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Standing a little behind her mother, slender, fair and delicately lovely,
she might seem to be a shadow of Lady Frewin.
But there is a directness in her gaze, when Phoebe forgets that her eyes
should be modestly lowered and she instead surveys the world with candid
brown eyes. And an unveiled curiosity about the new world in which she
finds herself. She has heard tales of Amber all her life ... and now she
has the opportunity, she feels, to discover the truth of them for herself.
If, of course, she can escape her mother.
Very young is Phoebe, fresh from the convent school where - it is to be
hoped - hoydenish or tomboyish ways have been curbed to produce a proper and
modest young lady, meek and demure. As so she looks in a simple muslin
gown, standing behind her mother. And if her mother watches her with what
seems, at times, to verge on apprehension, well, that must be a mother's
natural propensity to be over-protective of her daughter, and surely not a
reflection of Phoebe's possessing an uncanny ability to get into scrapes.
Surely not.
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