Chapter Eleven #3
No one. Not this girl, not Berab’s children, not the man himself could take that away from her.
“Give her small amounts. It’s paramount that she doesn’t lose too much.” She wrapped the mixture in a small piece of parchment before handing it to Miss Teres.
“Thank you.” The girl slipped the package inside a fur-trimmed, sequined reticule.
“And thank you so much for your time,” she said as Rebecca led her back out of the kitchens, up the staircase, and through the hall to the entryway of the house.
“I’m so pleased that we were able to meet,” Miss Teres declared as they approached the threshold.
“Yes, it was lovely,” Rebecca told her.
Not a full lie. While there was something odd about the girl, the task, and more, the feeling of usefulness, was refreshing.
“Indeed,” Miss Teres returned, evidently noting Rebecca’s lack in enthusiasm and taking it for bad form. “I hope you’re enjoying your time in our part of the community,” she added, with clear emphasis on the “our.”
“I thought we were all one community?” Rebecca asked, narrowing her eyes. Her hackles were raised despite herself. “Does your family not socialize with the Strausses and Friedlands?” she couldn’t help but point out.
“We do,” Miss Teres acknowledged with a smoothness that belied little sincerity. “I apologize for my inelegance. I was just hoping that you’re experiencing a pleasant change of pace. Especially after all the excitement you endured.” She sympathetically clucked her tongue.
“I am,” Rebecca said slowly, now completely on edge.
“That’s good.” Miss Teres peered at her. “You and your mother live alone with a small group of servants, do you not?”
“We do,” Rebecca acknowledged, wrinkling her nose a touch at the question.
“Households with large staffs and families can be complex. Especially for someone not used to the same,” Miss Teres mused.
What was the girl about?
Or more, what sort of game was she playing?
Oy. Rebecca hated games. Even if it was just devised to make one participant feel superior at the other’s expense. Something she was quite used to.
Not that she couldn’t hold her own.
“Complexity is in the eye of the beholder,” Rebecca returned. “I often find the illusion of it is created by those who aren’t clever enough to fill their time with something more productive.”
Miss Teres’s smile widened but did not reach her large eyes, which had turned cold.
“Regardless, I’m sure you cannot wait to return to your own space,” the girl remarked. “When will that occur again?”
“In a few weeks, depending on how well I’m healing,” Rebecca told her. And not a moment too soon if being here means I have to deal with the likes of you.
Not that she could say that out loud.
“You should definitely get some rest then,” Miss Teres advised.
“You wouldn’t want to overtax your appendages.
The older you become, the longer it takes to heal.
Or so I’ve been told.” A rather triumphant smile settled over her dark pink lips.
As if she’d won something. What, it was hard to say, given that she probably believed she was already so far above Rebecca they would never be in competition.
What was she, eighteen, nineteen? Probably testing her own power.
Rebecca had experienced plenty of her type over the years. Usually ending with her opponent in tears and her being forced to insincerely apologize. A bit of a bother. Though it would be amusing here, given how annoying this girl had been so far.
“Is that what you find, as a woman of science?” Miss Teres asked, interrupting her thoughts, not a small amount of sarcasm in her tone.
“At times.” Rebecca shrugged. “Though occasionally, with certain maladies, a more experienced body fights illness more fruitfully than a younger one, which wastes resources with ineffective and unnecessary exertion,” she added, with a triumphant smile of her own.
And, for the first time, Miss Teres’s lips twisted into a pout, a cloud washing over her not-quite-as-pretty-as-they’d-seemed features, reminding Rebecca a touch of Fannie. So much so that she braced herself not for tears but for a tantrum.
However, unlike the resident of the home, Miss Teres managed to take hold of herself after a moment, a blank calm edging out the temper in her visage.
“Good to know,” she said before pausing, her dark eyes wide. “Oh,” she exclaimed.
“What is it?” Rebecca asked, gazing at the girl again.
“I believe I dropped my muff,” Miss Teres stated. “Would you be so kind to fetch Marguarite so she might find it for me?” she asked, her tone smooth, dismissive, and impressively imperious.
“I think these old legs can still handle that,” Rebecca returned. “Though you might have to wait a little, given how slow someone like me walks.”
“Patience is one of my greatest virtues.” Miss Teres’s lip curled wryly. “But thank you so much for all your assistance. Perhaps we’ll see each other again,” she called after Rebecca, as Rebecca hurried to grab Marguarite and be done with the matter and Miss Teres. Hopefully for good.