Edward was annoyed at all this

Edward was annoyed at all this; Lettice resented it.  She loved her husband dearly, and was proud of him, for she had discernment enough to see how superior he was in every way to her cousins, the young Holsters, who borrowed his horses, drank his wines, and yet had caught their father's habit of sneering at his profession.  Lettice wished that Edward would content himself with a purely domestic life, would let himself drop out of the company of the --shire squirearchy, and find his relaxation with her, in their luxurious library, or lovely drawing-room, so full of white gleaming statues, and gems of pictures.  But, perhaps, this was too much to expect of any man, especially of one who felt himself fitted in many ways to shine in society, and who was social by nature.  Sociality in that county at that time meant conviviality.  Edward did not care for wine, and yet he was obliged to drink--and by-and-by he grew to pique himself on his character as a judge of wine.  His father by this time was dead; dead, happy old man, with a contented heart--his affairs flourishing, his poorer neighbours loving him, his richer respecting him, his son and daughter-in-law, the most affectionate and devoted that ever man had, and his healthy conscience at peace with his God.
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Lettice could have lived to herself and her husband and children.
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Edward daily required more and more the stimulus of society.  His wife wondered how he could care to accept dinner invitations from people who treated him as "Wilkins the attorney, a very good sort of fellow," as they introduced him to strangers who might be staying in the country, but who had no power to appreciate the taste, the talents, the impulsive artistic nature which she held so dear.  She forgot that by accepting such invitations Edward was occasionally brought into contact with people not merely of high conventional, but of high intellectual rank; that when a certain amount of wine had dissipated his sense of inferiority of rank and position, he was a brilliant talker, a man to be listened to and admired even by wandering London statesmen, professional diners-out, or any great authors who might find themselves visitors in a --shire country- house.  What she would have had him share from the pride of her heart, she should have warned him to avoid from the temptations to sinful extravagance which it led him into.  He had begun to spend more than he ought, not in intellectual--though that would have been wrong--but in purely sensual things.  His wines, his table, should be such as no squire's purse or palate could command.  His dinner- parties--small in number, the viands rare and delicate in quality, and sent up to table by an Italian cook--should be such as even the London stars should notice with admiration.  He would have Lettice dressed in the richest materials, the most delicate lace; jewellery, he said, was beyond their means; glancing with proud humility at the diamonds of the elder ladies, and the alloyed gold of the younger. But he managed to spend as much on his wife's lace as would have bought many a set of inferior jewellery.  Lettice well became it all. If as people said, her father had been nothing but a French adventurer, she bore traces of her nature in her grace, her delicacy, her fascinating and elegant ways of doing all things.  She was made

for society; and yet she hated it.