Lady Aviolet, elderly, squat, and ugly, yet strangely dignified, sat back in an armchair, her dress, in weighty folds, falling about her feet on the parquet floor. Behind her stood Sir Thomas, frowning heavily. His shirt-front bulged a little, and his heavy shoulders were bowed.
Ford stood upon the hearthrug, one arm resting on the marble carving of the mantel. His eyebrows were moving slightly up and down, but otherwise his finely chiselled face, like and yet so unlike his mother’s, was expressionless. One hand held his eyeglasses.
Opposite to Lady Aviolet sat the girl Diana. Her hands were folded in her lap. She looked perplexed, but not at all perturbed. Her lax mouth, with its narrow formation of palate, and two prominent, white front teeth, looked quite ready either to smile, or to droop slightly in dismay.
Rose Aviolet was standing. She looked big and heavy, with her square shoulders almost bare, her large proportions contrasting with Lady Aviolet’s shortness, Ford’s narrowness of shoulder, and Diana Grierson-Amberly’s flat-chested figure and slender neck and arms.
One strand of hair lay loose across her forehead, and she kept on pushing it back into place again angrily. Her whole appearance was untidy, lacking entirely the repose that kept Lady Aviolet unmoved, and the girl Diana trim and well-groomed-looking at the end of the evening. Her condition, that barely verged upon insobriety, was perfectly evident to Lucian and, he felt sure, to Sir Thomas also. Lady Aviolet and Diana, he was equally convinced, had noticed nothing. Whether or not Ford had a suspicion, Lucian could not tell. But at least it seemed certain that they must all realize that Rose Aviolet was on the brink of making the “row” that she had threatened. Her high voice, pitched higher than usual, broke upon the big, echoing room once more.
“I may just as well say this now, mayn’t I? Ces isn’t going to be sent to any school.”
The challenge was flung at her brother-in-law, but it was Lady Aviolet who replied in a quiet, unruffled voice:
“We can talk about it later, my dear. There’s no hurry.”
“Yes, there is.” Rose contradicted the elder lady flatly, making Ford wince at the crudity.
“There’s this amount of hurry, that I’m not going to stand being badgered about it any longer. Cecil’s my child, and I won’t have him sent to school.”