“Well, Eliza”—there was a force, a decision in the words which made an end of criticism—“it’s just a matter for the Duke. The place is not of my seeking. I was asked to take it—what else could I do?”
“Don’t think I blame you. If it’s the wish of his Grace there is no more to be said. Still, there’s no denying you’ve a big responsibility.”
At these words a shadow came into the resolute eyes.
Said the elder sister reassuringly, “You’ll be equal to the position, never fear. That head of yours is a good one, Hattie. Even Aunt Annie admits that. By the way, have you seen her lately?”
“Seen—Aunt Annie?” said Harriet defensively. The sudden mention of that name produced an immediate change of tone in her distinguished niece.
“She’s been asking about you. She wants very much to see you.”
The shadow deepened in Harriet’s eyes. But an instant later she had skillfully covered an air of growing constraint by a conventional question.
“How’s Joe, Eliza?”
“Pretty much as usual. He’ll be off duty soon.”
Joe Kelly was Eliza’s husband, and a member of the Metropolitan police force. In the eyes of her family, Eliza Sanderson had married beneath her. But Joe, if a rough diamond, was a good fellow, and Eliza could afford not to be over-sensitive on the score of public opinion. Joe had no superficial graces, it was as much as he could do to write a line in his notebook, high rank in his calling was not prophesied by his best friends, but his wife knew she was well off. They had been married eight years, and if only Providence had blessed a harmonious union in a becoming manner, Eliza Kelly would not have found it in her heart to envy the greatest lady in the land. But Providence had not done so, the more was the pity.