As the two scampered off, Ariadne waited until the lady sat and poured tea into the Sèvres cups. “How long have they been friends?”
“From the moment they ran pell-mell into each other at four at a travelling zoo,” Clara replied. “Lady Emily was with an army of nursemaids and guards, but she still managed to sneak away to sneak bread into the monkey’s cage.”
Laughing, Ariadne shook her head. “In the short time I have come to know her, I do believe you.”
“She is a smart little girl,” Clara said while dropping a cube of sugar into her tea and adding a splash of milk. “And I am so happy she and Amelia met at four years old; I sensed a growing loneliness in her, at times. It vanishes when she is with Amelie, though.”
“What do you think caused that?” Ariadne asked, deliberately playing ill-informed.
“I think it’s because she did not have a mother,” Clara replied. “It’s the same way my girls Honora and Henrietta had when I met their father.”
Ariadne startled hard enough that her spoon clattered to her saucer. “P-pardon me?”
Clara gave her a tight smile. “You didn’t know? I met my husband in the same situation as you are in. He had lost his wifeafter the girls were born. He was at his wits' end trying to care for them, and I stepped in to help. I know a thing or two about becoming a stepmother and a lady in the ton.”
“Truly?” Ariadne asked, fascinated.
“I was only the daughter of a shop girl back then,” Clara said. “And, yes, it was no small feat to transform the proprietress of a frippery shop into a countess.” The lady sipped her tea, her eyes rueful. “But I was determined, you see, to be the lady my husband deserved, such commitment.”
Ariadne found it hard to believe that this poised, confident countess had needed any refinement, but the fact that Clara had started off with less than noble origins—a scandal, she was sure— and ended up where she was, gave her hope.
She made to slather preserves on her croissant, when something warm with twitchy ears jumped on her lap. Startled, she looked down to see a long-haired white cat with startling green eyes staring at her.
“Um, hullo,” she blinked. “Who are you?”
The cat ignored her and made a few rounds on her lap before settling down in a tight circle.
“That is Queen Guinevere,” Clara laughed. “She is a particular cat.”
“Particular, how?”
“She hardly comes to anyone except me,” Clara said.
From outside the open door, a child called, “Queenie? Queenie? Where are you?”
“In here, sweetheart,” Clara called.
The two girls tumbled in to see the cat sitting atop Ariadne’s lap, and Emily’s eyes soared to her with wonder in her eyes. Resting her cup into the saucer, Ariadne gently petted the cat and smiled when the feline purred softly into her hand.
Emily gravitated forward. “May I touch her?”
Instead of replying to her, Ariadne looked to the lady for permission, which she gave with enthusiastic nods. “Gently now,” she instructed the girl, “Stroke her behind her ears and down her neck with light touches.”
Following her instruction, Emily gently petted the cat until the cat felt it was enough, got up, and stretched to where Ariadne saw the two front paws with five toes each. With a soft purr, the cat jumped off her lap and sashayed away with her tail up.
“How—” Emily looked to the door as the cat’s rump vanished around the door. “—how did you get her to come to you?”
“I didn’t,” Ariadne replied. “She came to me.”
“Really?” the girl sounded overawed.
“Truly,” she replied. “Do you girls want to have tea with us?”
“Is there cake?” Amelia asked.
Laughing, her mother said, “Yes, there is orange cake, your favorite. Please, take your seats, and I’ll make your tea.”
“What did you think you were doing?!” Cedric snapped the moment she and Emily set foot into the foyer.
