After Ruby and I attended that rather unsuccessful tea party at Countess Rowan’s house, I couldn’t get what had happened out of my head for a long ti.
The event, which I had hoped would be a pleasant and useful introduction for Ruby, turned out quite differently than I had hoped. The girl felt uncomfortable and constrained there.
All this left an unpleasant aftertaste — both for her and for . I felt a sense of failure, as if I had let her down by failing to create the atmosphere of ease and security that she so desperately needed.
However, I couldn’t just accept it.
Yes, the first attempt to establish Ruby’s relationship with her peers had failed, but that didn’t an we should give up. I understood perfectly well how important socialization was for a child, especially when it ca to the heiress of a noble family.
Whatever her own attitude toward such things might be now, in the future Ruby would inevitably have to beco part of high society, learn to carry herself with dignity, carry on a conversation, and find common ground with people of different characters.
However, this is where the problem arose. How could I help her fit in with her peers without making her feel awkward and uncomfortable?
I needed to find a way to allow Ruby to et other children in a more favorable environnt — one that was calm, safe, and, most importantly, comfortable for her.
After returning ho from the ill-fated tea party, I reviewed all the invitations to various social events that had co my way recently. Balls, formal dinners, gatherings — none of them seed suitable. There would be too many strangers at each of these events, and Ruby would surely feel uncomfortable again.
I sighed. So what to do? How could I solve this problem?
I was sitting in my office, sorting through the invitation envelopes, when suddenly the idea popped into my head — simple, but, as it seed to , quite reasonable.
What if I organized my own event?
I could host a small reception at our house, inviting only those children from noble families whom I considered worthy and pleasant to be around.
That way, Ruby would feel much more confident — after all, she would be in familiar surroundings, close to and our servants. In addition, I would be able to personally supervise the eting to prevent a repeat of the incident that occurred at Countess Rowan’s house.
The more I thought about this idea, the more reasonable it seed.
After all, it is in a ho environnt that a child is able to express themselves more naturally, without unnecessary tension. I could take care of everything — refreshnts, gas, even entertainnt — so that the children would have an interesting and enjoyable ti together.
So, after thinking everything through to the smallest detail, I ca to the conclusion that this was probably the best solution.
I was about to call Edison, a man who, like no other, knew how to approach any task responsibly. I wanted to ask him to make a list of children who should be invited. Of course, I was only talking about those whose families had an impeccable reputation and knew how to behave properly. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of the recent awkwardness.
But before I even had a chance to ring the bell, the door to my office opened slightly, and Edward Edison himself appeared on the threshold as if by magic.
"Madam," he said in his usual calm, slightly muffled voice, "you have a letter."
"A letter?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
He bowed respectfully and ca closer, handing an envelope on a silver tray.
I took it chanically, but as soon as my eyes fell on the wax seal, my heart sank. The recognizable coat of arms with a griffin left no doubt.
It was a letter from the Dickens estate.
Great.
A mixture of fatigue and irritation involuntarily appeared on my face.
To be honest, Roger was the last person I wanted to deal with right now. After recent events, I had no desire whatsoever to interact with him in any way.
Nevertheless, it seed that I had no other choice. I sighed quietly, carefully tore open the envelope, and took out a folded sheet of thick paper. His neat handwriting imdiately caught my eye.
"Lady Weinstein,
I hope you have not forgotten about our lesson.
If your circumstances allow, I would be most grateful
if you could find the ti to visit the estate this Saturday.
Sincerely yours,
Roger Dickens."
I reread these lines several tis, as if hoping that the content would change if I looked at them again. But, alas.
My expression probably beca even gloomier than before.
No, damn it, a trip to the Dickens estate and a eting with Roger were the last things I wanted right now. Thoughts of the upcoming visit only made angry. It seed to that any communication with him after the recent incident would be like walking on thin ice that could break at any mont.
And yet, despite my inner protest, I understood perfectly well that the ga would not allow to ignore it anyway. It was a situation in which I had no choice from the very beginning.
I exhaled heavily, feeling irritation mixed with resignation rising up inside .
"Is sothing wrong, ma’am?" Edison asked, noticing my expression.
I looked up at him, trying to hide my growing irritation behind a mask of serenity.
"Um... No, nothing."
I just sighed again.
"Thank you, Edison," I said quietly, folding the letter and placing it on the edge of the table.
The butler bowed respectfully, glanced at the letter, and, without asking any more questions, headed for the door. When the door closed silently behind him, the room beca especially quiet.
I was left alone with my thoughts and that ill-fated envelope lying on the edge of the table. For a while, I just sat there staring at it, my thoughts far from comforting.
In the end, all I could do was grit my teeth and accept the inevitable.
***
Even though it was not at all what I wanted, this Saturday I still had to go to the Dickens estate — for the very lesson that Roger ntioned in his letter.
I had been feeling uneasy since early morning. As soon as the carriage left the courtyard, I felt that sa heavy foreboding that usually ca over when the day promised to be difficult.
The landscape slowly floated by outside the window — fields, sparse trees grayed by the autumn wind, and distant silhouettes of buildings. I tried to distract myself by focusing on thoughts of Ruby’s upcoming event, but as soon as I imagined our upcoming eting with Roger, my mood soured again.
It seed that fate had decided to test my patience once more.
When the carriage wheels finally stopped at the front entrance of the Dickens estate, I took a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts.
The estate was as impressive as ever — a majestic facade of light stone, massive columns, and a long staircase leading to tall oak doors. Everything here exuded ancient dignity and cold respectability.
The carriage had barely co to a stop when the door swung open and Roger himself approached.
"Lady Weinstein," he said with his usual courtesy, "I’m glad you’ve co."
The young man looked impeccable as always: his scarlet hair, slightly tousled by the wind, emphasized his fair skin and clear blue eyes. He gallantly offered his hand, and although everything in protested, I had to accept it.
I nodded reservedly and, touching his hand with just my fingertips, stepped down from the footboard.
"Sir Roger," I began after a short pause, trying to speak calmly, "is His Lordship at ho?"
He shook his head slightly.
"No, my father has gone away on business. He will probably not be back until evening."
"Oh, I see..." I exhaled involuntarily.
Perfect. So we’ll be spending the whole day here, just the two of us.
I sighed heavily, trying not to let it show too much. For a mont, I even considered asking the coachman to turn the carriage around imdiately, but alas, it was too late.
Roger, noticing my hesitation, smiled slightly, and that barely perceptible curve of his lips only intensified my inner feeling of hopelessness. No, I really didn’t like it when this guy kept smiling at .
He made a slight gesture with his hand, inviting to follow him.
"Please, lady," he said with deliberate politeness, stepping toward the entrance.
The marble steps felt cold under my heels, and the air around seed to thicken. The gate behind slowly closed, and I felt as if my last path to freedom had finally slamd shut.
"Well," I thought, trying to keep my face calm, "since I’m here, all that’s left is to get through this day... and hope that it ends as soon as possible."
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