Mrs. Crescent launched into an anecdote about how much Mr. Wrightman admired mothers like her and how he wanted to be a father. One of his cousins recently had a baby and named it after him, and the moment he held that baby he knew he was ready. Ready to fal in love, marry the woman of his dreams, and have children.
Fiona stepped in carrying a tray with a Wedgwood teapot, teacups, and some sort of bread piled high and set the tray on a table near Mrs.
Crescent.
Chloe couldn’t believe a maidservant was serving her tea in her boudoir, and she leaned in to admire the teapot’s design. Both sides of it had been hand-painted with the ruins of an abbey standing in a field of yel ow flowers and green grass.
Grace sprawled in a chair Fiona had pul ed up for her. “Wel , there is one other thing that makes it exciting. But when you’ve been here for weeks as we have without—”
“Wait a minute. Did you say you’ve been here for—weeks?” Chloe pul ed her own Empire chair to the table.
“We’ve been here, what, three weeks now, Mrs. Crescent?”
Mrs. Crescent nodded. Chloe plopped down in her chair, rattling the teacups in their saucers. “Three weeks?!” She lowered her voice. “I mean—
real y?”
“Real y.” Grace took a skeleton key from her lap, unlocked a wooden box on the tea tray, and scooped tea leaves into a strainer over the teapot.
The cameraman turned his camera on Chloe. The mike dug into her back, her stomach roiled, and her ears burned, she was so upset. The rule book said a Regency lady must never go to emotional extremes. She should never be too happy, too sad, or too angry. Suddenly she didn’t even want tea. She gaped at Mrs. Crescent, who was buttering her bread. Fifi scuttled over to the table, wagging his curl of a tail. George had warned her of surprises, but this? How many Accomplishment Points had the other women garnered in al that time? And they obviously had already gotten to know Mr. Wrightman. She felt the urge to hurl a teacup into the camera. “Mrs. Crescent, wil you pass the knife, please?”
Mrs. Crescent looked up from her plate.
“The butter knife, please. And the butter.” Chloe buttered her bread with vigor then stabbed the butter knife upright into the butter dish. Her first English tea in England—ruined. Stil , she realized that she hadn’t eaten since the breakfast on the airplane. And sheer excitement had kept her from eating then. So she hadn’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours and real y was starved. The bread tasted grainy, though, and too floury, which indicated that the food, too, would be historical y correct.
Mrs. Crescent spoke first. “Miss Parker. We’ve been here three weeks and several women have come and gone. Last week, my former charge, Miss Gately, had to leave due to a family emergency, and that’s why you were chosen to join us. Miss Gately made the most amazing things out of bits and bobs, didn’t she, Lady Grace?”
“Oh yes,” said Grace. “She was so talented. So accomplished. She took a rather insipid bonnet of mine and made it quite attractive, real y. Pity she had to leave.”
The tea was watery and Chloe looked into her cup. Had she come al this way to drink weak tea and play second string in a posse of women vying for Mr. Wrightman’s attention?
“Something wrong with your tea, dear?” Mrs. Crescent asked Chloe.
“No. Yes. It’s so much different from what I had expected. You can imagine.”
“You wil come to like it, as I have,” Mrs. Crescent said. “Fiona, please put some sugar in Miss Parker’s tea.”
Fiona took a tongslike tool and cut off three lumps of brown sugar from a mound in a dish on the table. She dropped the lumps into Chloe’s tea and stirred for her.
“Tea is very expensive, what with the Napoleonic Wars,” Mrs. Crescent explained.
Fiona dropped Chloe’s teaspoon on the floor. “Sorry. So sorry, miss,” she said.
“It’s fine. No worries—not to worry.”
Grace yawned and covered her mouth. “It’s so quiet here one quite forgets al about the wars.”
Fiona was holding on to the fireplace mantel as if to brace herself.
“Are you al right, Fiona?” Chloe asked.
Grace locked the tea caddy. “One great thing about war. Al those gorgeous men in red coats.”
Fiona hurried out. Chloe stood to go after her, but Mrs. Crescent patted the chair for her to sit down. “Since tea is expensive, it’s kept under lock and key here,” she continued. “Perhaps you don’t do that in America. The highest- ranking lady—that would be Lady Grace here at Bridesbridge—
holds the key to the tea caddy.”
Grace hooked the tea-caddy key to a bejeweled thing dangling from the side of her waist.
“Do you quite like my chatelaine?” she asked Chloe. “Only the lady of the house carries one. See? There’s my watch on one chain. My seal on another. And the tea-caddy key. It real y is quite clunky with this thing clanking around al the time. But it is a status symbol, I suppose.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to lug one around,” Chloe said.
Mrs. Crescent cleared her throat. “Often, to conserve supply, we brew the tea weak. Very weak indeed. In lesser houses, tea leaves are reused.”
The tea did taste better with sugar, and al this talk of tea would’ve been more interesting if Chloe had not been so angry that this thing started three weeks ago and they’d obviously added her only to amp up the drama.
