5.0
Comment(s)
86
View
29
Chapters

Six to Sixteen by Juliana Horatia Ewing

Six to Sixteen Chapter 1 MY PRETTY MOTHER-AYAH-COMPANY.

My name is Margaret Vandaleur. My father was a captain in her Majesty's 202nd Regiment of Foot. The regiment was in India for six years, just after I was born; indeed, I was not many months old when I made my first voyage, which I fancy Eleanor is thinking of when she says that I have had some adventures.

Military ladies are said to be unlucky as to the times when they have to change stations; the move often chancing at an inconvenient moment. My mother had to make her first voyage with the cares of a young baby on her hands; nominally, at any rate, but I think the chief care of me fell upon our Ayah. My mother hired her in England. The Ayah wished to return to her country, and was glad to do so as my nurse. I think that at first she only intended to be with us for the voyage, but she stayed on, and became fond of me, and so remained my nurse as long as I was in India.

I have heard that my mother was the prettiest woman on board the vessel she went out in, and the prettiest woman at the station when she got there. Some people have told me that she was the prettiest woman they ever saw. She was just eighteen years old when my father married her, and she was not six-and-twenty when she died.

[I got so far in writing my life, seated at the round, three-legged pinewood table, with Eleanor scribbling away opposite to me. But I could get no further just then. I put my hands before my eyes as if to shade them from the light; but Eleanor is very quick, and she found out that I was crying. She jumped up and threw herself at my feet.

"Margery, dear Margery! what is the matter?"

I could only sob, "My mother, O my mother!" and add, almost bitterly, "It is very well for you to write about your childhood, who have had a mother-and such a mother!-all your life; but for me--"

Eleanor knelt straight up, with her teeth set, and her hands clasped before her.

"I do think," she said slowly, "that I am, without exception, the most selfish, inconsiderate, dense, unfeeling brute that ever lived." She looked so quaintly, vehemently in earnest as she knelt in the firelight, that I laughed in spite of my tears.

"My dear old thing," I said, "it is I who am selfish, not you. But I am going on now, and I promise to disturb you no more." And in this I was resolute, though Eleanor would have burned our papers then and there, if I had not prevented her.

Indeed she knew as well as I did that it was not merely because I was an orphan that I wept, as I thought of my early childhood. We could not speak of it, but she knew enough to guess at what was passing through my mind. I was only six years old when my mother died, but I can remember her. I can remember her brief appearances in the room where I played, in much dirt and contentment, at my Ayah's feet-rustling in silks and satins, glittering with costly ornaments, beautiful and scented, like a fairy dream. I would forego all these visions for one-only one-memory of her praying by my bedside, or teaching me at her knee. But she was so young, and so pretty! And yet, O Mother, Mother! better than all the triumphs of your loveliness in its too short prime would it have been to have left a memory of your beautiful face with some devout or earnest look upon it-"as it had been the face of an angel"-to your only child.

As I sit thinking thus, I find Eleanor's dark eyes gazing at me from her place, to which she has gone back; and she says softly, "Margery, dear Margery, do let us give it up." But I would not give it up now, for anything whatever.]

The first six years of my life were spent chiefly with my Ayah. I loved her very dearly. I kissed and fondled her dark cheeks as gladly as if they had been fair and ruddy, and oftener than I touched my mother's, which were like the petals of a china rose. My most intimate friends were of the Ayah's complexion. We had more than one "bearer" during those years, to whom I was greatly attached. I spoke more Hindostanee than English. The other day I saw a group of Lascar sailors at the Southampton Station; they had just come off a ship, and were talking rapidly and softly together. I have forgotten the language of my early childhood, but its tones had a familiar sound; those dark bright faces were like the faces of old friends, and my heart beat for a minute, as one is moved by some remembrance of an old home.

When my mother went out for her early ride at daybreak, before the heat of the day came on, Ayah would hold me up at the window to see her start. Sometimes my father would have me brought out, and take me before him on his horse for a few minutes. But my nurse never allowed this if a ready excuse could prevent it. Her care of me was maternal in its tenderness, but she did not keep me tidy enough for me to be presentable off-hand to company.

There was always "company" wherever my mother went-gentleman company especially. The gentlemen, in different places, and at different times, were not the same, but they had a common likeness. I used to count them when they rode home with my father and mother, or assembled for any of the many reasons for which "company" hung about our homes. I remember that it was an amusement to me to discover, "there are six to-day," or "five to-day," and to tell my Ayah. I was even more minute. I divided them into three classes: "the little ones, the middle ones, and the old ones." The "little ones" were the very young men-smooth-cheeked ensigns, etc.; the "old ones" were usually colonels, generals, or elderly civilians. From the youngest to the oldest, officers and civilians, they were all very good-natured to me, and I approved of them accordingly.

When callers came, I was often sent into the drawing-room. Great was my dear Ayah's pride when I was dressed in pink silk, my hair being arranged in ringlets round my head, to be shown off to the company. I was proud of myself, and was wont rather to strut than walk into the room upon my best kid shoes. They were pink, to match my frock, and I was not a little vain of them. There were usually some ladies in the room, dressed in rustling finery like my mother, but not like her in the face-never so pretty. There were always plenty of gentlemen of the three degrees, and they used to be very polite to me, and to call me "little Rosebud," and give me sweetmeats. I liked sweetmeats, and I liked flattery, but I had an affection stronger than my fancy for either. I used to look sharply over the assembled men for the face I wanted, and when I had found it I flew to the arms that were stretched out for me. They were my father's.

I remember my mother, but I remember my father better still. I did not see very much of him, but when we were together I think we were both thoroughly happy. I can recall pretty clearly one very happy holiday we spent together. My father got some leave, and took us for a short time to the hills. My clearest memory of his face is as it smiled on me, from under a broad hat, as we made nosegays for Mamma's vases in our beautiful garden, where the fuchsias and geraniums were "hardy," and the sweet-scented verbenas and heliotropes were great bushes, loading the air with perfume.

I have one remembrance of it almost as distinct-the last.

* * *

Continue Reading

Other books by Juliana Horatia Ewing

More

You'll also like

Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine

Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine

Cornelia
5.0

I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting." When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home. Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name. He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal. I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing. As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life.

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

Catherine
5.0

I spent four hours preparing a five-course meal for our fifth anniversary. When Jackson finally walked into the penthouse an hour late, he didn't even look at the table. He just dropped a thick Manila envelope in front of me and told me he was done. He said his stepsister, Davida, was getting worse and needed "stability." I wasn't his wife; I was a placeholder, a temporary fix he used until the woman he actually loved was ready to take my place. Jackson didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to erase me. He called me a "proprietary asset," claiming that every design I had created to save his empire belonged to him. He froze my bank accounts, cut off my phone, and told me I’d be nothing without his name. Davida even called me from her hospital bed to flaunt the family heirloom ring Jackson claimed was lost, mocking me for being "baggage" that was finally being cleared out. I stood in our empty home, realizing I had spent five years being a martyr for a man who saw me as a transaction. I couldn't understand how he could be so blind to the monster he was protecting, or how he could discard me so coldly after I had given him everything. I grabbed my hidden sketchbook, shredded our wedding portrait, and walked out into the rain. I dialed a number I hadn't touched in years—a dangerous man known as The Surgeon who dealt in debts and shadows. I told him I was ready to pay his price. Jackson and Davida wanted to steal my identity, but I was about to show the world the literal scars they had left behind.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
Six to Sixteen Six to Sixteen Juliana Horatia Ewing Literature
“Six to Sixteen by Juliana Horatia Ewing”
1

Chapter 1 MY PRETTY MOTHER-AYAH-COMPANY.

06/12/2017

2

Chapter 2 THE CHOLERA SEASON-MY MOTHER GOES AWAY-MY SIXTH BIRTHDAY.

06/12/2017

3

Chapter 3 THE BULLERS-MATILDA TAKES ME UP-WE FALL OUT-MR. GEORGE.

06/12/2017

4

Chapter 4 SALES-MATTERS OF PRINCIPLE-MRS. MINCHIN QUARRELS WITH THE BRIDE-MRS. MINCHIN QUARRELS WITH EVERYBODY-MRS. MINCHIN IS RECONCILED-THE VOYAGE HOME-A DEATH ON BOARD.

06/12/2017

5

Chapter 5 A HOME STATION-WHAT MRS. BULLER THOUGHT OF IT-WHAT MAJOR BULLER THOUGHT OF IT.

06/12/2017

6

Chapter 6 DRESS AND MANNER-I EXAMINE MYSELF-MY GREAT-GRANDMOTHER.

06/12/2017

7

Chapter 7 MY GREAT-GRANDMOTHER-THE DUCHESS'S CARRIAGE-MRS. O'CONNOR IS CURIOUS.

06/12/2017

8

Chapter 8 A FAMILY HISTORY.

06/12/2017

9

Chapter 9 HOPES AND EXPECTATIONS-DREAMS AND DAY DREAMS-THE VINE-ELSPETH-MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER.

06/12/2017

10

Chapter 10 THOMAS THE CAT-MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER'S SKETCHES-ADOLPHE IS MY FRIEND-MY GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER DISTURBS MY REST-I LEAVE THE VINE.

06/12/2017

11

Chapter 11 MATILDA'S NEWS-OUR GOVERNESS-MAJOR BULLER TURNED TUTOR-ELEANOR ARKWRIGHT.

06/12/2017

12

Chapter 12 POOR MATILDA-THE AWKWARD AGE-MRS. BULLER TAKES COUNSEL WITH HER FRIENDS-THE "MILLINER AND MANTUAMAKER"-MEDICAL ADVICE-THE MAJOR DECIDES.

06/12/2017

13

Chapter 13 AT SCHOOL-THE LILAC-BUSH-BRIDGET'S POSIES-SUMMER-HEALTH.

06/12/2017

14

Chapter 14 MISS MULBERRY-DISCIPLINE AND RECREATION-MADAME-CONVERSATION-ELEANOR'S OPINION OF THE DRAWING-MASTER-MISS ELLEN'S-ELEANOR'S APOLOGY.

06/12/2017

15

Chapter 15 ELEANOR'S THEORIES REDUCED TO PRACTICE-STUDIES-THE ARITHMETIC-MASTER.

06/12/2017

16

Chapter 16 ELEANOR'S REPUTATION-THE MAD GENTLEMAN-FANCIES AND FOLLIES-MATILDA'S HEALTH-THE NEW DOCTOR.

06/12/2017

17

Chapter 17 ELEANOR'S HEALTH-HOLY LIVING-THE PRAYER OF THE SON OF SIRACH.

06/12/2017

18

Chapter 18 ELEANOR AND I ARE LATE FOR BREAKFAST-THE SCHOOL BREAKS UP-MADAME AND BRIDGET.

06/12/2017

19

Chapter 19 NORTHWARDS-THE BLACK COUNTRY-THE STONE COUNTRY.

06/12/2017

20

Chapter 20 THE VICARAGE-KEZIAH-THE DEAR BOYS-THE COOK-A YORKSHIRE TEA-BED-FELLOWS.

06/12/2017

21

Chapter 21 GARDENING-DRINKINGS-THE MOORS-WADING-BATRACHOSPERMA-THE CHURCH-LITTLE MARGARET.

06/12/2017

22

Chapter 22 A NEW HOME-THE ARKWRIGHTS' RETURN-THE BEASTS-GOING TO MEET THE BOYS-JACK'S HATBOX-WE COME HOME A RATTLER.

06/12/2017

23

Chapter 23 I CORRESPOND WITH THE MAJOR-MY COLLECTION-OCCUPATIONS-MADAME AGAIN-FêTE DE VILLAGE-THE BRITISH HOORAY.

06/12/2017

24

Chapter 24 WE AND THE BOYS-WE AND THE BOYS AND OUR FADS-THE LAMP OF ZEAL-CLEMENT ON UNREALITY-JACK'S OINTMENT.

06/12/2017

25

Chapter 25 THE "HOUSEHOLD ALBUM"-SKETCHING UNDER DIFFICULTIES-A NEW SPECIES -JACK'S BARGAIN-THEORIES.

06/12/2017

26

Chapter 26 MANNERS AND CUSTOMS-CLIQUE-THE LESSONS OF EXPERIENCE-OUT VISITING-HOUSE-PRIDE-DRESSMAKING.

06/12/2017

27

Chapter 27 MATILDA-BALL DRESSES AND THE BALL-GORES-MISS LINING-THE 'PARISHIONER'S PENNYWORTH.'

06/12/2017

28

Chapter 28 I GO BACK TO THE VINE-AFTER SUNSET-A TWILIGHT EXISTENCE-SALAD OF MONK'S-HOOD-A ROYAL SUMMONS.

06/12/2017

29

Chapter 29 HOME AGAIN-HOME NEWS-THE VERY END.

06/12/2017