Lady Bridget, the Viscountess of Harshford, stood by the grand doors of her drawing room with her trusted maid at her side, greeting every noble lady and their daughters as they arrived.
Everyone in Elaris knew that Lady Bridget's tea parties were the most sought-after events of the Season. The ladies came dressed in their finest silks and their daughters dolled up like little porcelain dolls.
Lady Bridget relished the power she had over women at her tea parties, but for her they weren't enough.
"Lady Bridget, it is so good to see you," Lady Clarissa said as she entered, her smile pleasant but tight.
Lady Bridget scoffed inwardly at the sight of lady Clarissa. This woman alone always put her efforts too shame and was the reason lasdy Bridget never felt satisfied.
"Indeed," Lady Bridget replied smoothly. "I'm glad you could attend, especially after all you've been going through."
Lady Clarissa froze for half a second, her smile stiffening. No one was supposed to know that things at her home weren't entirely perfect.
"I do not know what you are talking about," she said with a little laugh that sounded more like a warning.
Lady Clarissa then drew her daughter forward. "You remember my daughter, Sarah."
Lady Bridget gave the girl a once-over. "She looks young," she said, her tone sweet but her words sharp. Everyone knew that when Lady Bridget called someone "young," she meant that lady Clarissa looked old.
Lady Clarissa's lips twitched, but she said nothing more and swept past her with her chin raised. What did Lady Bridget have, after all, besides a sharp tongue and a pretty house? Clarissa was the one with the money and the title, she reminded herself of that quickly.
When Lady Bridget was done greeting the Duchess of Ashburrow, she turned to check her guest list. All the names had been ticked. All except one.
"Lady Bridget, you are being a terrible host just standing there and staring at your papers," Lady Clarissa said loudly, clearly wanting another round of trouble.
The other ladies giggled and murmured their agreement. It wasn't common for a hostess to stand away from her guests like this.
Lady Bridget's jaw clenched, but she kept her smile. "My guests are not yet complete," she said lightly.
Lady Clarissa let out a little laugh. "Have your viscountess duties made you so exhausted that you've become delusional, dear? Everyone invited is already here."
Lady Bridget's smile didn't falter. "Not everyone, Lady Clarissa. I am expecting the Marchioness of Windmere."
Thatt was enough to make the whole room gasp. Fans fluttered. Teacups nearly rattled.
"The Marchioness hasn't attended a single event in three years!" Lady Kendall said, her eyes wide. "What makes you think she'll come to yours?"
Before Lady Bridget could answer, the doorman appeared at the door and bowed.
"Marchioness Beatrice Sparrow of Windmere, and her daughter, Lady Lavender Sparrow of Windmere."
The room fell quiet. Every head turned.
Lady Beatrice entered gracefully, her posture calm and elegant. Beside her walked her daughter,little Lady Lavender, the one they whispered about, the Black Rose of Windmere.
"I heard she frightened off her governess," Lady Kendall whispered behind her fan.
"I heard she frightened all the governess' in Britannia," Lady Clarissa replied under her breath.
The Marchioness greeted the room with a polite smile, her eyes sweeping over the crowd, calm, dignified, unbothered. The marchioness had practiced hard at home for this tea party and she wasn't going to let herself or her daughter down.
Lady Bridget quickly composed herself and stepped forward with her most charming expression. "Marchioness! I am so glad you could attend. A few of the ladies," she said with a glance at Clarissa, "were certain you would decline."
Beatrice smiled softly. "We were delayed on the way, I'm afraid. It has been some time since we've appeared in public."
The marchioness' voice was light, friendly but it carried that quiet weight of someone used to being obeyed. The ladies all exchanged glances and smiled a little too quickly.
Lady Bridget's eyes then moved to the girl. "And this must be your daughter," she said. "How… unique."
Beatrice didn't flinch. "Of course she is."
Lavender curtsied neatly, her dark curls falling over her shoulder.
"Well then," Lady Bridget said after a pause, "I shall have my maid take her to the other children."
Lady Beatrice hesitated but then nodded gently. Lavender looked up at her mother, uncertain, but Beatrice gave her hand a little squeezed, a silent promise that she would be fine.
Reluctantly, Lavender followed the maid through the arched doorway, her lavender silk gown brushing softly against the polished floor.
The ladies watched her go, some curious, some pitying, and some, like Lady Clarissa, quietly sharpening their tongues for the gossip that would come after tea.