Mary got up, and it was to be seen that she was of medium height and very neat figure. There was a sparkle in her eyes, and her voice took on a certain crispness. “Very well, ma’am, if that comforts you. But there’s not a man alive would take my sister for the innocent girl she is who sees her in such company.”
Sophia swept a curtsey. “La, and thank you, my dear! But perhaps I am not so innocent as you think. I know very well what I am about, let me tell you.”
Mary looked at her for a moment. “Don’t go, Sophy!”
Sophia tittered. “Lord, how serious you are! Have you any more advice, I wonder?”
Mary’s hand dropped to her side again. “Certainly, child,” she said. “Marry that nice boy who worships you.”
Mrs. Challoner gave a small shriek of dismay. “Good God, you must be mad! Marry Dick Burnley? And she with her chances! I’ve a mind to box your ears, you stupid, provoking girl.”
“Well, ma’am, and what are those fine chances? If you push her much further down the road she is travelling now, you’ll have her Vidal’s light o’ love. A rare end, that, to your ambition.”
“Oh, you wicked creature!” gasped Sophia. “As if I would!”
“Why, child, what hope would you have once Vidal got you in his clutches?” Mary said gently. “Oh, I allow he’s hot for you! Who would not be? But it’s not marriage he means by you, and it will be something quite otherwise if he sees you in such loose company as you keep.” She stayed for a moment, awaiting any answer they might choose to give, but Mrs. Challoner for once had nothing to say, while Sophia sought refuge in a few sparkling easy tears. Having nothing further to say, Mary gathered up her embroidery and went out.
She might as well have held her peace. Uncle Henry having been coaxed into providing the necessary guineas to buy his pretty niece a new gown, Sophia went off to her party in high spirits, entirely, and quite rightly, satisfied with her appearance in pink tiffany, trimmed with rich blonde in scallops. Cousin Joshua, getting wind of it, came to condemn such behaviour, but got little satisfaction from Mary. She heard him out in a silence that seemed more abstracted than attentive and this so piqued him that he was unwise enough to ask her whether she were listening.