'It's no good abusing me,' said Lady Monogram. 'Here we are, and I suppose we had better get out,--unless you want the carriage to take you anywhere else.' Then Lady Monogram got out and marched into the house, and taking a candle went direct to her own room. Miss Longestaffe followed slowly to her own chamber, and having half undressed herself, dismissed her maid and prepared to write to her mother.
The letter to her mother must be written. Mr Brehgert had twice proposed that he should, in the usual way, go to Mr Longestaffe, who had been backwards and forwards in London, and was there at the present moment. Of course it was proper that Mr Brehgert should see her father,--but, as she had told him, she preferred that he should postpone his visit for a day or two. She was now agonized by many doubts. Those few words about 'various sets' and the 'mixing of things' had stabbed her to the very heart,--as had been intended. Mr Brehgert was rich. That was a certainty. But she already repented of what she had done. If it were necessary that she should really go down into another and a much lower world, a world composed altogether of Brehgerts, Melmottes, and Cohenlupes, would it avail her much to be the mistress of a gorgeous house? She had known, and understood, and had revelled in the exclusiveness of county position. Caversham had been dull, and there had always been there a dearth of young men of the proper sort; but it had been a place to talk of, and to feel satisfied with as a home to be acknowledged before the world. Her mother was dull, and her father pompous and often cross; but they were in the right set,--miles removed from the Brehgerts and Melmottes,-- until her father himself had suggested to her that she should go to the house in Grosvenor Square. She would write one letter to-night; but there was a question in her mind whether the letter should be written to her mother telling her the horrid truth,--or to Mr Brehgert begging that the match should be broken off. I think she would have decided on the latter had it not been that so many people had already heard of the match. The Monograms knew it, and had of course talked far and wide. The Melmottes knew it, and she was aware that Lord Nidderdale had heard it. It was already so far known that it was sure to be public before the end of the season. Each morning lately she had feared that a letter from home would call upon her to explain the meaning of some frightful rumours reaching Caversham, or that her father would come to her and with horror on his face demand to know whether it was indeed true that she had given her sanction to so abominable a report.