Sophia’s fingers curled like a kitten’s claws. “It’s me Vidal wants, not Mary!”
“Lord, what has that to say to anything?” said Mrs. Challoner. “It’s Mary he has run off with. Now don’t pout at me, miss! You will do very well, I don’t doubt. There’s O’Halloran, mad for you, or Fraser.”
Sophia gave a little scream. “O’Halloran! Fraser! I won’t marry a plain mister! I won’t! I’d sooner drown myself!”
“Oh well, I’m not saying you might not do better for yourself,” replied Mrs. Challoner. “And if only I can get Mary safe wedded to Vidal there’s no saying who she may not find you. For she has a good heart; I always said Mary had a good heart; and she’ll not forget her mamma and sister, however grand she’s to become.”
The prospect of having a husband found for her by Mary proved too much for Sophia’s self-control. She fell into renewed hysterics, but was startled into silence by a smart box on the ear from a mother who had suddenly discovered that her elder daughter was of more account than her pampered self.
She was bundled off to bed; Mrs. Challoner had no time to waste on tantrums. Her chief fear at that moment was that Mary might return uncompromised, and her night’s repose was quite spoiled by her dread of hearing a knock on the front door. When morning came bringing no news of Mary, her maternal anxieties were allayed, and telling Sophia sharply to stop crying, she set about making herself smart for a visit to his grace of Avon. She chose a gown of stiff damson-hued armazine, with one of the new German collars, and a caravan bonnet with a blind of white sarsenet to belet down at will, and thus attired set forth shortly before noon for Avon House. The door was opened by a liveried porter, and she inquired haughtily for his grace of Avon.
The porter informed her that his grace was from home, and having formed his own opinion of Mrs. Challoner’s estate, prepared to shut the door.
That redoubtable lady promptly put her foot in the way. “Then be so good as to take me to the Duchess,” she said.
“Her grace is h’also h’out of town,” replied the porter.
Mrs. Challoner’s face fell. “When do you expect her back?” she demanded.