Chapter 10
As candles were lit and harpsichord music played on the sound system, guests began arriving at the tea shop. Wearing her ruffly white apron and poufy cap, Theodosia greeted them as she stood next to a very formal-looking, morning coat–wearing Drayton.
Brooke Carter Crockett, a local silversmith and owner of Hearts Desire Jewelry, arrived along with Leigh Carroll, the entrepreneurial Black owner of the Cabbage Patch Gift Shop next door.
Then a pack of regulars tumbled in that included Jill, Kristen, Allie, Judi, Lynda, and Jessica.
Angie Congdon from the Featherbed House B and B arrived with Aunty Libby, closely followed by the tornadic entry of Delaine Dish, who crowded in with them at one of the smaller tables.
They were followed by a tour group that was staying at the nearby Dove Cote Inn.
When all the guests had been seated, and a low conversational hum pulsed throughout the tea shop, Theodosia squared her shoulders and walked to the center of the room.
This was the part she loved best, but it was also the part that slightly unnerved her.
Because you never knew how a menu—or an event like this—would be received.
So Theodosia smiled, hoped that lady luck was smiling down on her, and said, “Welcome, dear guests, to the Indigo Tea Shop. We’re thrilled you could join us today for our Queen Victoria Tea.
” Her words, met by warm smiles and an encouraging spatter of applause, gave her the impetus to continue.
“As you may know, the Victorian Age coincided with the years that Queen Victoria ruled over Great Britain and the British Empire. And through the magic of time travel we have managed to bring you our own Queen Victoria. Your Majesty…” Theodosia waved a hand, signaling for Lucy to sweep into the tea room.
And when she did, head held high and dressed in full queen regalia, the guests let loose a number of surprised eeks and ahs.
Then they were on their feet applauding, many of the women trying to coax Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, to join them at their table.
Heartened by this outpouring of unbridled enthusiasm, Theodosia continued.
“As I was saying, the Victorian Age was a time of majesty, political and social reform, scientific development, and a new prosperity brought on by the Industrial Revolution. But it was also a time of great passion and romance. For example, in Victorian culture, flowers became the language of love. Tulips stood for passionate love, roses meant devotion, bluebells stood for kindness, and peonies meant bashfulness.” Theodosia held up a finger.
“But if someone gifted you flowers and you returned their gesture with a yellow carnation…sadly, it would express your disinterest or even disdain.” This last remark elicited a chorus of oohs from the crowd.
Knowing she’d piqued everyone’s interest, Theodosia went on.
“As you can see, we’ve decorated our tea tables with bouquets of Victorian favorites.
And because this is a special luncheon, we have a spectacular Victorian-inspired menu for you.
It all begins with gingerbread and raisin scones accompanied by lemon curd and clotted cream.
Our second course consists of soup shooters—baked potato and cheddar cheese soup served in small two-ounce shooter glasses.
And for our main course, we’ll bring out our three-tiered tea trays jam-packed with cucumber dill tea sandwiches, smoked salmon and cream cheese in mini tarts, and crab salad tea sandwiches on British cottage loaf bread.
When we eventually get to our dessert course you can look forward to strawberry tarts and mincemeat pie.
And our tea is…well, let’s ask Drayton Conneley, our tea expert, what he has in store for us. ”
That was Drayton’s cue to step smartly to the center of the room.
“The Victorians had a keen love of tea,” Drayton said.
“They sipped tea first thing in the morning, again at elevenses, at afternoon high tea, and as a warming drink in the evening. As a fitting tribute to Britain steadfastness in always being a tea nation, we shall be serving pots of English breakfast tea and cardamom tea. Of course, should anyone have a yen for another variety, just say the word and we’ll be happy to indulge your tea-loving tastebuds. ”
“And now,” Theodosia said, “lunch is served.”
That was the signal for Haley and Miss Dimple to bring out the gingerbread scones along with bowls of clotted cream and lemon curd. And of course, there were always a few questions for Theodosia to field.
“Should I slice my scone in half or cut it lengthwise?” one guest asked.
“Lengthwise,” Theodosia said. “And then break off small pieces and dab on your clotted cream and lemon curd.”
“So I should eat my scone with my fingers and not use a fork?” another guest asked.
“Exactly,” said Theodosia. “Fingers are proper etiquette.” She ghosted through the tea room then, making sure everyone was enjoying their scones and sipping their cups of tea.
Lucy’s Queen Victoria was a huge hit, and Theodosia was happy to see that Lucy was also making the rounds, speaking with the guests in a quasi-Renaissance fair, sort-of-British accent.
The soup shooters also proved to be a favorite, and more than a few guests looked as if they’d love a second serving. Except for the fact that the three-tiered tea trays were hustled out immediately and guests were suddenly snatching their tea sandwiches and tarts.
Drayton stayed busy at the front counter, brewing tea and passing fresh teapots to Miss Dimple, who made it her mission in life to keep everyone’s teacup full.
“I think our guests are loving this,” Theodosia said to Drayton when they both managed to take a breather.
“Your idea of having Lucy portray Queen Victoria was genius,” Drayton said. “And have you listened to her queenly spiel? It may be straight out of an episode of Masterpiece Theatre, but it’s a hit with our guests.”
“She’s an actress so she’s used to remembering a few lines and playing to an audience.”
“Bless her.”
When Theodosia managed to check on Aunt Libby, Angie, and Delaine, everyone seemed to be enjoying lunch except for Delaine.
“Dear,” Delaine said, grabbing Theodosia’s arm in a death grip, “is there any way you can hustle up a low-carb scone for me?” Delaine was fashion-model thin and always on the newest fad diet.
She claimed to eat clean, as she called it.
But, in reality, she lived on chocolate-covered peanuts and Diet Coke.
“I’m pretty sure this table was served the low-carb scones,” Theodosia said in all seriousness.
“Oh good.” Delaine released Theodosia’s arm, immediately going from pouting to pleased. “Thank you.”
Theodosia wandered back to one of the larger tables and said, “I should mention that all the antiques you see on our tables are for sale.”
“Do they belong to you? To your tea shop?” a woman asked.
“They’re all on loan from Mayfair Antiques over on King Street,” Theodosia said.
“I know the place,” another guest said. “The owner carries some lovely pieces.”
* * *
Forty minutes later, the strawberry tarts and mincemeat pie were served. Both desserts being sweet enough to put the guests into a sugar-induced stupor. Which was always good for business. Because then the guests got up, wandered around the tea shop, and shopped their little hearts out.
Today tins of tea and brass trivets seemed to be the favored purchases. But Theodosia also noticed that several guests grabbed bottles of Chamomile Calming Cream and Hibiscus Heaven Bath Oil, two pieces from her line of proprietary T-Bath products.
As guests eventually filtered up to the counter to pay their tab and have their purchases wrapped, Delaine buttonholed Theodosia just as she was putting out a few more tins of Drayton’s Plantation Days Tea.
“Theo,” Delaine hissed, “we need to talk.”
“Right,” Theodosia said. She had a good idea what was coming as she followed Delaine to her table.
“We need to know if you’ve started looking into things,” Delaine said as Aunt Libby and Angie Congdon leaned in and nodded their concern. “Specifically about Mrs. V’s murder.”
“I’ve made some progress,” Theodosia said. “As luck would have it—well, not exactly luck, more like happenstance—Payton Van Courtland crashed her way into the tea shop yesterday morning.”
“You mean the ex-daughter-in-law?” Aunt Libby cried.
“That’s the one,” Theodosia said. “The woman who was married to Brody.”
“Did she make a scene?” Angie asked.
“Tried to anyway,” Theodosia said.
“I’ve met Payton,” Delaine said, “and, know this, she’s a born troublemaker, the second coming of the Wicked Witch of the West. So, what exactly did she want?”
“Basically, Payton wanted to intimidate me,” Theodosia said, “by threatening to sue me over the death of her ex-mother-in-law.”
“This woman actually threatened you?” Aunt Libby clenched her hands together in a nervous gesture.
“Tried to,” Theodosia said. “But I didn’t let her get to me. I blew her off and told her to have a conversation with Detective Tidwell instead.”
“How did that go over?” Aunt Libby asked.
“Not well,” Theodosia said. “Turns out she’d already yelled at him, too.”
“Do you think Payton could have murdered Mrs. V?” Delaine blurted out in a hoarse whisper. “Was she the mysterious waiter at the Firefly Tea?”
“I really couldn’t say,” Theodosia said. “At this point it could be anyone who had a serious beef with Mrs. V.”
“Are there many people who were angry at her?” Aunt Libby asked.
“Not that I’ve found so far,” Theodosia said.
“So you’re basically nowhere in your investigation?” Delaine asked. She frowned. “I’d expected more.”
“There is more,” Theodosia said. “Thanks to Angie’s boyfriend, Gordon Twombley, I scored an invite to Mrs. Van Courtland’s house last night.”
“Gordon was tapped to appraise some of Mrs. V’s art,” Angie explained to Delaine and Aunt Libby.
“And?” Delaine tapped gilded red fingertips against the table.
“And then I was introduced to Birdie Huger, Mrs. V’s housekeeper,” Theodosia said. “As well as the son, Brody, and his girlfriend, Amber.”
Delaine didn’t look impressed. “So not much figured out. I mean as far as suspects go.”
“I’ve got a few other things cooking,” Theodosia said. She was thinking about Roger Birch, the real estate developer, as well as the kids at Honey Badger House. She still needed to investigate those possibilities.
“What can we do to help?” Aunt Libby asked.
“Just keep your eyes and ears open and let me know if you hear any weird rumors,” Theodosia said.
“We’ll sure try,” Angie said. She leaned back in her chair and shrugged.
“Not to radically change the subject,” Delaine said, “but I’m wondering if you-all have given any thought to your evening gowns for the Starry Starry Night Ball?”
“I’m all set,” Angie said.
“I’m afraid I’m not,” Theodosia confessed. “I’ve kind of had my hands full with—”
Delaine shook a finger at her. “Time to wake up and smell the prosecco, Miss Theo. Because you have three days to plan your wardrobe for a major black-tie ball!”
“I’ve been—”
“Procrastinating?” Delaine said.
“Actually, I was going to say busy,” Theodosia said, trying to keep her tone of voice and emotions in check.
Delaine could be maddening—in fact she truly was mad as a hatter—but a dress, any dress, wasn’t worth getting upset over.
“But I do plan to attend the ball,” she added as a slight appeasement.
“And you’ll be wearing…what?” Delaine asked. She was like a dog gnawing a bone; she wouldn’t let go.
Theodosia thought for a few moments. “I thought maybe a long skirt and—”
“No, no, no,” Delaine broke in. Always the self-appointed arbiter of high fashion, she said, “A skirt would be totally inappropriate. This event demands a proper ball gown.”
“And I’m guessing you probably have a few ball gowns in stock?” Theodosia said.
Delaine’s eyelids dropped ever so slightly.
“Please,” she said in a tone that clearly meant surely you jest. “We are up to our ears in the most fabulous gowns you could ever imagine. Matching wraps and stylish shoes, too.” Once again she shook a finger at Theodosia.
“You’d better drop by Cotton Duck first thing tomorrow morning.
I’ll do a quick pull of appropriate gowns for you to try on.
” Delaine glanced over at Aunt Libby. “In fact, I’d better pull gowns for both of you.
” Then, to Aunt Libby, “What are you, dear, a size four?”
Libby smiled. “A two.”
Delaine sat back in her chair and muttered, “Lord have mercy.”