Chapter 6 The Tea Tournament #3
“Whatever do you mean? You don’t suggest a fencing match at a tea party!” Marcella laughed nervously, exchanging a glance with Katrina, who was still glowering at Ambrosia across the table.
Estoria laughed. “Of course I do! Why not? We have plenty of room on the grounds, and the afternoon is still early. I’ll have my servants bring the foils and jackets out of storage. We can proceed within the hour!”
Marcella looked shocked.
Lady Verabon cooed to her daughter in a soothing voice, “Ambrosia, my sweet, I know you had strong feelings about the gold medal, but perhaps you should apologize to Katrina—”
“Mother—”
“Where’s the fun in that!” Estoria interrupted.
“Let’s settle this once and for all with an impromptu fencing tournament here in the gardens.
I love spontaneity!” She clapped her hands.
“Clear the tables! I’ll have my servants bring out the fencing gear.
Of course, it won’t be for a real gold medal .
. . but perhaps the winner can have some other prize? A shined cup from my personal set?”
“A ‘Teacup Tournament'?" one of the girls cried. “I love that idea!”
“This is very exciting!” a Bratzian twin agreed.
“Perhaps it will become a new trend!” Heather added.
“If it pleases Your Grace . . . .” Lady Marcella began, looking strained. “The girls are off-season . . . and their dresses are so pretty . . . I can’t imagine they would agree to a match.”
“Of course I would!” Katrina stood up from the table, her stiff skirts pushing back her chair. “I’ll be happy to remind Ambrosia why she lost the gold.”
“If that’s the case, then I’m sure Ambrosia would like to prove the referee wrong!” Lady Verabon scoffed, defending her daughter.
Ambrosia remained silent, a haughty arch to her eyebrows.
The Duchess Estoria clapped her hands. “Wonderful. This will certainly spice up the afternoon! Now, if you’ll follow me, I know just the place where we can hold a match. Roffolo, will you inform my husband about our change of plans? I don’t think he’ll want to miss this.”
A manservant in green livery bowed from the edge of the gazebo. Then he hurried off down one of the garden paths.
Heather stood up and linked arms with Katrina. They went to stand near Marcella at the end of the table.
The other young ladies didn’t move until Ambrosia Verabon set down her teacup. She smiled at Katrina. Celise didn’t think it was a friendly look, but amongst ladies, it was hard to tell.
“All in the spirit of good sportsmanship,” she said, as though the idea were hers all along. “Let us prepare for the match!”
Then all the young women set down their teacups and stood up from their chairs, chatting in excited voices and moving gracefully in their fine dresses.
The Blackwood staff came to clear the table.
The group began to separate as Ambrosia and her mother went to change into their fencing garb.
A few of Ambrosia’s closest friends left with her, but most of the ladies followed Her Grace Estoria Blackwood across the gardens to the new location for the Teacup Tournament.
A servant approached Marcella and Katrina and bowed low. “Please, if you will come with me, I will have you fitted for your fencing jacket and helm in our recreation hall. There will be servants to help you dress and prepare for the match.”
With a regal tilt to her head, Marcella blew past the servant like a flagship. Katrina and Heather were like two fishing boats in her wake.
Celise watched them walk away. She felt like the events of the afternoon were quickly spiraling out of control. She climbed to her feet and swayed for a moment, hovering at the edge of the empty table, unsure of what to do with herself.
No one looked back.
No one called for her.
She hesitated, wondering if Marcella would notice when she didn’t follow after them, but her stepmother did not turn back. It seemed she was . . . forgotten.
Celise waited in the shade of the gazebo, invisible, as her stepmother disappeared from sight.
She wondered if Marcella would remember her and send for her, but after several minutes, the table was cleared and she was left alone in the pavilion.
The servants filled up their trays and carts with used cups and empty dishes, then disappeared.
No one asked after her. No one glanced twice in her direction.
Somehow, she wasn’t surprised.
Celise took a breath of perfumed air and clutched her calico skirt in hand.
Should she join Lady Estoria and her entourage?
She didn't have a desire to watch Katrina's tournament. She had been on the receiving end of her sister’s foil several times. She would much rather explore the Gravenmere grounds.
Marcella had told her no wandering off.
Yet . . . her stepmother would be busy for the next hour or two with the Teacup Tournament. Would she notice if Celise took a little tour of Gravenmere by herself?
To her right, in the opposite direction of the tea tournament, a brick path led through a tangled cottage garden full of pink poppies, bachelor buttons and sunflowers. Celise didn't see anyone walking there. No ladies, gardeners or hired hands. Solitude at last.
It probably loops around to the Moongazer Tower, she reasoned. She could rejoin Dasha back at the tower after she stretched her legs.
Celise stepped out from between the white marble pillars of the gazebo. Like a little ghost, she started down the garden path, her slippers crunching softly on the packed dirt. With each step, the tension eased from her shoulders.
Finally, she could breathe.