She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but before she could respond, my mother called to us from the doorway. “Come along, girls. I won’t wait any longer for Delia.”
We exchanged a look and followed my parents to the dining room. I could admit that my father, now on his feet, moved well enough, but it was still shocking to see how much slower he had become. In all of my mother’s letters, she had never mentioned anything about my father’s declining health. But she didn’t seem to see it very clearly herself, or want to—or perhaps I simply hadn’t prepared myself for the inevitable. Time certainly hadn’t stopped while I was away. Life moved on, quite quickly in fact. And I needed to catch up.
Chapter 2
Like the drawing room, the dining room also appeared to be frozen in time, from the heavy crimson curtains and massive silver candelabras down to the gold-embroidered table linen that had been a wedding gift from the queen. My grandmother had been one of the queen’s favorites at the time, and my mother greatly benefited from the association. Grandmother eventually fell out with Queen Victoria over her gambling debts, but my mother never failed to mention her association with royalty.
Our family had enough aristocratic roots to maintain good social standing, but my mother had only been born an honorable, while my father was descended from the second son of an earl. Lucky for him, the second son was good with numbers and unencumbered by a crumbling estate in Yorkshire, so he made a fortune speculating in railroads that only grew thanks to my father’s lucrative banking career. The Everlys of Portman Square might not boast any titles, but we did have a good bit of money, especially compared to our more blue-blooded relations.
And yet my mother began plotting Delia’s marriage to atitle while she was still in the cradle. But, to everyone’s surprise, Delia had eschewed a second London season in favor of attending the Slade School in Kensington. Since then, I had heard little talk of her marriage prospects.
As my mother deposited my father in his usual spot at the head of the table, I instantly moved to the second chair to his left—and nearly bumped into Dolly.
“Pardon me,” I blurted out.
“Entirely my fault,” Dolly said, though that was not at all the case. “Do you want to sit here?”
Before I could reply, my mother cut in: “Come beside me, Minerva,” she instructed as she moved to her seat.
I gave Dolly an apologetic look and hurried to the other end of the table, while my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Luckily, my mother excelled at ignoring faux pas and immediately instructed the footman to begin serving the soup.
I settled into the high-backed chair as the same footman who had taken my coat earlier now ladled a helping into my bowl. I murmured my thanks out of habit, and he hesitated in surprise for just a moment, but it was enough to draw my mother’s attention. As I caught her sharp look, I could hear her reprimand echoing in my head.
One does not thank the help for performing their duties.
I immediately turned my attention to the steaming consommé and picked up my spoon. This promised to be a very long meal.
A dull silence fell over the room as we began to eat. No one even attempted conversation. I cast a glance at Dolly, but she seemed perfectly content to sip her soup. Had meals always been like this? Surely not when Jack and Samuel were present, although they had often bickered in each other’s company, so perhaps this was preferable.
I decided to enjoy the silence, which was a rare commodityin my home, and had nearly finished my soup when the dining room door burst open behind me.
“Did youreallystart without me?”
My mother, who never put a foot wrong, no matter the situation, actually rolled her eyes in response. “Of course, we did, Delia,” she huffed.
That was nearly as shocking as my sister’s equally indignant response.
“But I told Morris I’d only be a moment,” she said as she marched fully into the room. “You could have waited.”
Delia hadn’t bothered to change for dinner and wore a plain grey muslin gown that bore several noticeable streaks of paint on the sleeves. I had forgotten how much she favored our mother, with dark blond hair that gleamed like polished brass in the gaslight. She was breathtaking.
My mother let out a weary sigh that sounded identical to the one I often made in response to my own headstrong daughter. And, for the first time in my life, I felt a bit of sympathy for her. “As I have explained many,manytimes, this household does not revolve around you.”
Delia looked primed to say quite a bit more in response to that, but then her blue eyes fell on me, and they widened with excitement. “Oh, Minnie! I’m very sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. It’s so easy to lose track of time when I’m in the studio.” Then she rushed over to my side. I barely had time to react before she wrapped me in a hug.
“I understand, Delia,” I said against her shoulder. She pulled back and gave me a long look.
“Aunt Agatha was right. You truly have blossomed.”
My cheeks heated again at the unexpected compliment, and I couldn’t help but look away from her assessing gaze.
“For God’s sake, Delia,” Father suddenly barked from the other end of the table with startling clarity. “Sit down. You’re interrupting the flow of the courses.”
Indeed, the footman hovered nervously by Delia’s empty seat, still holding the soup tureen.
Delia rolled her eyes and looked so much like our mother in that moment, that a laugh bubbled out of me. I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth, but we exchanged a knowing look.
