He looked at her very kindly. “Do you want to escape?”
“Yes—no! I could not leave my grandfather. He is almost helpless, and very old.”
“Have you lived here all your life?”
“Very nearly. My father died when I was a child, and we came to live with Grandpapa then. When I was sixteen, my mother died. Then Jermyn went to the wars, and was killed.” She paused, and added, in a lighter tone: “But that is all a long time ago now. Don’t imagine that poor Grandpapa has kept me here against my will! Far from it! Nothing would do for him but to launch me into society—though I warned him what would come of it!”
“What did come of it?” John enquired.
She made her mouth prim, but her eyes were laughing. “I did not take!” she said solemnly. “Now, don’t, I beg of you, play the innocent and ask me how that can have come about! You must see precisely how it came about! I am by far too large. Grandpapa compelled my Aunt Sophia to house me for a whole season, and even to present me at a Drawing-room. When she saw me in a hoop, we were obliged to revive her with hartshorn and burnt feathers. I cannot love her, but indeed I pitied her! She can never have enjoyed a season less. It was so mortifying for her! I had no notion how to behave, and when she took me to Almack’s not all her endeavours could obtain partners for me. I don’t know which of us was the more thankful when my visit ended.”
“I expect I must have been in Spain,” he said thoughtfully. “I never went to Almack’s till after I had sold out, and my sister dragged me there. To own the truth, I found it devilish dull, and there wasn’t a woman there, beside my sister, whose head reached my shoulder. It made me feel dashed conspicuous. If you had been there, and we had stood up together, it would have been a different matter.”
“Alas, I’m more at home in the saddle than the ballroom!”
“Are you? So am I! But my sister can keep it up all night.”
“Is your sister married?”