Beatrice lifted the porcelain cup to her lips without looking at the maid who served it.
The tea was fragrant — rose and saffron, sweetened with honey. She disliked milk teas; the cloying aftertaste lingered too long. Still, she couldn't deny Marchioness Hodgson's skill. The lady prided herself on refinement, and in her case, it wasn't an empty claim.
"Have you heard about the new salon on Dunswell Street, Lady Hodgson? It seems quite the fashion lately — even the Madam of Count Blackwood has been going. They say her skin has taken on the most youthful glow." The table fell silent, Lady Rosalia smiled and sipped her tea.
Beatrice almost snickered. She lowered her cup and reached out for a cookie. A few ladies started fanning themselves in the perfectly cool weather. It was apparent that Lady Rosalia was picking up a fight with the Marchioness.
"Word is that Count Blackwood insists it is as though he has met his bride again. He has been most indulgent of her wishes of late." It was widely known that the Marchioness had once shared a marriage full of passion, but lately there had been whispers that the Marquess Hodgson no longer burned as brightly — and that his warmth had found another hearth.
"It is curious how much value society places upon youth and beauty," the Marchioness smiled in Lady Rosalia's direction. "Though I do appreciate that Young Master Varnholt chose to look beyond it." The remark left Lady Rosalia stunned. She wasn't expecting the Marchioness to mention her fiance. She fanned her face, desperate to save her dignity. "It is quite hot, isn't it?" she said lightly, lifting her cup to her lips.
Beatrice was thoroughly enjoying the scene, because from where else would she be entertained this much? Every Lady sitting on this table had their own agenda of attending this tea party. Was it not amusing to watch them bear their teeth at each other under the pretense of gossip and compliments?
"Marchioness, I heard you will soon be hosting a banquet to celebrate Young Master Hodgson's return from the Academy. To have placed among the top ten of his cohort is no small distinction — you must be exceedingly proud to welcome him home." Beatrice finally spoke through the silence, her voice soft and elegant. The other ladies chimed in, waving off the previous awkwardness at the table. The Marchioness smiled delightfully at the mention of her son. Beatrice took this chance to dig for more information.
"Is it true that the new Viscount will be attending too?"
"The new Viscount? I heard that the profits from the newly found mine in Goldmere are nothing short of extraordinary. The quality of the mana stones mined from there are above second grade, a portion of them first grade even. Viscount Burdois is undeniably blessed by the Goddess Arkis."
"Has the Duke of Laurent also been invited?"
"Lady Montclair, did you attend the jewellery auction held in..."
The table became lively again. Beatrice stayed silent and listened for most of the part. There wasn't much to listen anyway, the women talked less about the banquet and more about the suitors that they were hoping to find. She suppressed a breath. None of the names she heard belonged to families supporting the Second Prince. They either belonged to the Neutral faction or to the First Prince's faction. Marchioness herself maintained neutrality.
Beatrice stood up, excusing herself to find a powder room. She was led inside the manor by a maid. As soon as she found herself alone, she exhaled audibly. She had attended the tea party to find if Earl Everleigh would be present at the banquet or not and yet there was no talk of him! Should she mention him? No. Everybody would come to know that she was seeking him out to support her unstable position in her own household! Worse, they would pity her for losing her parents in such an unfortunate accident.
Beatrice took two deep breaths and went out to the party again. There wasn't much that she had missed on. The party was almost over and the ladies had begun to disperse. She purposefully walked to the Marchioness with a pleasant smile on her face.
"Marchioness, thank you for inviting me to the party. I thoroughly enjoyed it." The Marchioness looked at Beatrice softly, her eyes betraying the pity that she felt for the young lady who lost her parents not too long ago, "Miss Cornwell, it was a pleasure to have you here. I hope you are finding comfort in these difficult times." Beatrice, however, did not like to be pitied. But she couldn't miss the chance that had presented itself.
Lowering her gaze, a quiet breath left her lips, "I am managing myself quite well, Marchioness. It is all because of the support that everyone has shown me." Beatrice lifted her eyes, and the Marchioness couldn't help but feel sorry for the sadness that was present in the young lady's eyes. Beatrice paused, as if hesitant to say something.
"Marchioness, I...It hasn't been long since my parents passed away...I just wished to talk to someone, that's all. My brother has been mourning since and I feel so...inept at comforting him. I wished Earl Everleigh would visit him once, he'd be sure to listen to him." Beatrice allowed her words to trail off, "The Earl has been away for business, I do understand his situation but..."
Marchioness, overcome with sympathy, took Beatrice's hand in hers, "Miss Cornwell, you mustn't worry so much, it will affect your health. Also, I can help you with the Earl. I have already sent him an invitation to the banquet. He'd replied that he would be present there. I know how close the Earl and your parents were. It was unfortunate for him as well since he couldn't attend the funeral because his presence was required mandatorily at the Summit held in Ezenberg."
Beatrice nodded, her eyes glistening. She slightly squeezed Marchioness' hand in gratitude. "Thank you for telling me this, Marchioness. My heart feels a bit lighter now that I know I would be able to talk to the Earl." The Marchioness smiled softly, "It is alright, Miss Cornwell, please take care."
---
On her way back to Cornwell Manor, Beatrice gazed out from the carriage window. The pitiful shine in her eyes had long since vanished, replaced by a faint glint of satisfaction. Who would have thought tears could come so easily to her? She had once despised the ladies who wept at the smallest inconvenience; never had she imagined how useful such weakness might prove.
She relaxed onto the seat, and closed her eyes. Today had gone well. It would make her brother's triumph easier to endure.