“Where is the girl’s mother?”
“I do not know. Lady Huntington simply said that they arrived from New York ten days ago, bringing a letter to Sir Humphrey from a friend who requested his hospitality for them.”
“If that is the case, they must have been moving in good society,” remarked Lady Royalston, reflectively.
“Yes; and they must have means. Did you notice the girl’s toilet? It was simply exquisite.”
“Yes; the finest of everything, and in the best of taste. I cannot understand it, for you told me that Sir William brought all his wife’s fortune back to England with him.”
“She told me so herself! but she must have found another somewhere, or they could not come here in this style.”
“Perhaps she has married again,” suggested Lady Royalston.
“No, indeed. Don’t you understand? She still retains her maiden name, with simply the ‘Mrs.’ added. I must find out more about them. I will pump Lady Huntington again before we leave,” Mrs. Farnum concluded, rather inelegantly.
She was as good as her word, but all that she could learn was that Mrs. Alexander had come abroad for her health—that she and her daughter were traveling alone. Lady Huntington believed she was a widow, but judged she must have lost her husband many years ago, since she never mentioned him, and wore no weeds. She said she was not able to go much into society, being still something of an invalid, although much better than before her voyage.
This was not very satisfactory to Mrs. Farnum, and she felt very uneasy.