‘My claims?’ said Lady William; ‘there has never been any question made of my claims.’
‘Probably not, so long as you live; but look at that child. You must make everything certain for her; I must press it upon you with all my might, Emily. Life is uncertain, and you have nothing of your own.’
‘Not much, that is true.’
‘And what would she have to depend upon if you died? You don’t even know what questions might arise. They might ask her what her proofs were, what evidence she had.’
‘Of what?’ said Lady William, wondering. ‘What evidence does Mab require to prove that she is my daughter? But all the parish could prove that, with the Rector at their head.’
‘Oh, so far as that goes; but it does not suffice to be proved to be her mother’s daughter when the money is on the father’s side.’
‘What do you mean, Mrs. Swinford?’ Lady William had grown red and a little angry. She fixed her eyes upon her adviser, ‘There is something in what you say that I do not understand.’
‘Nevertheless it is very true,’ said Mrs. Swinford; ‘the money is, you know, on the father’s side, and the father’s family have a right to know everything about it. It should be put quite out of their power to say afterwards that they never had any proof.’
‘Of what? You mean something that has not been suggested to me before. I have been told I ought to make overtures; but what is this? Please to tell me,’ she said, almost sharply, ‘what you mean.’
‘You must surely have thought of it yourself. Here you are, a widow, not very young, with an only child. They call you Lady William, and you enjoy the rank. Oh, you need not wave your hand as if to say no; I know you better than you know yourself; you enjoy your rank.’