The Frost Fair by Elizabeth Mansfield Page B

truth I couldn’t be happier about having your company. We very seldom have visitors, you know, this place being so far from London or from any really proper society …” She sighed and pulled a handkerchief from the bosom of her dress. “It can be so very dreadfully lonely sometimes,” she said, dabbing at her eyes, “that I think I shall go quite mad.”
    â€œOh, Mama, don’t exaggerate,” Trixie muttered in disgust. “The Garrelsons come for dinner nearly every week, and so do Lady Habish and her girls—”
    â€œTo say nothing of Sir Edmund and Lady Lazenby and then-son Mortimer, ” Sybil added pointedly, making a face at her sister.
    Trixie colored to her ears. “Sybil!” she hissed warningly.
    â€œReally, girls,” Lady Carrier remonstrated, turning to glare at her daughters, “you will have her ladyship and Mrs. Underwood believing that you have no manners at all!” She turned back to Meg with an indulgent smile. “It’s quite true that I offer my table to the local gentry from time to time—one can’t live completely cut off from the world, you know—but one can’t even compare such company with the circle of friends we had in London. Oh, dear, I do miss them so!” And she dabbed at her eyes again.
    â€œMama, you know perfectly well that you find this Yorkshire society very pleasant,” Trixie insisted. “I’ve heard you say many times that you never had a better friend than Lady Habish.”
    Lady Carrier was more discomfitted than irritated by her daughter’s contrariety. “That is because Lady Habish is the sort who would fit in anywhere,” she said defensively, “even with the haut ton of London.”
    â€œWhich is more than you can say of the Lazenbys—and their so-dashing son,” Sybil said to her sister with a taunting smirk. “One could hardly picture them fitting into the tonnish circles of London.”
    â€œThey most certainly would, ” Trixie fired up angrily. “Besides, what do you know of the tonnish circles of London?”
    â€œGirls, please!” their mother cautioned with ineffectual embarrassment.
    Isabel, in an attempt to avert a quarrel between the girls, smiled at Trixie understanding. “I take it that the Lazenbys’ dashing son is a particular friend of yours?”
    Trixie blushed, but Sybil hooted mockingly. “ Very particular, I’d say. She positively dotes on him.”
    â€œSybil, you prattle-box, hold your tongue!” Trixie muttered in a threatening undervoice. “You’re setting up my bristles, and I warn you—”
    â€œThere’s no need to ruffle your feathers on our account, Trixie,” Meg said in some amusement. “My aunt and I find it perfectly natural for a lovely young lady of your age to dote on a dashing neighbor. We would account it strange if you did not.”
    Trixie cast Meg a look of surprised gratitude. “Would you really? How kind of you to say so.”
    â€œGeoffrey wouldn’t agree with you,” Sybil said, continuing to taunt her sister. “Geoffrey says Mortimer Lazenby’s a popinjay and that Trixie’s an indiscriminate—”
    â€œSybil!” her mother cried, appalled.
    â€œDash it, Sybil, I’ll—” Trixie took a threatening step toward her sister.
    â€œStop it, both of you!” Lady Carrier ordered with a real attempt at firmness. “What will our guests think of you?” She turned back to Meg, her face collapsing into tearful self-pity. “It’s all Geoffrey’s fault, you know. He’s put us all on edge, just because … because … well, I may as well admit it to you, I permitted Trixie to attend a perfectly unobjectionable little party last night …” She sniffed pitifully into her handkerchief.
    â€œIt was objectionable to Geoffrey,” Sybil said. “He guessed it was at