He would say so little, and that little a sneer, or mocking. He acted on such sudden desperate impulses, as in the matter of his marriage. Never had he been frank with her, and she, sensitive to his reserve, had equally never been able to bring herself to probe into his affairs. She knew that he must be entangled in debt. She feared a sudden downfall of his fortunes, but she knew—with certainty—nothing.
She sat down at the spinet and played a little madrigal by Orlando Gibbons that was associated with her earliest childhood. When her fingers fell still her hands dropped into her lap, and she sat motionless, staring across the gorgeous chamber.
The mirror behind her reflected her slender figure in the tight lilac silk, the loops of soft brown hair falling over the muslin fichu and the faint coloured keys of the spinet.
Her reverie was disturbed by the entry of my lady's black page; she thought he came to announce Marius, and her heart fluttered.
But it was a lady who desired to be admitted. She said she came from Lyndwood House, and the page thought her the maid of the younger Countess.
Susannah paled with anger and distaste. What impertinence was this on the part of the odious Honoria Pryse?
"My lady is at Ranelagh," she said. "I suppose this person hath come to see her."
"No, madam; she asked for you."
A swift stab of premonitory disaster prevented Miss Chressham from sending the message that was at first on her lips—a curt refusal to see the Countess Lavinia's maid. Surely something desperate must have occurred before Honoria Pryse would seek her out; but the boy might be mistaken.
"Bring her to me," she commanded briefly.