A working woman, though an oddity amongst her own set and here Harriet spared a thought for her poor niece’s forever tarnished reputation, was far from unheard of amongst the middle classes. Or so Harriet had been told. It was to this Miss Scamander’s credit then that she wanted something better for herself – a comfort and security in life that so many young ladies these days deemed to be beneath them was not to be sniffed at.

And every family had an odd little ewe that could easily be overlooked.

“There’s nothing at all wrong with a young lady forging her own path in life in my experience,” which was broadly true, but Harriet was rather glad that it was usually the less comely awkward ones that did so, leaving the poised beauties to marry and populate the world. “Of course it was never my desire in life to be a career woman. They so frequently seem to end up alone.”
Again she thought of her niece, fastidiously ignoring that said niece was currently in the company of a man much younger than herself.

“How do you occupy your time between balls, Miss Scamander? Forgive me,” she smiled conspiratorially. “But you don’t seem the sort to be content with lolling around aimlessly.”