Lydia Sandefer

“You’re very impatient,” Violet said, facing the door. “You always have been.”

“I know,” Eloise said, wondering if this was a scolding, and if so, why was her mother choosing to do it now?

“I always loved that about you,” Violet said. “I always loved everything about you, of course, but for some reason I always found your impatience especially charming. It was never because you wanted more, it was because you wanted everything.”

Eloise wasn’t so sure that sounded like such a good trait.

“You wanted everything for everyone, and you wanted to know it all and learn it all, and . . .”

For a moment Eloise thought her mother might be done, but then Violet turned around and added, “You’ve never been satisfied with second-best, and that’s good, Eloise. I’m glad you never married any of those men who proposed in London. None of them would have made you happy. Content, maybe, but not happy.”

Eloise felt her eyes widen with surprise.

“But don’t let your impatience become all that you are,” Violet said softly. “Because it isn’t, you know. There’s a great deal more to you, but I think sometimes you forget that.” She smiled, the gentle, wise smile of a mother saying goodbye to her daughter.”
― Julia Quinn, To Sir Phillip, With Love