The Invitation

  * * *

  A WEEK LATER the sisters were sitting together amidst the packed and packaged disorder of their household goods, reminiscing about the past and speculating upon the future. Their aunt had replied favorably to the letter Abbie had written. They were to go to London. Mariana had taken the news silently. The Crawfords, too, were plainly disappointed, but they offered little in the way of argument and at last accepted the sisters’ decision with grace.

  “Do we know anything at all about this aunt?” Mariana asked. They were almost the first words she had spoken since the reply had arrived.

  “She is a widow,” Abbie answered. “She has been many years alone, I believe, and, at least by her lawyer’s declaration—for he is the one who wrote the letter—she has both the means and the room to spare for our support.”

  “Is she very well off, do you think?” Mariana asked, a faint spark of hope dimming the despair in her eyes.

  “She married well, I believe,” Abbie answered. “Surely she has many connections in London. No doubt we will benefit by her generosity.” She glanced up from the framed photograph she was wrapping to see her sister watching her hopefully. She could not help but encourage her to think well of this new adventure. “Who’s to say we might not accomplish very great things indeed under her influence?”

  Mariana, for the first time in days, actually smiled, though it was rather weak at that.

  “I don’t want to leave any more than you do,” Abbie said and embraced her sister. “But this is for the best. You will see. We’ve done all we can. Now we must be brave and leave the rest to God and chance.”