“Won’t be alone. She’ll have her maid with her — dragon of a woman, she is; journeyed all over Europe with us — and John Potton as well.” He caught sight of his nephew’s raised brows, and felt himself impelled to add: “Groom, courier, general factotum! Looked after Sophy since she was a baby.” He drew out his watch, and consulted it. “Well, now that we’ve settled everything, I must be off, Lizzie. I shall rely upon you to take care of Sophy, and look about you for a match. It’s important, because — but I’ve no time to explain that now! She’ll tell you all about it, I expect.”
“But, Horace, we have not settled everything!” protested his sister. “And Ombersley will be disappointed not to see you! hoped you would dine with us!”
“No, I can’t do that,” he replied. “I’m dining at Carlton House. You may give my respects to Ombersley; daresay I shall see him again one of these days!”
He then kissed her in a perfunctory style, bestowed another of his hearty pats upon her shoulder, and took himself off, followed by his nephew. “Just as if I had nothing more to wish for!” Lady Ombersley said indignantly, when Charles came back into the room. “And I have not the least notion when that child is to come to me!”
“It doesn’t signify,” said Charles, with an indifference she found exasperating. “You will give orders for a room to be prepared for her, I suppose, and she may come when she pleases. It’s to be hoped Cecilia likes her, since I imagine she will be obliged to see the most of her.”
“Poor little thing!” sighed Lady Ombersley. “I declare I quite long to mother her, Charles! What a strange, lonely life she must lead!”
“Strange certainly; hardly lonely, if she has been acting hostess for my uncle. I must suppose that she has had some elder lady to live with her — a governess, or some such thing.”
“Indeed, one would think it must have been so, but your uncle distinctly told me that the governess died when they were in Vienna! I do not like to say such a thing of my only brother, but really it seems as though Horace is quite unfit to have the care of a daughter!”
“Extremely unfit,” he said dryly. “I trust you will not have cause to regret your kindness, Mama.”
“Oh, no, I am sure I shall not!” she said. “Your uncle spoke of her in such a way that gave me the greatest desire to welcome her! Poor child, I fear she has not been used to have her wishes or her comfort much considered! I could almost have been angry with Horace when he would keep on telling me that she is a good little thing, and had never been a worry to him! I daresay he has never allowed anyone to be a worry to him, for a more selfish man I believe you could hardly meet! Sophia must have her poor mother’s sweet disposition. I have no doubt of her being a charming companion for Cecilia.”