"Polly, I can't leave you."
"Better tell me," she said.
"I'm going to school. Lavinia and I are going."
"I see. I see. This is because of madam's little prank, eh? I shouldn't think school is going to stop that one. So you are going away to school, eh?"
"I won't go, Polly."
"It might be good for you."
"What about you?"
"Well, I've always known this would come to an end one day or another. That was certain sure. I'll go to Eff. She's always on at me to come. There's nothing to fret about, lovey. You and me ... we'll always be friends. You'll know where I'll be and I'll know where you'll be. Don't be so downhearted. School will suit you, and then when you have your holidays you can come and stay with me and Eff. Eff would be so proud. So ... look on the bright side, there's a love. Life goes on, you know. It never stands still and you can't be Polly's baby forever."
It was getting better already.
Miss York took the news philosophically. She had been expecting it, she said. The rector had always told her that one day I should have to go away to school. She would find another post and the rector had said she must stay at the rectory until she did. Lady Harriet had promised to help her find another situation, so she was as good as fixed up.
It was about a week after Lavinia's exposure that I saw her.
She was smoulderingly resentful. She looked more like a tigress than a spoiled kitten. Her eyes were slightly red, so I knew she had been crying.
"What a fuss!" she said. "It was that awful girl Holly."
"Holly wasn't any different from you. Jos had made fools of you both."
"Don't you dare call me a fool, Drusilla Delany."
"I shall call you what I like. And you are a fool to do what you did, with a groom at that."
"You don't understand."
"Well, everybody else does, and it is why you are being sent away."
"You are being sent as well."
"That is only because you are going. I have to be with you."
She snorted. "I don't want you."
"I daresay my father could send me to another school."
"My mother would not allow that."
"We are not your mother's slaves, you know. We have freedom to do what we want to. If you are going to be objectionable I shall ask my father to send me away without you."
She looked a little alarmed at that.
"They treat me like a child," she said.
"Jos didn't."
She began to laugh. "He is a rogue," she said.
"That's what they all say."
"Oh ... but it was so exciting."
"You should be careful."
"I was ... if that woman hadn't come and found us in the summer house ..."
I turned away. I wondered what she would say if she knew what had led up to her discovery.
"He said I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen."
"I think they all say that. They think it will get them what they want more quickly."
"They don't. And what do you know about it?"
"I've heard ..."
"Shut up," said Lavinia, and seemed near to tears.
We made a sort of truce. We were both going into a strange place and the only familiar things there would be each other. We were both a little pleased that we should not be alone.
We talked a good deal about school.
We spent two years at Meridian House. I fitted in quite well. I was immediately noticed as a bright child, and as such attracted the attention of the teachers. Lavinia was backward for her age, and showed no inclination to change that state. Moreover, she was arrogant and moody, which did not make her popular, and the fact of her exalted parentage—which she was apt to stress at first—was a deterrent rather than an asset. She had always expected those about her to fit in with her ways and it never occurred to her that she must adapt to others.
There was a boys' school close by and occasionally we saw the boys playing games on the green near the school. This caused a certain amount of excitement among a section of the girls, particularly on Sundays when we went to the village church for the morning service and the boys occupied the pews immediately opposite us. Of course, Lavinia was to the fore among these girls who had a marked interest in the boys. Notes were smuggled across the aisle, and Sunday morning church was the high spot of the week for some girls, for a reason which would not have pleased the vicar or our formidable headmistress, Miss Gentian.
It was during our second year at Meridian House that Lavinia experienced her second disaster, and it was inevitable that it was of a nature similar to the first.
She ignored me for a good deal of the time, remembering me only when she needed help with her work. She had her own little community and they were known as "the fast set." They regarded themselves as adult and worldly; they were very daring and knowledgeable of the facts of life. Lavinia was queen of this little band, for though most of them could only theorize on the topic nearest their hearts, Lavinia had had practical experience.
When she was very angry with me she would sometimes refer to me in a tone of complete contempt as "You ... virgin!"
I often thought that if Lavinia had been one of that despised sect I might be at home cosily doing my lessons with Miss York and with dear Polly to run to when an emergency arose.
Polly wrote to me in a rather laborious hand. She had learned to write when Tom had gone away to sea so that she could keep in close touch with him. Her words were often misspelt, but the warmth of her feeling came through to comfort me.
I often thought of her and Eff during that time, and in the summer holidays I did go to see them. I stayed a week and it was wonderful to be with Polly. She and Eff were doing well. Both had an aptitude for business. Polly was soon on friendly terms with the paying guests and Eff supplied the essential dignity which was part of keeping everyone in order.
"We're what Father would have called a good team," Eff told me. She was particularly pleased at that time, for "Downstairs No. 32" (which was what she called the tenants of the lower floor in the most recently acquired house) had brought a nipper with them. They were very content and had the garden for the pram, which was a very comfortable arrangement, and Eff and Polly could pop in at any time and gurgle over the child. Eff always referred to her tenants as "Top Floor 30," "First Floor 32" and so on.
They were wonderful days while Polly listened to my news about school and I learned the backgrounds and idiosyncrasies of Top Floor to Basement Room.
For instance, Top Floor left the tap running and First Floor wouldn't do her part of the stairs properly; even Downstairs No. 32 hadn't really come out of the top drawer, but of course they were forgiven a great deal because they had brought the nipper.
"He's a regular little fellow, he is. You should see the smile I get from him when I go out there." So I gathered that, as previously in the case of the Branleys, the nipper made up for his parents' shortcomings.
Going "up West" with Polly, looking at the big shops, walking through the market on a Saturday night when the flares were lighted and the faces of the costers gleamed scarlet in their light, looking at the rosy apples piled onto the stalls, listening to the cries of "fresh herring, cockles and mussels," past the old quack who swore his remedies would cure falling hair, rheumatic pains and all the ailments that the flesh was heir to ... it was the greatest excitement and I loved it.
Polly made me feel that I was the most important person in the world to her and it was comforting, even when we parted, that I felt I had not lost her forever.
She loved me to talk about my life. I told her about Miss Gentian, the absolute ruler of us all. "A real tartar that one," commented Polly, chuckling, and when I imitated Mademoiselle the French mistress, she rolled about with glee and murmured, "Them foreigners. They're real cautions. I reckon you have a real lark with her." It all seemed incredibly amusing— much more funny than it was in reality.