A Murder at Rosamund's Gate - By Susanna Calkins Page 0,10

ready supper. The Embrys have been invited to dine.”

Already out of sorts because of her tiff with Bessie, Lucy felt her mood sink even lower knowing the Embrys would be joining the family for supper. When Lord Embry and his friends had visited before, they’d spent most of the evening drinking the magistrate’s finest madeira, with no care to depleting his stores. She’d also spent most of the evening fending off their roving eyes and hands in the corridors; when out of sight of the Hargraves, they’d try to catch her unaware.

Their noble status notwithstanding, Lucy wondered what the magistrate saw in the Embrys. Lord Embry did not seem clever or interesting, and indeed often said things that she could see made the magistrate flinch. To her surprise, Mistress Hargrave asked her to bring out the best pewter goblets and plates and the real silver emblazoned with the family’s mark.

She understood later, though, when she overheard a whispered conversation between the mistress and Sarah. “Lord Embry is bringing his wife and daughter,” the mistress said. “Your father is hoping that Adam will get on with Lady Judith.” She pressed her hand to her forehead, sounding ever so slightly puzzled. “I suppose since her father is so important in the House of Lords.”

Ah, that’s it, Lucy thought. They are hoping a match with the Embrys’ daughter will help advance Adam’s career. Such arrangements were customary among the gentry, of course, but she could not help but curl her lip for a man who would make a match for such reasons.

Although nervous of grasping fingers, Lucy quickly realized that Lord Embry was all courtesy and good manners before his wife and daughter. As she filled goblets and plates, Lucy studied the Embrys under her lashes.

Lady Embry was crisp and polite, sitting straight-backed in her chair. Judith was lovely, her blond hair pulled on top of her head, revealing fine, if icy, features. Her teeth were even but overlarge, Lucy thought, somewhat crossly. She did not like how mother and daughter looked about in a calculating way. When they thought no one was watching, they seemed to be appraising the magistrate’s furniture, the flagons on the table, the tiny silver spoons. Throughout supper, Sarah twisted the linen in her lap, obviously disconcerted by the elegance of the Embrys, and the mistress kept a distant smile on her face, inclining her head courteously to Lady Embry. Lucas chatted amiably enough with Judith while Adam spoke with his father and Lord Embry.

When the company moved to the drawing room, Sarah tried to engage Judith, but Judith seemed more interested in talking brightly to Adam. “This is lovely wine,” Judith said, looking meaningfully at the jug in Lucy’s hand.

“Oh, let me fill that for you,” Lucy said, moving across the room. In her haste, a bit of wine sloshed onto Judith’s silk dress.

“Stupid!” Judith exclaimed, jerking back in her chair. “Look what you’ve done!”

“Oh, miss, I’m so sorry!” Lucy stammered, her face red. She looked about for a bit of linen to dab at Judith’s dress.

“I should say you are,” Judith said, smoothing her skirts, conscious that the men had stopped talking. To Mistress Hargrave she said, “Your servant has spilled the wine. In our household, she’d be discharged for such sloppiness. So uncommon is it for us, I daresay it surprises us when we come upon it elsewhere.”

“Yes, my dear,” Lady Embry purred, with a quick glance at her daughter, “but we should not expect servants to be so well trained as ours. We get ours early on indeed, sometimes as young as nine or ten, and train them from the start. This way, they know how to handle themselves in the presence of their betters. A few were even from the palace, where such happenstance is unheard of.”

Lucy looked down, her cheeks burning.

Master Hargrave coughed slightly. “Indeed,” he said, smiling at Lucy. “Such accidents are rare here, too. In any case, we should not like to sack a lass like Lucy, for such loyal and trustworthy servants are worth far more than the trouble a few drops of wine can bring.”

“Moreover,” his wife put in, “I know how to take that stain out.” Mistress Hargrave then dabbed a clean piece of linen into her goblet before carefully rubbing at the stain on Judith’s dress. As if she had performed an act of sorcery, the stain disappeared. “See, the white Rhenish wine takes out the red straight away.” She laid the linen on the table.