The next course was white fish with vegetables—also cold. The portion the footman gave Cordelia was little more than two bites. She’d have no difficulty tying her corset strings at this rate. She noticed the large portions he gave the gentlemen. Even Dowager Lady Farnham and Penelope’s servings were generous in comparison. Cordelia pushed the fish around on her plate with her fork. Even the servants thought that she was an interloper.
“Do you have fish in America?” the dowager asked.
Cordelia could only blink. Was her mother-in-law jesting? She looked at the woman incredulously, but there was no smile on her face. The ridiculous question had been sincere. This time she would respond more seriously. “Yes, we have many fish in America. There are two oceans and a great many lakes and rivers on the continent.”
The dowager nodded and took another bite of fish before asking her next question. “Do you have potatoes in America?”
Cordelia snorted, trying to keep in her laughter. It was as if the dowager thought that she was from a different world entirely, instead of a different country.
“Potatoes are actually from the Americas, my lady,” Mr. Hudson said with his friendly smile. “Sir Walter Raleigh introduced the vegetable to us.”
The dowager leaned her head to one side and practically squinted across the table. “Are you sure, Mr. Hudson?”
Before he could answer, Mr. Ryse patted her hand. “Yes, indeed, Blanche. Mr. Hudson is a great historical scholar.”
Her mother-in-law’s name was Blanche. How funny that Cordelia had never known it before. She wondered if she would be permitted to use it, or if she would have to call the woman “my lady” for the rest of her life.
The older woman shook her head. “I would never have believed it otherwise if not for your word, Mr. Hudson.”
“Mama, what sort of notion do you have of America?” Thomas said. “I have never heard such absurd questions in all my life. Everything we have here they have there.”
His mother shook her head. “Oh, I can’t believe that.”
Cordelia had to cover her mouth with her napkin to keep in her own mirth. Mr. Hudson let out a great bark of a laugh but was given a quelling look from his colleague, Mr. Ryse.
The rest of the dinner passed quickly. The footmen continued to serve Cordelia absurdly small portions of cold food so that by the end of the dinner, she was still hungry.
After dinner, she followed the ladies out of the dining room to a drafty sitting room, where coffee was set out. Cordelia did not wait to pour herself a cup. She didn’t even drink it but held it with her gloved hands, absorbing its warmth. There wasn’t a room in the entire abbey that was not drafty and cold. She sat on a threadbare chaise, as far away from her mother-in-law as she could. She doubted that she could keep her countenance if the woman continued to ask such ridiculous questions about America. She wasn’t sure if her mother-in-law was cunning or really as vague as she presented herself. As if Cordelia was something alien because she was from another continent.
Penelope poured a cup of coffee and delivered it to the dowager before getting her own glass. Cordelia wondered if she’d broken some sort of British protocol by obtaining her own cup. She decided she didn’t care and took a sip of the hot liquid. It needed sugar.
“I have been meaning to mention something to you, Cordelia,” Dowager Lady Farnham said. “There are two hundred British families whose names and titles you must memorize and always remember. We have a book of the peerage, and Penelope can assist you.”
Cordelia was tempted to say that in America there arefour hundredfamilies in society whose names you must always remember, but she didn’t. “I daresay that won’t be too difficult for me, since I passed the entrance examinations to Oxford University.”
“Really?!” her mother-in-law said incredulously. “Women attend university in America? How unorthodox.”
Cordelia didn’t point out that Oxford was in England. The college allowed ladies to study, not earn their degree.
Thomas and the other gentlemen entered the room just then. He sat down on the chaise next to Cordelia, but Penelope’s eyes looked hungrily at him. Jealousy, like bile, rose in her throat. She forced herself to swallow it down and smile.
“My dearest Penelope, will you play for us?” Dowager Lady Farnham asked.
Penelope assented and sat at the antique piano, which was out of tune. She played competently without playing well. She glanced at Thomas, who seemed to make a point ofnotlooking at Penelope. When her song was over, Cordelia clapped loudly, as did Mr. Hudson. She couldn’t help but wish thathewas their rector, instead of the relation, Mr. Ryse.
“What a perfect young lady you are, my dearest ward,” Dowager Lady Farnham said. “Such fine accomplishments.”
“And such irreproachable manners,” Mr. Ryse added, looking directly at Cordelia.
“It was a very pretty song,” Cordelia added politely.
“Very enjoyable,” Mr. Hudson said with his infectious smile as he rubbed his beard.
“Well done,” Thomas added, still not meeting Penelope’s eyes that seemed to be glued to his face.
“Cordelia, would you like to play next?” her mother-in-law asked.
She would very much like to play, but she didn’t want to overshadow Penelope’s performance. “No, thank you.”
