Lady Betty quickly recovered herself, and as Griselda left the room she heard her aunt's usual dulcet tones and the inevitable giggle as the young lord, who was sorely at a loss how to "kill time," sank down in the chair Sir Maxwell had so lately left, and the usual badinage went on and received an additional piquancy by the arrival of two or three more idle people who had been to the Pump Room for their afternoon glass of water, and missing Lady Betty, had come to inquire for her health, and to talk the usual amount of scandal, or harmless gossip, as the case might be.
The various love affairs on the tapis were discussed in their several aspects, and Mrs. Greenwood's plain daughters were made the target for the shafts of foolish satire.
"Could you fancy, my lady, that the vulgar mother asked young Mr. Beresford what his intentions were because he had danced twice with that fright, her daughter Bell, out of sheer pity? Lor', what fun young Beresford is making of her!"
"Ridiculous! vastly amusing!" exclaimed Lady Betty.
"But there is another marriage spoken of. I hear you are to give your beautiful ward"--Lady Betty's friends always took care to call Griselda a ward, not a niece--"to Sir Maxwell Danby. He has a fine place, upon my word," said an old beau, who posed as a young one. "He has a fine place, and a pretty fortune. I congratulate you, madam, and the young lady. For my part, I always have reckoned her the belle of Bath this season."
Lady Betty smiled, and accepted the congratulation and the admiration at the same time.
"Sir Maxwell had just left her," she said.
"Where is the young lady?" the old gentleman asked. "Upon my word, Danby is a lucky fellow. There are many who will envy him. I confess _I_ am one."
"Yes. I say, where is Miss Mainwaring?" Lord Basingstoke asked.
And Lady Betty, flirting her fan vigorously, said:
"She has a headache, and will not be at the Assembly to-night, I fear."
Griselda was glad to escape to her own room that she might have time to think over her position and decide what was best to do, and what was the next step to take.
She laid aside her dress and hoop, and put on a long morning-gown which Lady Betty had discarded because the colour was unbecoming; and then, opening her desk, chose a very smooth sheet of Bath-post paper, and sat with her quill pen in her hand as if uncertain what to write.