“I do not,” Annabelle says. “But I know you think that of yourself.”
Evie throws up her arms. “I am tired of speaking of it. Rest assured, I will say nothing. If we may end the topic.”
For the first time I believe her—and Annabelle seems to as well, because she turns to Mrs. Cunningham.
“Did you bring your supplies? I do desperately need a remedy. I am fine now—but the mornings…”
“Yes, I have bought everything that I have,” Mrs. Cunningham says. “May we go into the drawing room?”
“Of course,” Annabelle says. “And I’ll call for tea?—”
“Let me,” I say. “Go to the drawing room with your friends. I will join you in a moment.”
Annabelle looks surprised. “No, I couldn’t ask you?—”
“To arrange for tea in my own house?” I say. “I can handle tea, I think. And you should rest. And reunite with your friends. I will see to it.”
Her face softens. And her hand finds my own.
“Thank you.”
I nod as she files out of the hall. Then I ring the bell and confer with the maid about what must be brought.
I enjoy doing these domestic tasks, in truth. I have a taste and an eye for such things. I always have. I like things to be arrayed with thought and care. The right flavor, the right object, the right treat at the right moment…I like how attention to such things can make people happy.
And when I rejoin the ladies in the drawing room I am pleased that Mrs. Cunningham and Miss Colley exclaim over the cake and tea. Annabelle smiles at the warm glances this attention earns me from her friends.
It is a small thing.
But it means quite a bit to me.
And it gives me an idea.
Chapter 52
Alfred
My wife has been up late looking at the ledgers she picked up from Veronica today. Now she is finally in bed where she finds me deep in a little volume from her desk.
“Which one is it?” she says, reading the title. “Ah, yes. The classic. The young girl comes to London and is corrupted.”
“It is very erotic. And romantic in its way. She falls in love.”
“Have you gotten to the birching?”
“Birching?”
“Yes, my innocent,” she laughs. “Keep reading.”
I close the volume.
“I will do so later. Reading rather pales in comparison to my present company. And I have a matter to discuss with you.”
I then unspool my domestic idea.
“You want to take care of the household?” my wife says once I am done.
“You have a townhouse in London and a country estate, Annabelle. And someone needs to oversee them.”
