Amethyst: The Story of a BeautyColeridge, Christabel R. (Christabel Rose)
General
Amethyst: The Story of a Beauty
Coleridge, Christabel R. (Christabel Rose)
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"I'm afraid, dear," she said gently, "that Eaton Square won't be a very
heavenly sort of place for either of us. If we are tied to any stakes
there, no doubt we shall have to smile at them, but I doubt whether the
smiles will come from heaven!"
"I shall not mind Eaton Square now," said Una.
"Well," said Amethyst, giving herself a sort of mental shake, "anyhow,
we have to live there for the next three months. So we must do the best
we can."
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
MARSHALLING THE COMPANY.
"I never did see any use in making pretences. People always see through
them, and then where are you? If I did try to look as if I had
thousands to spare, not a soul would believe me. Nothing answers like
telling the truth."
This beautiful sentiment was uttered by Lady Haredale one bright
afternoon, some few weeks after the arrival of the party from Silverfold
at the house in Eaton Square.
The big drawing-rooms were flooded with all the sunlight that a spring
day in London could supply, perhaps in illustration of Lady Haredale's
contempt of pretences; for their handsome fittings and furniture had
seen many sets of tenants for the season, and were by no means in their
first freshness. But, as Lady Haredale said, "Who cared?--There were
some houses, she believed, where people were asked to come and see the
furniture, but she asked people to come and see herself and her girls--
and they generally came."
Liberally supplied with flowers, and filled with graceful inhabitants,
the effect of the shabby, elegant drawing-room, with its open windows
and fearless daylight, was not amiss.
Indeed, there was a touch of genius in the way Lady Haredale faced the
situation, and, spite of the ineffaceable memories behind her, Amethyst
was sometimes almost bewitched into believing her mother to be the most
ingenuous of women. Lady Haredale often bought trifles for herself or
for her daughters, which took her fancy, and which were always tasteful
and becoming, quite regardless of the cost; but she never bought
anything, or chose anything, to conceal the fact that they had less than
the usual amount to spend on their clothes. She forestalled the
comments of acquaintances by the simplest confession.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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