Harry’s mother, Leah—the Lady Creassey—always waited to have afternoon tea until Harry and Maria were present. It was a family tradition that had been observed ever since her husband had passed away five years ago. But while Maria was always punctual, Harry was often late or did not show at all—his excuse being, that the duties of managing the estate would not often yield to his mother’s rigid schedule.
Maria was just a few years younger than her brother, with the same coloring and familial features. It was clear they were brother and sister. But she had a beauty that was delicate and pleasing, even though she worked hard at co-managing their estate. Thinking this was one of the afternoons when Harry would not be present for tea, Maria had just poured her mother’s tea and was handing her the cup when the parlor door opened.
“Mother, as you can see I made it this afternoon,” Harry announced, as he came into the yellow parlor, favored by his mother for tea service.
“We have some particularly lovely cucumber sandwiches, just the way you like them, Harry,” his mother said. “Come sit with us.” She then looked at her son’s boots. “And you are tracking mud all over our lovely Persian carpet. Do try to be more careful.”
“Sorry Mother,” he said going to the fireplace and knocking his boots against the dormant fire grate.
“Percy sends you both a greeting, and you Maria, a kiss,” Harry said with a teasing smile to his sister.
“Cheeky devil,” Maria said, blushing slightly, as she poured the tea.
Harry went to sit at the tea table and shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap as Maria handed him his cup and a small plate of cucumber sandwiches.
Lady Leah Creassey was a severe looking woman. Perhaps she had been beautiful at one point in her life, but she was now an invalid. She had been injured in the same accident that had killed her husband, when their carriage tipped over on a narrow road and tumbled into a ravine.
She wore her graying hair tight around her face and pulled back into a bun at the back of her head. Leah always wore black, sat stoically upright in her wheelchair, and was always in pain.
“Dear Brother, have any of the pregnant cows calved yet?” Maria asked. “I know you were expecting the first birth this morning.”
“Actually, the first came last night and Daniels discovered the calf this morning when he was putting out the feed.”
“And it is all right?”
“It is. Healthy and suckling.”
“How many more are there waiting to give birth?” Mother asked.
“We actually have two-and-thirty this year,” Harry answered. “Five more than last year.”
“I am so happy we do not slaughter our cattle. It is so much better to raise breeding cattle.” Maria said, pouring another cup of tea for her mother.
“And raising prize winning Kerry cattle is a great deal more profitable, as well. We will be showing again at the Winchester fair this year. It has been so profitable for us the past three years.”
“Did you catch your supper?” Maria asked. “Cook was asking as I was passing through the kitchen.”
“I did.” He turned to his mother. “I have a nice fat one for you, Mother.”
She smiled tightly. “Lemons are so difficult to come by in Wiltshire, how will it be served?”
“I can ask cook to do a nice béarnaise sauce using white wine vinegar instead of lemon,” Maria said.
“That will do.”
The butler, Daniels, appeared with a pot of hot water. “Refresh your teapot Miss Buxton?” he asked Maria.
“More tea, anyone?” Maria asked. No one responded. “I think we are done, Daniels.”
“Lady Buxton, are you ready to be taken to your rooms for your nap?” Daniels asked.
Leah sighed. “If you would, please.”
“Carter is standing by and will assist you.”
“Thank you.”
Nurse Carter came into the parlor, adjusted Leah’s lap rug, and wheeled her out of the room.
