Edith's glance swept around the room. If she was to go and speak to any of the other elegantly dressed diners here tonight they would consider her welcome and charming company. They'd ask her opinion on subjects, and actually listen to her replies.
With her family, however, any sparkling intelligence ceased to exist. She became not only dull and awkward, but ignorant and downright rude at times.
She rarely apologised to her family for this behaviour, seeing it as somehow their fault, but she thought she owed it to Tom on this occasion. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to come out exactly that way. Our reasons for marrying..."
"The rest of the reasons, other than this Gregson thing, are sound."
Edith nodded slowly. "You get a wife who will be able to keep other women away from you, as well as a suitable mother figure for your daughter." Her shoulders slumped. "But Sybil was so much stronger than I am."
"Sybil was the strongest woman I'd ever met," Tom agreed.
"Remember when she wore trousers?" Edith asked, laughing.
Tom also laughed at the memory. "She worked during the war; she married a man who once lived in a garage... She remained a lady though." He took a long drink to compose himself before continuing: "You're stronger than you think. She was your sister, after all."
"There's Mary-"
"Mary is rather useless right now, forgive me for saying. She has her own child, and her own loss. Sybbie needs you. She's your niece. I'm sure Sybil died hoping you'd become a mother to her daughter, whether you married me or not."
Her gaze drifted again to the dancefloor. Michael was smiling in her direction. She couldn't manage to return his smile.
Tom was right. Sybbie should be their first priority.