She had liked and loved Lady Glencora, and had in no degree been afraid of her during those strange visitings in Queen Anne Street;--but she was by no means sure that she should like Lady Glencora in the midst of her grandeur and surrounded by the pomp of her rank.

She would have no other friend or acquaintance in that house, and feared that she might find herself desolate, cold, and wounded in her pride.

She had been tricked into the visit, too, or rather had tricked herself into it.

She had been sure that there had been a joint scheme between her cousin and Lady Midlothian, and could not resist the temptation of repudiating it in her letter to Lady Glencora.

But there had been no such scheme; she had wronged Lady Glencora, and had therefore been unable to resist her second request.
But she felt unhappy, fearing that she would be out of her element, and more than once half made up her mind to excuse herself.
Her aunt had, from the first, thought well of her going, believing that it might probably be the means of reconciling her to Mr Grey.
Moreover, it was a step altogether in the right direction.