Spring was here and the hunting season, only a few months hence, would mean she’d see less of Lucien. The world in general looked more promising. Now, as she watched Nathaniel heedlessly trample those innocent harbingers of hope as he inspected the ropes that tied their trunks to his carriage this chilly April morning she felt nothing but despair. Not for the first time she wondered at her strength of character in allowing him to trample her dreams and wishes in the same way he was trampling the clumps of daffodils that lined the gravel drive. Yet what alternative did she have? She was in a perilous situation. Her social isolation was bad enough, but poverty stared her in the face. With Max offering no guide as to what was in store for Julian, let alone herself, marriage to Nathaniel was the price she must pay. ‘Ah, Miss Dingley!’ Greeting Aunt Eunice with a self-satisfied smile as she issued out of the house in company with her sister, the clergyman added, ‘I have with me my sermon which you recently evinced a desire to hear and with which I shall amuse the congregation at Nuningford.
What do You think about Lady Farquhar's Butterfly?
