Chapter 3
It was twelve-year-old Betsy’s thirteenth birthday today. As the youngest daughter, she and been fussed over by her mother and her two elder sisters. It was thought she would be the last child, so she was given special attention until George surprisingly came along, and as the male heir, reigned supreme.
But the sisters paid little attention to George. The three were a tight-knit unit unto themselves. They took their lessons from Nanny Wilkes together, fussed over each other’s hair and dresses, and sequestered themselves in their wing of the house away from the adults.
Betsy was the only sister to give any attention to Lucy, the newest addition to the family. Ann and Charlotte resented her, but Betsy, who liked to read, took an interest in her when Lucy asked Betsy to help her with reading.
Soon Lucy and Betsy were reading the same books and discussing whatever they were reading.
Betsy had fair hair like her mother and brother. She was a little plump, but it was considered baby fat and would soon disappear when she reached puberty. Sweet-tempered and studious, she was turning from the company of her sisters and seeking out Lucy more and more, and even from her brother who was developing his intense interest in drawing, painting, and the study of art.
There was to be a birthday party at tea time in the library. Ann and Charlotte had already dressed themselves in their party dresses and had turned their attention to Betsy.
It seemed that Betsy had grown an inch to two since she had last worn her party dress and it was tight across the shoulders, and the hem was above her ankles.
“Oh, no. This just will not do,” Charlotte said, standing back and examining the hapless Betsy. She twiddled her fingers as she thought. “I know, I have just the thing in my armoire. It is a dress I have outgrown, and it would be just perfect for you.”
She dashed to her armoire and pawed through her selection of dresses, finally pulling one out.
“What do you think about this?” she asked Betsy as she held it up before her.
It was a yellow dress with lace, ribbons, and frills—not at all to Betsy’s simple taste.
Betsy made a face. “Oh, Charlotte… it is dreadful. It looks like a mangled daisy.
Charlotte pouted and put the dress away.
Charlotte at thirteen, generally seemed distracted, dreamy, and in a world of her own. With auburn hair, and soft, gentle features she was considered the loveliest of the three, although her mother would never tell her that in front of the others.
“Then what are we to do?” Ann asked, folding her arms across her chest and studying her newly sprouted younger sister.
“Do you have anything amongst your dresses?” Charlotte asked.
“Everything I have would be too big for her,” Ann said, but then had a thought. “Wait. There might be one dress that will do.”
She scrummaged around at the bottom of her dresser and pulled out a dress that had been folded up. She shook it out and held it up for Betsy’s examination.
“There, what do you think about this?” she asked beaming.
Betsy leaned her head to the side as she studied it. “It looks like a flour sack,” she said with disdain.
Charlotte threw her hands up in the air. “Then what is to be done?”
There was a knock at the door, and Lucy appeared with a dress draped across her outstretched arms.
“What are you doing in this part of the house?” Charlotte demanded. “Servants should not appear unless called.”
“I was sent, Miss Charlotte,” Lucy said.
“Hello, Lucy,” Betsy said, happy to see her friend.
“George asked me to bring this to you,” Lucy said holding up the dress and offering it to Betsy. “He said it is his birthday present to you.”
“Why did he not bring it himself?” Ann asked. “Is he using you as his personal servant now?” Ann asked with a mean chuckle.
“His Grace has taken George with him into town on some business, and George wanted you to have this in plenty of time for the party.”
Betsy smiled. “It is beautiful, Lucy. I love it! George is such a wonderful brother.”
