“That would be lovely,” Mrs. Rosewood said and settled herself back on the sofa and looked across to the empty space on the opposite side.
“I’ll be back in a moment with your tea,” Mr. Hobbs said. His balding bowed head retreated backward from the room, and then he closed the morning room doors after him.
Catherine shuffled over to the sofa and took a seat across from Mrs. Rosewood. She folded her hands in her lap and bit her lip, wondering what to do next. She unlaced her fingers, and dropped them to her side, shifted her legs. She crossed and uncrossed her ankles and glanced toward the door. How long before Mr. Hobbs came back with the tea? Should she talk to Mrs. Rosewood about what she had seen, would she understand?
“Is anything the matter?” Mrs. Rosewood prompted.
Catherine’s gaze jerked back toward her. “Not at all.” Her mouth suddenly felt very dry.
The door creaked open as Miss Larson rolled in the tea cart with a steaming pot of tea and two porcelain cups.
“Let me help.” Catherine rose up and strode over to Miss Larson.
“There’s no need, my lady,” Miss Larson said, flapping her hands to shoo Catherine away.
Catherine’s hands fell to her sides, and a flush burned her cheeks. She sheepishly returned to her seat as Miss Larson set the teacups out in front of each of them. She poured the tea for Mrs. Rosewood first.
“Sugar?” Miss Larson asked.
“Yes, two lumps. Thank you, Miss...” Mrs. Rosewood tilted her head to the side as she studied Miss Larson’s face.
“Miss Larson, ma’am.” Miss Larson dipped her head in a shallow bob.
She plopped a couple cubes of sugar into Mrs. Rosewood’s tea and then handed it to her.
“A lovely girl. Thank you for taking care of our dear Catherine,” Mrs. Larson said, smiling as she stirred her tea.
Miss Larson filled her cup and put a single cube of sugar for Catherine without asking. She hadn’t even realized she’d memorized her preference. Miss Larson set down a slice of honey cake for each of them along with their tea before straightening up. A proud glow graced her features.
“Will there be anything else?” Miss Larson asked.
“No, that will be all. Thank you,” Catherine remarked.
Miss Larson bobbed her head once more before rolling the cart out of the room. Silence fell once more. Catherine picked up her teacup just to have something to do with her hands but didn’t bring it to her lips to take a drink. The warmth of the tea was comforting, spreading from her palms and upward. The same way the magic she’d experienced with Mr. Thorn had warmed her body, though this wasn’t a tenth of the warmth of that strange magic. Across from her, Mrs. Rosewood took a sip of her tea.
“I thought the two of us might have a chat?” Mrs. Rosewood said as she set down her teacup and saucer with a gentle clink.
“I was worried sick when you disappeared, it reminded me so much of our dear Grace,” Mrs. Rosewood continued.
“Who was Grace?” Catherine asked, her voice wobbled even as she tried to steady it.
“Did Edward not... I suppose it is a painful story...”
Her skin prickled at the words. This was it. The secret she felt they’d been holding back the night before. Mrs. Rosewood knew about the fae. Or at least she hoped she did. If she were wrong, Catherine would expose herself. If they didn’t believe as her parents hadn’t, then it would only be a matter of time before they sent her back to Elk Grove. Catherine clasped her hands together in her lap to hide their trembling.
“What do you mean?” She couldn’t resist. She had to know more. She felt as if she were walking a fine line. One wrong move and everything could come crumbling down upon her.
“Grace was Edward’s mother. She died when he was young. He doesn’t like to talk about her or the circumstances in which she... died,” Mrs. Rosewood said.
Catherine stared at her wide-eyed. She had to bite her tongue to not demand answers. It may have nothing at all to do with the death of Miss Ashton, but something told her these tales had something in common. Why else would Mrs. Rosewood be here?
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She paused and licked her lips. “How did she pass?”
Catherine’s heart was racing in her chest, and her palms were sweaty.
Mrs. Rosewood’s gaze flickered over to the closed doors. “Edward has forbidden everyone from speaking about them. You understand...”
“Them?” Catherine said through parched lips. She must be imagining things. Surely Mrs. Rosewood meant someone else...
