By the time Emily Walderhurst had reached Palstrey, Ameerah knew many things.

She understood that her mistress was as one who, standing upon the brink of a precipice, was being slowly but surely pushed over its edge--pushed, pushed by Fate.

This was the thing imaged in her mind when she shut herself up in her room and stood alone in the midst of the chamber clenching her dark hands high above her white veiled head, and uttering curses which were spells, and spells which were curses.
Emily was glad that she had elected to be alone as much as possible, and had not invited people to come and stay with her.

She had not invited people, in honest truth, because she felt shy of the responsibility of entertainment while Walderhurst was not with her.

It would have been proper to invite his friends, and his friends were all people she was too much in awe of, and too desirous to please to be able to enjoy frankly as society.