She was remarkable (as Miss Kilcorban informed Amanda) for asking young people to do little matters for her, such as making her millinery, working ruffles, aprons, and handkerchiefs.
The tranquillity she enjoyed for two years after Sir Geoffry’s death was a little interrupted by his nephew’s arrival from America, and commencing a suit directly against her by the advice of his friends and some eminent lawyers, on the supposition that the will by which she inherited had been made when his uncle was in a state of imbecility.
Lady Greystock, however, received but a trifling shock from this; she knew he had no money to carry on such an affair, and that his advocates would lose their zeal in his cause, when convinced of the state of his finances. On being obliged to go to London to attend the suit, it immediately occurred that Amanda would be a most pleasing companion to take along with her, as she would not only enliven the hours she must sometimes pass at home, but do a number of little things in the way of dress, which would save a great deal of expense.
Amanda, on the first proposal of accompanying her, warmly opposed it; she felt unutterable reluctance to leave her father, and assured him she would, by exerting herself, prove that a change of scene was not requisite for restoring her cheerfulness. Fitzalan knew her sincerity in making this promise, but he also knew her inability of performing it; his happiness, he declared, depended on her complying with this request: he even said his own health would probably be established by it, as during her absence he would partake of the amusements of the country, which he had hitherto declined on her account. This assertion prevailed on her to consent, and immediate preparations were made for her journey, as the invitation had not been given till within a few days of her ladyship’s intended departure. As she went by Holyhead, Fitzalan determined on sending Ellen to her parents till Amanda returned from England, which determination pleased Ellen exceedingly, as she longed to see her family, and tell them particulars of Chip. As the hour approached for quitting her father, the regret and reluctance of Amanda increased; nor were his feelings less oppressive, though better concealed: but when the moment of parting came, they could no longer be suppressed; he held her with a trembling grasp to his heart, as if life would forsake it. On her departure, the gloom on his mind seemed like a presentiment of evil; he repented forcing her from him, and scarcely could he refrain from saying they must not part.
Lady Greystock, who in every scene and every situation preserved her composure, hinted to him the injury he was doing his daughter by such emotions; and mentioned how short their separation would be, and what benefit would accrue to Amanda from it.
This last consideration recalled to his mind instantly composed him, and he handed them to her ladyship’s chariot, which was followed by a hired chaise containing her woman and Ellen; he then sighed her a last adieu, returned to his solitary habitation to pray, and in spite of all his efforts, weep for his darling child.
Amanda’s tears streamed down her pale cheek, and never did she experience a pang of such sorrow as that she felt, when, the chaise descending a hill, she caught the last glimpse of Castle Carberry.
She perceived, however, that her ladyship had no relish for a gloomy companion, and therefore endeavored to recover her spirits, and enter into conversation.
Lady Greystock had a number of friends in that part of Ireland, and therefore never stopped at an inn.
“I always, my dear,” said she to Amanda, “make use of the friendship professed for me, and thus endeavor to render the great road of life delightful.”