Dinner wound down the way Whitaker events always did. Slowly, warmly, with Mrs. Whitaker extracting promises from everyone before she would let them leave.
"You'll visit next week," she told Sophie. Her voice was firm, a signal that it was not a question.
"I'll try, Mrs. Whitaker."
"You will visit next week," she repeated, putting emphasis on each word.
Sophie could only laugh. "Yes, Mrs. Whitaker."
Only then did the older woman seem satisfied. She held Sophie's hands for a moment, slightly longer than necessary. Her kind eyes searched Sophie’s in a way that was reassuring.
"You're doing well," Mrs. Whitaker finally said. "Better than you think."
Sophie opened her mouth, closed it again. "Thank you," was all she managed.
The butler appeared with her coat and helped Sophie slip into
