Raising her eyes, she looked at her mother. As often happened when Lady Landon was displeased, she appeared to have swollen in size, as if her fury somehow puffed her up from the inside. ‘Well I never!’ A frisson of mingled anticipation and alarm rippled through the girl. ‘Why, whatever is the matter, Mama?’ ‘I am never going to buy this… this rubbish again. I shall tell Deavers to have it canceled. Oh, I am utterly mortified!’ Lucy sighed inwardly. She was well used to her mother’s fits of fury, but, just occasionally, she wished that they would not happen at the breakfast table. Perhaps, Lucy thought hopefully, her mother would be so upset that she would be unable to remain at the table. On a good day (from Lucy’s point of view) Mama would retire to her room with hartshorn and her maid, taking to her bed and the comforts of medicinal brandy. Mentally, Lucy calculated what the chances were of her mother storming from the room, if she were provoked in just the right manner.
