Lady Winwood clutched the vinaigrette. “Charlotte, my nerves!” she said in a fading voice.
“But, Mama, it is!” insisted Charlotte.
Elizabeth had a premonition. “Oh, what can she have been doing?” she said, sinking into a chair, and growing quite pale.
“I hope nothing—nothing dreadful!”
Impetuous footsteps were heard on the stairs; the door was opened ungently, and Horatia stood before them, flushed and bright-eyed, and swinging her hat by its ribbon.
Lady Winwood’s hands fumbled with her Medici scarf. “Dearest, the draught!” she moaned. “My poor head!”
“Pray, Horry, shut the door!” said Charlotte. “How can you bounce so when you know how shattered Mama’s nerves are?”
“Oh, I am sorry!” Horatia said, and carefully shut the door. “I forgot. L-Lizzie, everything is settled, and you shall m-marry Edward!”
Lady Winwood was moved to sit up. “Good God, the child’s raving! Horatia, what— what have you been doing?”
Horatia tossed the cloak aside, and plumped down on the stool beside her mother’s sopha. “I’ve b-been to see Lord Rule!” she announced.