The weekend arrived far too quickly, much to Anne's deep and bitter disappointment. The formal meeting for the matching between the two individuals had been arranged in a private parlor at The Grand Albion inn, a neutral territory of hushed elegance where such delicate family matters were often negotiated. The room was luxurious, with heavy velvet curtains blocking out the common street, ornate mahogany furniture, and a silver tea service gleaming on a low table.
Viscountess Penelope, the wife of Late Viscount Elliot, smiling with politeness, was the first to speak. "Baroness Augusta," she said, her voice smooth, "I must congratulate you. I heard you are soon to be in-laws with the great Carson family."
Augusta, seated elegantly on a plush settee, replied with a pretend smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "Yes, Viscountess Penelope. It seems fate worked out that way."
