You were riding in a carriage through the London countryside. You were having an arranged marriage to a man you’d never met, but you heard stories… Your future mother-in-law sat across from you. Her name was Mrs Grayson, and you didn’t know her terribly well.

Mrs Grayson: I’m so glad you’ve agreed to come out with us to meet Brahms…

She smiled, but it faded, replaced by a look of looming dread. She tried to cover it up with a forced grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes.