"Well, then. You must try a little of everything," Daphne suggested, "That's what we usually do when we can't decide."
"I cannot imagine being so wasteful."
"It is not being wasteful," Daphne said, her lips curving downwards into a frown for the briefest second before recovering.
"Is it not?" Alethea asked. "We are not that many people at the table, and I think we could have done with much less."
"I daresay the cook would be rather offended if she heard you," Ambrose remarked lightly. "She considers it a personal failing if there aren't at least three courses too many."
"I meant no insult," Alethea said immediately.
"I know," he replied, offering her a half-smile. "But I think you'll find that in houses like these, excess is sometimes mistaken for comfort. A bad habit, perhaps, but not always ill-intended."
Alethea considered that for a moment. "Where I come from, comfort was considered dangerous to the soul."
"Well, as I said before," Daphne replied, "things are a bit different around here. But do not worry, you will get used to it rather quickly. Let us begin eating now."
Alethea nodded, and bowed her head and pressed her hands together, murmuring a brief prayer under her breath. She had done it before every meal for as long as she could remember. When she looked up again, the table had gone quiet.
Joyce stared openly. Felicity's brow creased, and Daphne's lips were parted.
"I wasn't aware we prayed before meals," Charles commented, trying to ease the moment.
"We don't," Felicity said, too quickly. Then, catching herself, she added, "But of course… it's perfectly fine if you do."
Alethea straightened her back.
"It is what I have always done," Alethea explained, finding it rather strange that this not the norm for them. "One should always say grace before a meal."
"Of course," Daphne said gently, offering a smile to the others as though to smooth it over.
"It was beautiful," Joyce said after a pause, though she still looked mildly startled. "Perhaps we can learn a thing or two from you as well."
Alethea served herself a small portion of the steamed vegetables. It was the one familiar thing she found on the table. At the nunnery, meat was only served on rare occasions and she hadnever developed a taste for it as a consequence. As she ate, she could feel several eyes on her, watching her closely.
"So how does it feel?" Ambrose broke the silence, "You have returned home after such a long time. I imagine this must be an emotional time for you, as it is for your sisters."
"It doesn't feel emotional," Alethea replied in a steady tone. "I would argue instead that it is strange, if anything."
"Strange in what way?" Daphne asked gently, her eyes searching her sister's face for something more.
"Everything is too much," Alethea said, casting her gaze briefly around the table. "Even the silence feels different here."
"The silence?" Joyce said, making no secret of her curiosity.
"At the convent, silence was the rule, not the exception," Alethea explained. "Here, it feels like people don't know what to do with it."
"I suppose we don't," Felicity murmured, glancing at Charles as if seeking reassurance.
"I do not say that as judgment," Alethea added quickly. "Only as an observation. You asked me what it feels like."
"It's an honest answer," Ambrose said, watching her closely. "Not many people are so clear-eyed after such a change."
"I was taught that emotion clouds reason," Alethea nodded. "We were discouraged from indulging it."
"That might serve you well," Daphne said after a moment. "You'll find that in high society, reason is in far shorter supply than appearances. You'll need all the clarity you can manage."
Others on the table seemed to nod in agreement.
