'Thanks,' Reggie replied, taking the metaphorical strides that crossed all the boundaries of rank, class, wealth, and education, to arrive at the side of someone who deserved a hundred times more respect than that horrible old man. 'I would.'
THE BROOM HALL INN WAS where the autumn hunts began, the hounds and horses assembling in the courtyard for the traditional stirrup cup, marking it as a distinctly upper-class establishment. It was certainly of the proper standard for Lady Devlin to meet Alison Robinson and her daughters for tea.
It was a safe way for Lady Devlin to examine these curious women for herself, without incurring any obligations beyond a single meeting. Tea in an inn didn't require a response other than a 'thank you, I enjoyed your company,' and it didn't imply that invitations to one's house should or could be forthcoming.
Alison knew all of this, and also knew that she had passed the first test by agreeing to this meeting. It was a public place, and while that was an initial advantage, socially, it could prove to be a disaster if the single meeting was all that there was, and the rest of Broom could read the snub for themselves.
This was all part of the social game that the gentry played among themselves, to ferret out the unworthy, the unmannered, the ill-bred.
Alison knew all of the moves of the game by heart, and there was only one question in her mind as she listened to her girls snap waspishly at each other while Howse attended to their hair.
To drive, or not to drive?
The big Crosley auto could fit four, which the Hispano-Suiza would not and the inn was just far enough away that driving would not be terribly gauche. On the other hand, it was within easy walking distance, and these were times in which some self-sacrifice was expected. Decisions, decisions. . . .
It was the shoes that finally decided her; the frocks she had picked out for all three of them required town shoes, not country shoes, and in their high-heeled town shoes the girls were at risk of spraining an ankle. So off they went, rattling and chugging up the street, and when she arrived at the Inn, Alison was glad she had made that decision. Lady Devlin's auto, a magnificent Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, and her chauffeur were already there.
And Lady Devlin waited in a private parlor.
It was not, by any means, the first time that Alison had dined here, and this place and the Broom Pub with the White Swan alternated in supplying some of their meals. But this was not the usual private parlor she took; it was clear from the outset, that this room was not available for just anyone.
Lady Devlin had already ordered tea; it was waiting when they arrived, and she served as the hostess, pouring for all four of them. She was of the kind that Alison thought of as 'wispy'—soft, blond hair going to gray, styled in a fashionable chignon, soft, gray-blue linen walking suit, slight figure, doll-pretty face with soft blue eyes.
'Mrs. Robinson,' she said, as she poured the tea as a good hostess did, 'I understand that you have lived in Broom since just before the war began.'
'That is quite true, Lady Devlin,' Alison replied, taking the cup and saucer from her hostess, and making sure that their fingers touched as she did so—
Because, while Alderscroft would never have dreamed she would use magic to ensure that she became Lady Devlin's bosom friend, Alison had no scruples whatsoever on the subject. But it would have to be subtle, and work with more mundane methods of influencing Reggie's mother. So what passed between them in that moment, was a spell as wispy, as fragile, as Lady Devlin herself. And, unless you were very, very good, it was exceedingly difficult to detect.
'Then I wonder why I heard nothing of you until now?' Lady Devlin continued, pouring tea now for Carolyn, who accepted her cup with a diffident murmur of thanks.
'Oh, Lady Devlin, I would never have dreamed of pushing myself into your notice!' Alison replied, putting down her teacup and looking at Lady Devlin in consternation. 'Truth to tell, I do not know why my cousin Alderscroft
