Chapter 5: Seven Ladies at Tea

The invitation came on cream paper with a gold seal.

Lady Rosalind Dacre and the ladies of the list requested the pleasure of Miss Valera's company at tea.

"It's a trap," Pip said.

"Obviously."

"So you won't go."

"I'm going," I said. "If I hide in the kitchen now, they win."

I put on the sky-blue gown and tucked a lemon tart in a napkin for courage.

Then I walked into the west tea room alone.

Seven women sat around a round table laid with silver.

They all went quiet.

"Miss Valera," Rosalind said. "How brave. Do sit."

There was a chair for me, a small gilt chair with arms that curved in tight.

I looked at Rosalind, who looked back with sweet, empty eyes.

"I'll stand," I said. "Thank you."

"You must be tired."

"I've been on my feet since I was eleven. I'm very good at it."

A lady with a lace collar slid a plate toward me.

It held one tiny cucumber sandwich.

"We thought you'd want to be careful," she said. "A palace dinner is so rich."

"And a girl does need to think about what's next."

"What's next?" I said.

"Well. When the prince tires of you."

The room went very still.

I knew what they wanted.

They wanted me to cry, or to run, or to say something stupid they could repeat to the Chancellor.

I took the tart out of my napkin.

I bit into it, chewed slowly, and swallowed.

"This is what he tires of," I said. "Come and see for yourselves. He's had one every Friday for a year."

"We don't eat kitchen food," Rosalind said.

"No. You eat cucumber and you wait for someone to hand you a husband."

A cup rattled in a saucer.

"You're a pastry girl with a loud mouth," Rosalind said, her voice shaking now.

"A fat little commoner who got lucky for one night."

The word hit me.

I'd been called worse, in the river market and in the school yard.

But it hit.