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Updated: June 21, 2025
If Lady Caergwent were not able to return on Tuesday, she would send down her own maid to bring her home on Wednesday. The letter was civility itself; but it was plain that Lady Barbara thought Kate's illness no better than the "previous engagement," in the note that never was written. What was the family affliction?
But Aunt Jane was kissing and fondling all the time; and the end of this sad naughty evening was, that Kate went to sleep with more softness, love, and repentance in her heart, than there had been since her coming to Bruton Street. Lady Caergwent was thoroughly ashamed and bumbled by that unhappy evening.
Only a child, indeed! What would they think if they knew? And the little goose held her pocket- handkerchief in her hand, feeling as if it would be like a story if they happened to wonder at the coronet embroidered in the corner; and when she took out a story-book, she would have liked that the fly- leaf should just carelessly reveal the Caergwent written upon it.
"Well," he said, "I am glad there is no worse harm done. You had better defer your statueship till we can find you a sounder pedestal, Lady Caergwent." "Oh! call me Kate," whispered she in his ear, turning redder than the fright had made her.
However, take care you do not get too familiar. Remember, these Wardours are no relations, and I will not have you letting them call you by your Christian name." Kate's bright looks sank. That old married-woman sound, Lady Caergwent, seemed as if it would be a bar between her and the free childish fun she hoped for.
So there was a little said about taking the liberty of calling, for her brother-in-law was so anxious to hear of Lady Caergwent: and Lady Barbara said her niece was very well and healthy, and had only needed change of air. And then came something in return about Mrs.
"Your two aunts in London, Lady Barbara and Lady Jane Umfraville, are kind enough to offer to take charge of you. Here is a letter that they sent inclosed for you." "The Countess of Caergwent," was written on the envelope; and Kate's and Sylvia's heads were together in a moment to see how it looked, before opening the letter, and reading: "'My dear Niece, dear me, how funny to say niece!
For it must be confessed, that Lady Caergwent, though neatly and prettily made, with delicate little feet and hands, and a strong upright back, was a remarkably awkward child; and the more she was lectured, the more ungraceful she made herself partly from thinking about it, and from fright making her abrupt, partly from being provoked.
Bartley again, by Lady Jane's orders, pounced upon Lady Caergwent, and made her repent of all wishes for assistance by beginning upon her hair, and in spite of all wriggles and remonstrances, dressing her in the peculiarly slow and precise manner by which a maid can punish a troublesome child; until finally Kate far too much irritated for a word of thanks, tore herself out of her hands, caught up her gloves, and flew down-stairs as if her life depended on her speed.
We have a great deal to be thankful for, and we shall do very well." It made that loving tender-hearted Aunt Jane break quite down, cling to him and sob, "O Giles those dear noble boys how little we thought and dear Caergwent too and you away from home!"
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