Sally complained to Meg in an overly harsh whisper that drew the attention of practically everyone in the sitting room. A few unattached younger women giggled behind their needlework, wishing they were so bold. The three married ladies in attendance smiled kindly, most likely remembering days when they were as free. While the two elder aunts Meg had been forced to invite out of fear of offending their distant family frowned at Sally’s frankness. Mary Ellen could imagine the stories they would take home. “Money certainly hasn’t changed the James girls. Why, they’re as shocking as ever.” “Sally,” Meg reprimanded. Sally didn’t seem to mind. She sighed long and loud, resting her chin in her palm as she slumped against the settee next to Meg. Meg was knitting a tiny yellow baby bonnet, while Sally was pretending to work on a sampler. But with a quick glance around the richly furnished room that Grayson had redecorated in a light blue French fashion for Meg, Mary Ellen realized that most of the women were merely pretending to sew.
