"About that," Victoria said, catching another escapee. "I hope you drank that water, because if there’s anything grandmama likes less than lack of punctuality, it’s a drunk."
"You didn’t rate homosexuality on that scale," Ambrose said glumly. "But I drank the water. And I’m definitely more sober. Which is good, because I'm done, Vic. Done pretending, done lying, done being something I'm not just to make everyone comfortable."
"Ambrose—"
"I'm going to tell Grandmother. Right now. After we sort this out." He gestured at the ongoing kitten roundup. He leaned in and lifted an eyebrow. "And you should be honest too."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" He shook his head. "In the end, Vic, honesty’s the only thing you’ve got. So you might as well say your piece."
Before Victoria could respond, he was gone, presumably to fight his battle. Which was when her mother stepped in.
"What was all that about?" Her mother's voice was carefully neutral.
Victoria sighed. She was so tired. Tired of all this. Tired of feelings. She took her mother’s elbow and pulled her into an alcove, marginally quieter than the main chaos.
"Mother—"
"Whatever you have to say, you can say it to me, darling. I mean it. I know I’ve been preoccupied with the party, but you’ve been distracted yourself, haven’t you? Is there something you'd like to tell me about work? You've been rather… tense this holiday. More than usual."
The careful concern in her mother's voice was worse than anger would have been. Victoria found herself crumbling under that gentle maternal gaze.
"I was made redundant," she said quietly. "Right before I came here. My entire department, actually."
"Oh, darling." Lady Charlotte's expression softened immediately. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because I'm supposed to be the perfect daughter with the perfect career and the perfect life. Because I've spent thirty-one years being the one who never puts a foot wrong. Because I couldn't bear to see disappointment in your eyes when you realized I'm not actually as successful as you thought."
"Victoria." Her mother's voice was firm. "Do you honestly think we love you because of your job title?"
"No, but… Don't you?"
"Oh, my dear girl." Lady Charlotte pulled her into a hug that smelled of expensive perfume and maternal comfort. "We're proud of you because you're kind and brilliant and you care about people. The banking was just something you did, not who you are."
Victoria felt tears threatening and blinked them back fiercely. "I got a new job just this afternoon. That’s what the back and forth to London has been about. Everything should be back to normal soon."
"Should it?" Lady Charlotte's voice was carefully neutral. "Is normal what you want?"
Before Victoria could answer, Sasha appeared with an armload of kittens, looking flustered but determined.
"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got them all. Sophie's moving them to the stable block before anyone realizes exactly how many there are."
"Eight," Lady Charlotte said mildly.
Sasha blinked. "You knew?"
"Darling, I've raised four children. I know when someone's hiding something furry and making messes. I was just waiting for Sophie to trust us enough to ask for help. I’m not quite as dim as I might seem. Besides, my mother-in-law is allergic to two things: cats and door-to-door salesman, and I didn’t think Sophie was the entrepreneurial type."
The party gradually returned to normal, though with significantly more cat hair on everyone's evening wear. Victoria found herself on the terrace, ostensibly getting air but actually trying to process her mother's words and Ambrose's advice. But she knew she had no choice. She had to tell Sasha she was leaving the next morning.
???
Sasha found herself crawling under a chaise lounge in pursuit of Newton. The absurdity of chasing escaped kittens througha house party wasn't lost on her, especially when she emerged with cat hair in her mouth and dirt on her knees.
"Got him," she announced triumphantly, holding up the squirming ginger menace. "Though I think he's plotting his next escape already."
The chaos swirled around her as guests aided recovery efforts. Mrs. Pemberton-Smythe was making baby talk at Darwin while Lord Harrison attempted to corner Livingstone with his walking stick. It was like watching a very posh version of a wildlife documentary.
