Mrs. Somerville began to grow visibly agitated as the front-door shut and voices were audible on the staircase. In a few moments Lady Eliza Lamont and Miss Raeburn were announced.
It was only a sense of duty which had brought Lady Eliza to Mrs. Somerville’s party, and it would hardly have done so had not Robert Fullarton represented to her that having three times refused an invitation might lay her open to the charge of incivility. As she entered, all eyes were turned in her direction; she was dressed in the uncompromising purple gown which had served her faithfully on each occasion during the last ten years that she had been obliged, with ill-concealed impatience, to struggle into it. She held her fan as though it had been a weapon of offence; on her neck was a beautifully wrought amethyst necklace. Behind her came Cecilia in green and white, with a bunch of snowdrops on her breast and her tortoiseshell comb in her hair.
‘We had almost despaired of seeing your ladyship,’ said Mrs. Somerville; ‘and you, too, dear Miss Raeburn. Pray come this way, Lady Eliza. Where will you like to sit?’
‘I will take that seat by Captain Somerville,’ said the newcomer, eyeing a small cane-bottomed chair which stood near the sofa, and longing to be rid of her hostess.
‘Oh, not there!’ cried the lady. ‘Lucilla, my dear, roll up the velvet armchair. Pray, pray allow me, Lady Eliza! I cannot let you sit in that uncomfortable seat—indeed I cannot!’
But her victim had installed herself.
‘I am not able to offer you this one,’ said Captain Somerville; ‘for I am a fixture, unfortunately.’
‘Lady Eliza, let me beg you——’
‘Much obliged, ma’am; I am very comfortable here. Captain Somerville, I am glad to find you, for I feared you were away,’ said Lady Eliza. She had a liking for the sailor which had not extended itself to his wife.
‘I have been up the coast these last three weeks inspecting; my wife insisted upon my getting home in time for to-night. I had not intended to, but I obeyed her, you see.’