Chapter Two
Share and Share Alike

The next morning Marcia commenced her duties. She had said to herself the night before that the prison doors were closing on her. They were firmly closed the next morning. She saw her stepmother for a few minutes on the night of her arrival. She was a tall, very lanky, tired-looking woman, who was the victim of nerves; her irritability was well-known and dreaded. Marcia had lived with it for some years of her life; the younger girls had been brought up with it, and now, when they were pretty and young, and “coming out,” as Molly expressed it, they were tired of it. The invalid was not dangerously ill. If she would only exert herself she might even get quite well; but Mrs Aldworth had not the least intention of exerting herself. She liked to make the worst of her ailments. As a matter of fact she lived on them; she pondered them over in the dead of night, and in the morning she told whoever her faithful companion might happen to be, what had occurred. She spoke of fresh symptoms during the day, and often sobbed and bemoaned herself, and she rated her companion and made her life a terrible burden. Marcia knew all about it. She thought of it as she lay in bed that first night, and firmly determined to make a strong line.

“I have given up Frankfort,” she thought, “and the pleasures of my school life, and the chance of earning money, and some distinction – for they own that I am the best English mistress they have ever had; I have given up the friendship of those dear girls, and the opera, and the music, and all that I most delight in; but I will not – I vow it – give up all my liberty. It is right, of course, that I, who am not so young as my sisters, should have some of the burden; but they must share it.”

She went downstairs, therefore, to breakfast, resolved to speak her mind. The girls were there, looking very pretty and merry. Nesta said eagerly:

“Molly, you will be able to go to the Chattertons to-day.”

“I mean to,” said Molly. “Ethel, you mustn’t be jealous, but I am coming with you.”

“And she’s got a charming new hat,” said Nesta.

“I know,” said Ethel. “She trimmed it yesterday with some of the ribbon left over from my new ball dress.”

“She’ll wear it,” said Nesta, “and she’ll look as pretty as you, Ethel.”

Ethel shook herself somewhat disdainfully.

“And I’m going to play tennis with Matilda Fortescue,” continued Nesta. “Oh, hurrah! hurrah! Isn’t it nice to have a day of freedom?”

“What do you mean, girls?” said Marcia at that moment.

Her voice had a new quality in it; the girls were arrested in their idle talk.

“What do we mean?” said Nesta, who was far and away the most pert of the sisters. “Why, this is what we mean: Dear old Marcia, the old darling, has come back, and we’re free.”

“I wish to tell you,” said Marcia, “that this is a mistake.”

“What do you mean?” said Molly. “Do you mean to insinuate that you are not our sister, our dear old sister?”

“I mean to assure you,” said Marcia, “that I am your sister, and I have come back to share your work and to help you, but not to take your duties from you.”

“Our duties!” cried Molly, with a laugh. “Why, of course we have heaps of duties – more than we can attend to. We make our own clothes, don’t we, Nesta?”

“And beautifully we do it,” said Nesta. “And don’t we trim our own hats?”

“Yes, I’m not talking about those things. Those are pleasures.”

“Pleasures? But we must be clothed?”

“Yes, dears; but you will understand me when I speak quite plainly. Part of your duty is to try to make your poor mother’s life as happy as you can.”

“But you will do that, darling,” said Nesta, coming close up to her sister and putting her arms round her neck.

Nesta had a very pretty and confiding way, and at another time Marcia would have done what the little girl expected, clasped her to her heart and said that she would do all, and leave her dear little young sister to her gay pleasures. But Marcia on this occasion said nothing of the sort.

“I wish to be absolutely candid,” she said. “I will look after mother every second morning, and every second afternoon. There are four of us altogether, and I will have every day either my morning or my afternoon to myself. I will take her one day from after breakfast until after early dinner, and afterwards on the day that I do that, I shall be quite at liberty to pursue my own way until the following morning. On alternate days, I will go to her after early dinner, and stay with her until she is settled for the night. More I will not do; for I will go out – I will have time to write letters, and to study, and to pursue some of those things which mean the whole of life to me. If you don’t approve of this arrangement, girls, I will go back to Frankfort.”

Marcia’s determined speech, the firm stand she took, the resolute look on her face, absolutely frightened the girls.

“You will go back to Frankfort?” said Nesta, tears trembling in her eyes.

Just at that instant Mr Aldworth and Horace came into the room.

“My dear girls, how nice to see you all four together,” said the father.

“Marcia, I trust you are rested,” said Horace.

“Oh, Horace,” said Nesta, “she has been saying such cruel things.”

“Not at all,” said Marcia. “I am very glad you have come in, father, and I am glad you have come in, Horace. You must listen to me, all of you. I am twenty, and I am my own mistress. My stepmother does not stand in quite the same relation to me as my own mother would have done. She is not as near to me as she is to Ethel, and Molly, and Nesta; but I love her, and am willing, abundantly willing, to take more than my share of nursing her.”

“That’s right, Marcia,” said her father.

“Listen, father. I haven’t said all I mean to say. I will not give the girls absolute liberty at the expense of deserting their mother. I refuse to do so; I have told them that I will look after my stepmother for half of every day, sometimes in the morning, and sometimes in the afternoon; but I will not do more, so Molly or Ethel or Nesta, who is no baby, must share the looking after her with me. You can take this proposal of mine, girls, or leave it. If you take it, well and good; if you leave it I return to Frankfort to-morrow.”

Had a bombshell burst in the midst of that eager, animated group, it could not have caused greater consternation. Marcia, the eldest sister, who had always been somewhat downtrodden, who had always worked very, very hard, who always spared others and toiled herself, had suddenly turned round and dared them to take all her liberty from her.

But even as she spoke her heart sank. It was one thing to resolve and to tell her family so; but quite another thing to get that family to carry out her wishes. Nesta flung herself into her father’s arms and sobbed. Molly and Ethel frowned, and tears rolled down Ethel’s cheeks. But Horace went up to Marcia, and put his hand on her shoulder.

“I do think you are right,” he said. “It is fair enough. The only thing is that you must train them a bit, Marcia, just a bit, for they have not your orderly or sweet and gracious ways.”

“Then you take her part, do you?” cried the younger sisters in tones of different degrees of emotion.

“Yes, I do, and, father, you ought to.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Marcia, who somehow seemed not even to feel Horace’s approval of much moment just then. “I do what I said; I stay here for a month if you accede to my proposal. At the end of a month, if you have broken my wishes, and not taken your proper share of the nursing of your mother, I go back to Frankfort. Mrs Silchester has promised to keep my situation open for me for that time. Now I think you understand.”

Marcia went out of the room: she had obtained at least a moral victory, but how battered, how tired, how worn out she felt.

Chapter Three
Taking Mother

“Now, my dear,” said Mrs Aldworth, when Marcia entered her room, “I really expect to have some comfort. You have such a nice understanding way, Marcia. Oh, my dear, don’t let so much light into the room. How stupid. Do you see how that ray of sunlight will creep up my bed in a few moments and fall on my face. I assure you, Marcia, my nerves are so sensitive that if the sun were even to touch my cheek for an instant, I should have a sort of sunstroke. I endured agonies from Nesta’s carelessness in that way a few days ago.”

“Well, it will be all right now, mother,” said Marcia in a cheerful tone.

She was brave enough; she would take up her burden, what burden she thought it right to carry, with all the strength of her sweet, gracious womanhood.

Mrs Aldworth required a great deal of looking after, and Marcia spent a very busy morning. First of all there was the untidy room to put straight; then there was the invalid to wash and comfort and coddle. Presently she induced Mrs Aldworth to rise from her bed and lie on the sofa.

“It is a great exertion, and I shall suffer terribly afterwards,” said the good woman. “But you always were masterful, Marcia.”

“Well, you see,” said Marcia gently, “if I nurse you at all, I must do it according to my own lights. You are not feverish. The day is lovely, and there is no earthly reason why you should stay in bed.”

“But the exertion, with my weak heart.”

“Oh, mother, let me feel your pulse. Your heart is beating quite steadily.”

“Marcia, I do hope you are not learning to be unfeeling.”

“No,” replied the girl, “I am learning to be sensible.”

“You look so nice. Do sit opposite to me where I can watch your face, and tell me about your school, exactly what you did, what the girls were like; what the head mistress was like, and what the town of Frankfort is like.”

(Four pages missing here.)

“I am sorry, dear.”

“How could we go? Whoever is with mother this afternoon will be too fagged to go. We simply couldn’t go. And to think that this is to go on for ever. It’s more than we can stand.”

“I am waiting to know, not what you can stand, or what you cannot, but which of you will look after mother this afternoon? You won’t have a very hard time; her room is in perfect order, and her meals for the entire day are arranged. You have but to sit with her and chat, and amuse her.”

“We’re none of us fit to go near her, you know that perfectly well,” said Molly.

“Very well,” replied Marcia in a resolute tone. “You all know my firm resolve. You have got to face this thing, girls, and the more cheerfully you do it the better.”

In the end it was Molly who was induced to undertake the unwelcome task. She shrugged her shoulders and prepared to leave the room, her head drooping.

“Come, Molly,” said Marcia, following her. “You mustn’t go to mother in that spirit.”

She took Molly’s hand when they got into the hall.

“Can you not remember, dear, that she is your mother?”

“Oh, don’t I remember it. Isn’t it dinned into me morning, noon, and night? I often wish – ”

“Don’t say the dreadful words, Molly, even if you have the thought. Don’t utter the words, for she is your mother. She tended you when you could not help yourself. She brought you into the world in pain and sorrow. She is your mother. No one else could ever take her place.”

“If you would only take her to-day, Marcia, we would try to behave to-morrow. If you would only take her this one day; it is such a blow to us all, you know,” said Molly.

Marcia almost longed to yield; but no, it would not do. If the girls saw any trace of weakness about her now, she would never be able to uphold her position in the future.

“I tell you what I will do,” she said, “I will go with you into mother’s room, and see you comfortably settled, and perhaps – I am not promising – but perhaps I’ll have tea with you in mother’s room presently; but you must do the work, Molly; until mother is in bed to-night she is in your charge. Now, come along.”

Marcia took her sister to her own room.

“Let me brush your hair,” she said.

“But you’ll disarrange it.”

“Now, Molly, did not I always improve your style of hair dressing? Your hair looks a show now, and I could make it look quite pretty.”

In another moment Molly found herself under Marcia’s controlling fingers. Her soft, abundant hair was arranged in a new style which suited her, so that she was quite delighted, and began to laugh and show her pretty white teeth.

“Here is some blue ribbon which I have brought you as a little present,” said Marcia. – “You might tie it in a knot round the neck of your white blouse. There, you look quite sweet; now put some smiles on your face and come along, dear, for mother must be tired of waiting.”

Mrs Aldworth was amazed when she saw the two girls enter the room hand in hand.

“Oh, Molly,” she said. “Good-morning, dear, you haven’t been to see your old mother yet to-day, but I’ll excuse you, my love. How very nice you look, quite pretty. I must say, Marcia dear, that my children are the beauties of the family.”

Marcia smiled. She went straight up to the open window. Molly fidgeted about near her mother.

“Sit down, Molly, won’t you?” said Marcia.

“But why should she?” said Mrs Aldworth. “The poor child is longing to go out for a bit of fun, and I’m sure I don’t wonder. Run along, Molly, my love. Marcia and I are going to have such a busy afternoon.”

“No,” said Marcia suddenly. She turned round and faced Mrs Aldworth. “I must tell you,” she continued, “I am really sorry for you and the girls, but they must take their share in looking after you. I will come to you at this time to-morrow, and spend the rest of the day with you. Molly, you can explain the rest of the situation. Do your duty, love, and, dear mother, believe that I love you. But there are four of us in the house and it must be our pleasure, and our duty, and it ought to be our high privilege, to devote part of our time to nursing you.”