"No, no, much smaller, much more intimate. Twelve guests. It must be exclusive," replied Mrs. Vane. She was paging through her own notebook, its cover worn at the edges, still guarding the secrets of her glory days of entertaining.
Discovering the page for which she sought, she said, "Ah, here it is, the menu from my most magnificent dinner party. I gave it in spring so a few courses will have to be altered a little, but I think it will work nicely. We will have to find additional kitchen staff of course, but that should not be a problem this time of year."
"Extra staff? For just twelve guests?" Rebecca asked disbelievingly.
Mrs. Vane leaned across the divan, bridging the space between herself and her sister-in-law, she placed her notebook atop Rebecca's allowing her to peruse what I must assume was a very complicated menu, for after a moment Rebecca whispered a very stunned, "Oh."
"It was worth it. People talked about it for years," said Mrs. Vane impressively.
"Years?"
"Years," Mrs. Vane repeated with pride.
It is perhaps surprising that Mrs. Vane, who previously showed only disdain for Rebecca, is now sitting quite contentedly next to her planning a dinner party—a dinner party I will apparently be the hostess of—not directing a single catty quip her way . . . or my way which is beyond disconcerting.
This sudden lack of viciousness is better understood when one realizes Mrs. Vane is conserving her malicious energy for Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine who is sitting in thechair Rebecca may or may not have peed on yesterday (I forgot to mention it to the housekeeper so it was probably not cleaned with any special attention) also planning a dinner party I will be the hostess of. Adifferentdinner party. It happens to be scheduled for the same day, but that is all it has in common with Rebecca and Mrs. Vane's—excuse me—mydinner party.
Lady Catherine did not bring a little notebook. Inexcusably ill-prepared, she is. Even I have a little notebook. Mrs. Vane gave it to me when I arrived and I have written nothing in it, but still. I have one. Lady Catherine, it would seem, does not need one as she is doing her planning aloud. In other words, she is talking to herself. No one is listening to her anymore.
I am also in the drawing room, sitting in a chair I am fairly certain has not been urinated on recently. I am not planning a dinner party I will be hostess of. Even if I had any desire to have a dinner party in the immediate future, I know there is no point in planning one as in a few minutes it will be something else. A musicale. A ball. A picnic with games on the lawn. Fine, probably not the last one (though I doubt Mrs. Vane would allow a small thing like the weather to stand in her way). But at the beginning of this session we (they) were planning a casual card party. Now it is an elaborate dinner party. It is escalating. Lord have mercy.
Rebecca, finishing her examination of Mrs. Vane's menu, handed the notebook back to her and said, "I think this is mostly perfect, but for the dessert course we should order out."
"Order out?" cried Mrs. Vane in a tone of greater outrage than anyone should have concerning dessert. Especially since, according to Belinda, pudding at the Vane house had been rubbish anyway.
Mrs. Vane continued, shaking her head, "I know some people order from a confectionery but I've always thought it is better to show that your own servants are capable of delicacies. It makes everyone envious thinking you dine so lavishly all the time. After I served this dinner, Lady Rafferty tried to poach my cook."
"I did not mean just any confectionery. I meant ices, from Gunter's."
"Ices," repeated Mrs. Vane as if the concept was a revolutionary stroke of genius.
"Mrs. Harwick did it."
"Really?" asked Mrs. Vane. I have no idea who Mrs. Harwick is but apparently she is Someone.
"Raspberry mint," confirmed Rebecca.
Mrs. Vane looked wistful, no doubt thinking of all the dinner invitations she had turned down these last few years. Recovering her authority she said,"We would have to have more. Three flavors at least. Choices."
"Obviously," agreed Rebecca with a single solemn nod that made her curls dance merrily. Her pen scratched audibly as it recorded the details.
They are going to talk about centerpieces next. I just know it.
"Now for the entertainment—"
Well, I was wrong. I felt certain it would be centerpieces.
"After such a dinner we need something more elegant than simply playing cards."
"Music. A professional. A stringed quartet and perhaps a singer from the opera. Whoever is the latest craze."
Rebecca nodded, still recording.
"And for the centerpieces—" Lady Catherine said, her voice suddenly rising over the others. Ha. I was right about the centerpieces after all. I am so good at this game.
Mrs. Vane and Rebecca fell silent for a moment, glancing at Lady Catherine with the sort of curious pity one might spare for a begger on the street. In unison they turned back to each other.
"It is a pity Georgiana is not out so she could play. She is as good as any professional, it would be a wonderful chance to display," said Rebecca.
