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 a title 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 commodity in my home, and had nearly finished my soup when the dining room door burst open behind me.
“Did you really start 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, many times, 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.
“We’ll have a proper catch-up later,” she whispered. Then she marched around the table with her head held high, as regal as a queen.
“Don’t worry about that, Cartwright,” she said with a grand wave of her hand. “Bring out the next course.” The footman gave a little bow of relief and scurried out of the room.
“Sorry, Father,” Delia said as she smoothly took her seat.
He grumbled in response, but the presence of my sister had lightened the atmosphere considerably.
The rest of the meal passed in a flash, as Delia asked about our journey and how the children were settling in.
She even offered a few suggestions for things Tommy might like to see while we were visiting.
Dolly chimed in every now and then as well, but my parents remained noticeably silent for the remainder of the meal.
When dessert was finally brought out, I was delighted to see that it was apple charlotte.
“My favorite! I didn’t think you remembered,” I said to my mother.
She gave me a blank look. “I didn’t. Cook planned the menu. She must have done it since you were coming.”
Delia let out an indelicate snort into her water glass. “Leave it to Cook to know Minnie better than you.”
“Please send my regards to the kitchen,” I said brightly to the footman, hoping to dispel another confrontation between my mother and sister, who were now staring daggers at one another.
The footman bobbed his head and rushed out of the room as soon as the charlotte was served. For a fleeting moment, I very much wished I could have joined him, but consoled myself with a bite of cake. It was just as good as I remembered.
Luckily, the dessert captured everyone’s attention, and for a few blessed minutes, silence prevailed once more until we finished.
“Shall we all move to the parlor,” my mother began, before fixing her eyes on Delia. “Or do you have some scandalous party you can’t bear to miss?”
Delia calmly dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “Not tonight, Mother. I want to visit with my sister. But don’t worry. There is something on for tomorrow.”
Mother made a hum of disapproval in response and rose from her chair. From across the table, Delia caught my eye and winked. She really was quite cheeky. And while I could certainly sympathize with our mother to an extent, I found myself smiling back at her.
As we entered the parlor, I braced myself for another long stretch of silence, but to my surprise—and, frankly, relief—the children were waiting for us.
Tommy was seated on the carpet by the hearth, playing a game of checkers with a girl about his own age, who must be Dolly’s daughter, Franny, and right beside him was John.
I couldn’t help smiling as Tommy patiently explained the rules to his cousins.
“Thank God they’re here,” Delia murmured beside me.
I gave my sister a sympathetic smile, but before I could respond, the children took notice of us, and Tommy scrambled to his feet. “Mama! I have cousins!” he exclaimed in delight as he ran over to me.
“Yes, darling, I know. And this is your aunt Delia, my sister.”
He stared at her in fascination. “Are you older or younger?”
“Tommy!” I chastised, just as Delia burst out laughing.
“Younger. Much younger,” she added.
But Tommy remained quite serious. “Was my mother a good older sister?”
The question took me by surprise.
“Yes,” Delia answered immediately. “The very best.”
Tommy bowed his head. “My sister, Cleo, says I’m annoying.”
“Well, do you perhaps do things to annoy her on purpose?” Delia asked.
The corner of his mouth lifted in an impish smile. “Sometimes,” he admitted.
She gave him a knowing look. “Then you can’t really blame her, can you?”
“I suppose not,” Tommy said, with a shrug. Then he turned back to Franny and John.
“Come and meet my mother,” he beckoned.
The children had been watching us closely but hadn’t moved from their place on the hearth. They seemed far more reserved than my son. But at Tommy’s invitation, they joined us.
“Hello. I’m Frances, and this is my youngest brother, John,” Franny said with surprising formality.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” I replied.
“My father says you live in Greece,” she continued.
“Yes. We’re here for a visit.”
“He also said you went to Cambridge.”
“I did. To Girton.”
“Father thinks sending girls to university is a waste of time,” Franny said. “That it fills their heads with nothing but nonsense when they should be thinking about finding a husband and—”
“That is quite enough, my dear,” Dolly said as she rushed over and shot me a nervous smile.
“Well, your father is wrong, Franny,” Delia replied. “And despite what he says, that is a frequent occurrence for him.”
Franny’s eyes went wide.
“Oh, look! The tea cart is here,” Dolly cut in. “Let’s see if they have those shortbreads you like.” She then quickly ushered her children away.
“May I have a shortbread?” Tommy asked me.
“Of course.”