Blanche’s hope or expectation of meeting Miss Milward at Alderwood was not fulfilled. She had not, however, been there many minutes before she caught sight of Mrs Harrowby, the wife of the Pinnerton vicar, among the guests, and of her she made inquiry as to Rosy’s absence.
She was away, paying visits, for a few weeks, Mrs Harrowby replied; and something in her manner made Blanche feel that it was better to hazard no further inquiry, as she had been half-intending to do, about Lady Hebe herself. For some slight allusion to the East Moddersham family only drew forth the remark that the Marths were expected back some time in October.
“Either,” thought Blanche, “she doesn’t know how bad it is, or she has been asked not to speak of it.”
“The guild girls are getting on wonderfully well,” volunteered the vicars wife, “thanks to Adela Bracy and her cousin, though, in the first place, thanks to you. They miss you very much—indeed, we all do, at Pinnerton. Adela says you have been most kind in allowing her to apply to you about some little difficulties that occurred;” as was the case.
“I was so sorry to have to give it up,” said Blanche simply. “I only wish I could help Miss Bracy more.”
Just then Lady Harriot appeared with some of the numerous members of the Enneslie family in tow, to whom Miss Derwent was introduced with great propriety. Some irrepressible allusions to the bonnet followed on the good hostess’s part, which Blanche minded very much less than the Misses Enneslie minded them for her. They were nice girls, ready to be almost enthusiastic in their admiration of Blanche and of her sister, whom the youngest of them took under her wing, with the evident intention of making her enjoy herself. And the sight of Stasy’s brightening face was enough to make her sister’s spirits rise at once, more especially when she saw how, on her side, her mother was enjoying a tour of the grounds under old Mr Dunstan’s escort.
Other introductions followed, several of them to families whose names were not altogether unfamiliar to the girl, for as they sat working together, Miss Halliday was not above beguiling the time by a little local gossip of a harmless kind. And Lady Harriot’s good offices did not stop with “the county.” Blanche was trotted out, so to say, for the benefit of some of the Alderwood house-party, her hostess challenging their admiration, not only of the chef d’oeuvre reposing on her own head, but of the charming “confections,” which she described as to be seen in the High Street at Blissmore.
“You must really drive in with me one day, before you leave,” she would exclaim to some special crony of her own. “You would think yourself in Paris, you really would.—And yet none of your things have come from there as yet, have they, Miss Derwent?”
“None of those you saw, I think,” Blanche replied, “though I did write for a few models to a shop we used to get our own things from. The hat I have on is copied from one of them.”
“I was just thinking how pretty it was,” said the mother of some daughters, standing beside her. “I should extremely wish to have one like it for each of my girls, if we may call some day soon. That’s to say, if you don’t mind our copying yours, Miss Derwent. It isn’t as if we lived in this neighbourhood; we’re only here for a few days.”