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All frayed edges were entirely internal.
Reassured that her armor was still sound, Mary walked resolutely to the carved double doors that fronted the Great Chamber, wishing she didn’t feel quite so much like Marie Antoinette ascending the steps to the guillotine. Like so much else, the immense double doors were a sham. Within the massive, carved carapace was one normal-sized door, set into the larger edifice. Easing it open, Mary could hear the cacophony of chatter that marked a successful party, the shrill tones of the dowagers in their corner underpinned by the bass rumble of male conversation.
The clink of silver against china accented the clatter of voices. In her absence, the supper tray had been brought in. An array of delicacies had been set on a long trestle table at the far end of the room, blackened with age and supported by a series of curiously contorted Titans. One of them was most definitely sticking out its tongue. The scent of richly spiced game warred with the perfumes of the women above a musty undertone of damp tapestry and warped wood. Keeping country hours, they had had their dinner at six, eating in state at the battered old table in the Great Hall below, with Letty at one end and Geoffrey at the other. At least the appearance of the supper tray meant that the hideous evening was almost over.
Until they were forced to repeat the whole process tomorrow.
Mary paused to consider her options. The thought of more food rather turned her stomach, but at least a plate gave her an excuse for avoiding conversation. Directly in front of her, Lady Henrietta Dorrington and Lord Richard Selwick’s wifewhat was her name again?were deep in animated chatter. Mary rather doubted they would welcome her company.
“I never thought it was a wise idea,” declared Lord Richard’s wife, jabbing her fork into a piece of cold game pie. “But you know Jane”
“and her choice in bonnets!” finished Henrietta Dorrington brightly, driving an elbow into her companion’s ribs. “I never understood why she insisted on buying the yellow, when yellow is the one color that doesn’t flatter her complexion. Hello, Miss Alsworthy. Have you had anything to eat yet?”
Mary had had quite enough humble pie for one day. She had never liked Lady Henrietta, and Lady Henrietta had never liked her.
“As much as anyone can be expected to stomach,” she said with a smile just as bright as Henrietta’s. “My sister sets an excellent table.”
Lady Henrietta gave Mary a slightly wary look. “Well, you should really try the braised duck. It’s excellent.” Turning to Amy Selwick, she asked, “Will you and Richard go to Scotland for the shooting?”
Lord Richard’s wife shook her head, setting her short dark curls bouncing. “No, we’re straight back to Sussex. We plan” Glancing at Mary, she abruptly broke off. “Um, that is, we have obligations that keep us close to home.”
Increasing, thought Mary. How dull.
“You and Miles will come visit, won’t you?” Amy said eagerly, confirming Mary’s diagnosis. “Before Christmas? It would be such a help to us. Jane will be visiting, too.”
“You know we would like to,” said Lady Henrietta, with a pointed glance over her shoulder, to where their respective husbands propped up opposite ends of the mantelpiece, conspicuously ignoring each other. At least, Lord Richard was conspicuously ignoring Mr. Dorrington. Mr. Dorrington looked a bit like a dog hoping to wiggle his way back after having been booted off the hearth rug. Mary did vaguely recall hearing something about a falling out between the two men, something to do with Lady Henrietta’s marriage, but with Geoffrey’s defection following only a day behind, the domestic dramas of the Selwick clan had been the least of her concerns.
Amy made a face. “Don’t worry. Richard is coming round. Slowly, but ”
Reassured that her armor was still sound, Mary walked resolutely to the carved double doors that fronted the Great Chamber, wishing she didn’t feel quite so much like Marie Antoinette ascending the steps to the guillotine. Like so much else, the immense double doors were a sham. Within the massive, carved carapace was one normal-sized door, set into the larger edifice. Easing it open, Mary could hear the cacophony of chatter that marked a successful party, the shrill tones of the dowagers in their corner underpinned by the bass rumble of male conversation.
The clink of silver against china accented the clatter of voices. In her absence, the supper tray had been brought in. An array of delicacies had been set on a long trestle table at the far end of the room, blackened with age and supported by a series of curiously contorted Titans. One of them was most definitely sticking out its tongue. The scent of richly spiced game warred with the perfumes of the women above a musty undertone of damp tapestry and warped wood. Keeping country hours, they had had their dinner at six, eating in state at the battered old table in the Great Hall below, with Letty at one end and Geoffrey at the other. At least the appearance of the supper tray meant that the hideous evening was almost over.
Until they were forced to repeat the whole process tomorrow.
Mary paused to consider her options. The thought of more food rather turned her stomach, but at least a plate gave her an excuse for avoiding conversation. Directly in front of her, Lady Henrietta Dorrington and Lord Richard Selwick’s wifewhat was her name again?were deep in animated chatter. Mary rather doubted they would welcome her company.
“I never thought it was a wise idea,” declared Lord Richard’s wife, jabbing her fork into a piece of cold game pie. “But you know Jane”
“and her choice in bonnets!” finished Henrietta Dorrington brightly, driving an elbow into her companion’s ribs. “I never understood why she insisted on buying the yellow, when yellow is the one color that doesn’t flatter her complexion. Hello, Miss Alsworthy. Have you had anything to eat yet?”
Mary had had quite enough humble pie for one day. She had never liked Lady Henrietta, and Lady Henrietta had never liked her.
“As much as anyone can be expected to stomach,” she said with a smile just as bright as Henrietta’s. “My sister sets an excellent table.”
Lady Henrietta gave Mary a slightly wary look. “Well, you should really try the braised duck. It’s excellent.” Turning to Amy Selwick, she asked, “Will you and Richard go to Scotland for the shooting?”
Lord Richard’s wife shook her head, setting her short dark curls bouncing. “No, we’re straight back to Sussex. We plan” Glancing at Mary, she abruptly broke off. “Um, that is, we have obligations that keep us close to home.”
Increasing, thought Mary. How dull.
“You and Miles will come visit, won’t you?” Amy said eagerly, confirming Mary’s diagnosis. “Before Christmas? It would be such a help to us. Jane will be visiting, too.”
“You know we would like to,” said Lady Henrietta, with a pointed glance over her shoulder, to where their respective husbands propped up opposite ends of the mantelpiece, conspicuously ignoring each other. At least, Lord Richard was conspicuously ignoring Mr. Dorrington. Mr. Dorrington looked a bit like a dog hoping to wiggle his way back after having been booted off the hearth rug. Mary did vaguely recall hearing something about a falling out between the two men, something to do with Lady Henrietta’s marriage, but with Geoffrey’s defection following only a day behind, the domestic dramas of the Selwick clan had been the least of her concerns.
Amy made a face. “Don’t worry. Richard is coming round. Slowly, but ”
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