such a bully."
"I know. It's just retribution. The bully now bullied. Hoist with her own petard. Still, it's pleasant to know that some members of the household don't regard me as a pariah now that I have to perform the humiliating task of earning a living."
Theodosia came into the garden. She was in white muslin with pale blue dots and she wore a white straw hat with blue ribbons. She's grown quite pretty, I realized.
"I was thinking that it's like old times now we're all together," said Hadrian. "Evan and Tybalt ..." I noticed that Theodosia blushed slightly, and I thought of Jane's words. It was true then. No, it couldn't be! Not Tybalt and Theodosia. It was incongruous. But she was almost pretty; she was suitable; and she was an heiress. Surely Tybalt would not marry for money. But of course he would. It was the natural order of things. Sabina had not married for money, for Oliver as rector would have little of that useful commodity. How we had changed, all of us. Frivolous Sabina becoming the rector's wife; plain Theodosia to marry my wonderful Tybalt; and myself, the proud one, the one who had taken charge of the school room, to be the companion whose daily bread was service and humiliation.
"Evan, Tybalt, myself, you, Judith, and Sabina and Oliver in their rectory," Hadrian was saying.
"Yes," said Theodosia. She looked at me rather shyly apologetic because she had seen so little of me since I had come to Keverall Court. "It's . . . it's nice to have Judith here."
"Is it?" I said.
"But of course. You were always one of us, weren't you?"
"But now I am the companion merely."
"Oh, you've been listening to Mamma."
"I have to. It's part of the job."
"Mamma can be difficult."
"You don't have to be with her all the time," comforted Hadrian.
"There seems very little time when I'm not."
"We'll have to change that, won't we, Theodosia?"
Theodosia nodded and smiled.
These encounters lifted my spirits. It was to some extent a return to the old ways.
There was a great deal of talk about the coming ball.
"This will be the biggest we've had for years," Jane told me. "Miss Theodosia's coming out." She gave me her wink. "Timed, you see, when all these people are here. Lady B. is hoping there'll be an announcement before they go off to Egypt."
"Do you think that Mr. Travers would take his bride with him?"
"There won't be time for that by all accounts. There'll have to be the sort of wedding that takes months to prepare for, I reckon. Her ladyship wouldn't stand for anything else. No quiet little wedding like Sabina and the new rector had. Lady B. wouldn't let her only daughter go like that."
"Well," I said, "we haven't got them betrothed yet, have we?"
"Any day now, mark my words."
I began to believe she was right when I talked to Theodosia, who since the return of Hadrian was seeing far more of me than she had before. She seemed as though she wanted to make up to me for previously keeping out of my way.
The only time Lady Bodrean was the least bit affable to me was when she talked of Theodosia's coming out ball; I knew at once that she was hoping to make me envious. Theodosia could have had all the balls she wanted if she had left me Tybalt.
"You might go along to the sewing room," Lady Bodrean told me, "and give Sarah Sloper a hand. There are fifty yards of lace to be sewn onto my daughter's ball gown. And in an hour's time I shall be ready for the reading and don't forget before you go, to walk Orange and Lemon."
Sarah Sloper was too good a dressmaker to allow me to put a stitch into her creation. There it was on the table—a froth of soft blue silk chiffon with the fifty yards of pale blue lace.
Theodosia was there for a fitting, so I helped get her into the dress. She was going to look lovely in it, I thought with a pang. I could imagine her floating round the ballroom in the arms of Tybalt.
"Do you like it, Judith?" she asked.
"The color is most becoming."
"I love dancing," she said. She waltzed round and I felt we were back in the schoolroom. I went to her and bowed. "Miss Bodrean, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"
She made a deep curtsy. I seized her and we danced round the room while Sarah Sloper watched us with a grin.
"How delightful you look tonight, Miss Bodrean."
"Thank you, sir."
"How gracious of you to thank me for the gifts nature has bestowed on you."
"Oh Judith you haven't changed a bit. I wish . . ."
Sarah Sloper had jumped to her feet suddenly and was bobbing a curtsy for Sir Ralph was standing in the doorway watching us dance.
Our dance came to an immediate halt. I wondered what he would say to see the companion dancing so familiarly with his daughter.
He was clearly not annoyed: "Rather graceful, didn't you think, Sarah?" he said.
"Why yes, sir, indeed, sir," stammered Sarah.
"So that's your ball dress, is it?"
"Yes, Father."
"And what about Miss Osmond, eh? Has she a ball dress?"
"I have not," I said.
"And why not?"
"Because a person in my position has no great use for such a garment."
I saw the familiar wag of the chin.
"Oh yes," he said, "you're the companion now. I hear of you from Lady Bodrean."
"Then I doubt you hear anything to my advantage."
I don't know why I was speaking to him in that way. It was an irresistible impulse even though I knew that I was being what would be termed insolent from one in my position and was imperiling my job.
"Very little," he assured me, with a lugubrious shake of the head. "In fact nothing at all."
"I feared so."
"Now do you? That's a change. I always had the impression that you were a somewhat fearless young lady." His bristling brows came together. "I don't see anything of you. Where do you get to?"
"I don't move in your circles, sir," I replied, realizing now that he at least bore me no malice and was rather amused at my pert retorts.
"I begin to think that's rather a pity."
"Father, do you like my gown?" asked Theodosia.
"Very pretty. Blue, is it?"
"Yes, Father."
He turned to me. "If you had one what color would it be?"
"It would be green, Father," said Theodosia. "It was always Judith's favorite color."
"That's said to be unlucky," he replied. "Or it was in my day. They used to say 'Green on Monday, Black on Friday.' But I'll swear Miss Osmond's not superstitious."
"Not about colors," I said. "I might be about some things."
"Doesn't do to think you're unlucky," he said. "Otherwise you will be."
Then he went out, his chin wagging.
Theodosia looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Now why did Father come in here?"
"You should know more about his habits than I do."
"I believe he's quite excited about my ball. Judith, Mrs. Grey was saying that you were reading books, some of which had been written by Sir Edward Travers. You must know quite a lot now about archaeology."
"Enough to know that I'm very ignorant about it. We both have a smattering, haven't we? We got that from Evan Callum."
"Yes," she said. "I wish I knew more."
She was animated. "I'm going to start reading. You must tell me what books you've had."
I understood of course. She was desperately anxious to be able to talk knowledgeably to Tybalt.
The invitations had been sent out; I had listed the guests and ticked them off when the acceptances came in. I had helped arrange what flowers would be brought from the greenhouses to decorate the ballroom, for it was October and the gardens could scarcely supply what was needed. I had compiled the dance programs and chosen the pink-and-blue pencils and the silken cords which would be attached to them. For the first time Lady Bodrean seemed pleased and I knew it was only because she wanted me to know what care went into the launching into society of a well-bred girl. She may have noticed that I was downcast at times and this put her into a good humor so that I wanted to shout at her: "I care nothing for these grand occasions; Theodosia is welcome to them. My melancholy has nothing to do with that."