Chapter Eight
Sara was too excited. She wanted to see London now, today. She and her aunt had arrived at Darlington House the evening before, but her aunt was refusing to stir from her room until noon.
“I am sorry, my dear, but it is simply not done in town,” she said while sitting comfortably in bed.
Sara could only watch helplessly as her aunt slowly nibbled at her piece of toast and looked through the enormous stack of invitations which rested beside her. There had been so many that they had toppled off her tray almost as soon as the maid had set it down. Now Lady Darlington was happily making piles all around her—one to respond favorably to, one to send regrets (this was the smallest pile), and one that she had yet to decide upon.
“How could you possibly get so many invitations so
