She had not known how true had been the basis of Valentine Ambleton’s objection to her marriage till after she had become Mark Wentworth’s wife. She had heard, of course, that Mark was supposed to be wild, and that he drank more champagne than was good for him, but she had not realized the disagreeables attached to his name, and the unenviable reputation he had made for himself.
Her sojourn at Sunstead had quickly brought all this to her knowledge, however, and with it had come the knowledge also of the high place accorded to Valentine Ambleton and his sister by the very people who openly despised and disliked her husband.
It was all very well to carry things through with a high hand, to surround herself with the panoply of wealth, and endeavor to startle the world about her with complete subjugation to her undoubted beauty. Mistress, as she was, of the finest property anywhere near Dynechester, Christina found herself absolutely neglected by the few good families scattered about her neighborhood. No one called upon her, at least, no one of any social importance, and the hot anger had surged many a time in her heart when she had driven past the Dower House, and had seen the carriages of these people, who had ignored her, standing outside Grace Ambleton’s door.
“They are a set of Low Church prigs and frumps!” she said to herself, by way of consolation; but this was not very satisfactory, and things dragged on pretty heavily for her, until time and chance brought Sacha Ambleton to her side.
But her success with Sacha counted for very little. Sacha, after all, was a very ordinary young man, and his admiration a matter of course.
She had used him to aid her in the task of annoying Grace, because this was the nearest way to touch Valentine, and because she had a restless longing to bring herself in some form or other constantly before the man.
But Christina wanted more than Sacha.
She told herself she would taste real happiness the day that Valentine Ambleton should let her see that he recognized her power, and was ready to do her homage. And she was by no means persuaded that this would never come, not even when she sat biting her lip with vexation over his curt refusal to obey her first summons. A woman of Christina’s caliber has always a store of little tricks in reserve, on which she can fall back in emergency, and she consoled herself now by this remembrance.
What would have delighted her more than all would have been the sight of Valentine coming daily to her house as his brother came, not only because his coming would give her personal satisfaction, but because she was only too sure it would upset Grace altogether, and Christina did not like Grace.
It was Sacha who gave her all the information about Harold’s death and funeral.