1875The letter from Carina’s Aunt Mary arrived just as she was at her lowest point.
It is six months now since your mother died, my dear, and you have lived alone for too long. You are twenty-four and it is time you saw some life. Even now, it isn’t too late for you to get married.
Dear Aunt Mary, Carina thought with a smile. She had the tact of an elephant, but she meant to be kind.
And what she said was true. After that one visit to London and the drama of the theatre trip, which now seemed so long ago, nothing remotely exciting had happened to her.
Alice had married at eighteen, not to a man with a title, as her parents had hoped, but to a parson. She now lived in Yorkshire with her husband and four children. Carina had visited them and enjoyed the sight of their happiness, but thei
