The slender, dark-haired beauty, taller than Diana by at least three inches, had stirred everyone’s interest from the moment of her arrival with her parents, first because her father, the tenth Earl of Westmorland, had chosen, in Lady Ophelia’s words, “to inflict his presence upon the house party,” and secondly because Lady Sarah’s inheritance was so great that it must command interest in any company. However, as the days passed, Lady Sarah’s light began to dim, and despite her magnificent fortune, she was discerned to be not entirely above reproach. “A tiresome schoolgirl,” said Lady Ophelia predictably late Wednesday morning when Diana chanced to find her alone for a moment in the blue parlor. “Young Sarah—for call her Sally after her mama I will not, and she no longer wishes to be styled Sophie, as I’m given to understand she was during her childhood—young Sarah carries delusions of her worth beyond all limits. She talks too much and too often and has a coarseness of manner that I cannot like.
