Behind A Mask or, A Woman’s Power by Louisa May Alcott

“Has she come?”
“No, Mamma, not yet.”
“I wish it were well over. The thought of it worries and excites me. A cushion for my back, Bella.”
And poor, peevish Mrs. Coventry sank into an easy chair with a nervous sigh and the air of a martyr, while her pretty daughter hovered about her with affectionate solicitude.
“Who are they talking of, Lucia?” asked the languid young man lounging on a couch near his cousin, who bent over her tapestry work with a happy smile on her usually haughty face.