the three dinner settings already placed on the large oak table. She
glanced around the room. It was tastefully decorated in shades of blue and gold
and the drapes were still open, letting in the last rays of the sun. She
wondered if blue was also Mrs. Quinn's favorite color.
“There
you are,” Iris said.
The
voice startled Isabel, and she turned as her hostess walked into the room.
“Good evening, ma’am.”
“Hello,
Isabel. Will Georgette be joining us?”
“No,
I’m sorry, Mrs. Quinn. She is tired from our journey today and begs your
forgiveness.”
“Nothing
to forgive. I had hoped she would join us, but its best for her to rest and
regain her strength. Has she always been so frail?”
Isabel
nodded. “Yes, but she’s doing much better now. I think with some fresh air and
exercise, her health will continue to improve. She has made such strides in the
last four months.”
“Indeed.
She’ll need more stamina if she is to endure the Season. I have no doubt once
the ton see the both of you, there
will be plenty of invitations sent around.”
Isabel
eyes widened. “Do you think so?”
“Yes,
of course, my dear. Now come sit and let’s enjoy our dinner.”
“Who
do you think we should send invitations to?”
“It’s
hard to say, but I will tell you all about the ton when Georgette can next join us.”
“Mrs.
Quinn, I cannot thank you enough for hosting us. It’s a dream come true for me.
Who would have thought my life could have taken such a turn? Imagine me, here
in London. No one back in our village would believe I deserved to be here.”
Iris
chuckled. “Nonsense, of course you deserve to be here. Besides, it’s you and
your cousin who favor me with your presence. It’s been too long since I last
had guests. This big old house can get pretty lonely. You girls fill it with
light and laughter. I dare say that I’m looking forward to the Season myself
this year.”
As
the seven o’clock chimes filled the air, the maid began bringing in dish after
dish for their dinner. Isabel gaped at it all. She had never seen so much food
at once. When Mr. Condiff was alive, they were on strict rations. She’d always
thought it was because there was a lack of funds, but that had not been the
case. Mr. Condiff had been saving his money for her and Georgette. It made her
sad to think that he deprived himself of so much to secure their future.
“Isabel,
are you well, dear?”
Isabel
looked into Mrs. Quinn’s concerned face and gave her a weak smile. “Yes, I’m
fine. Was just thinking about Mr. Condiff, that’s all.”
“It’s
too bad he left us so early. He was a dear friend of mine. I miss him
especially now, because it’s been too many years since I last saw him. Now I’ll
never have that chance to visit again. How long did you live in his household?”
Mrs.
Quinn’s question caught her off-guard. Should she lie about how long she’d been
there? What did Mrs. Quinn know of Mr. Condiff? She tried to rack her brain to
see if she ever remembered Mrs. Quinn coming for a visit, but she was sure
she’d have remembered such a pleasant woman if she had. In the end, she thought
it best not to lie.
“I’ve
been in Mr. Condiff’s household since I was a small child. I don’t remember my
life before that.”
“Nothing
of your parents?” she asked, as she passed the potatoes.
Isabel
shook her head. “No, ma’am,” she said while piling her plate with food. Her
stomach growled in response to the mouth-watering aromas.
“How
sad for you, my dear, growing up never knowing your mother or father.”
Isabel
longed to tell her kind host that she had known her father, but she would not
break the confidence Mr. Condiff had tasked her with. “Mr. Condiff was a kind
man and, of course, I had Georgette. She seems almost like a sister to me.”
“I’m
sure she does. Let’s hope she’s refreshed in the morning, for we have an appointment
with Mrs. Phillips.”
“I’ve
never been to a modiste
glanced around the room. It was tastefully decorated in shades of blue and gold
and the drapes were still open, letting in the last rays of the sun. She
wondered if blue was also Mrs. Quinn's favorite color.
“There
you are,” Iris said.
The
voice startled Isabel, and she turned as her hostess walked into the room.
“Good evening, ma’am.”
“Hello,
Isabel. Will Georgette be joining us?”
“No,
I’m sorry, Mrs. Quinn. She is tired from our journey today and begs your
forgiveness.”
“Nothing
to forgive. I had hoped she would join us, but its best for her to rest and
regain her strength. Has she always been so frail?”
Isabel
nodded. “Yes, but she’s doing much better now. I think with some fresh air and
exercise, her health will continue to improve. She has made such strides in the
last four months.”
“Indeed.
She’ll need more stamina if she is to endure the Season. I have no doubt once
the ton see the both of you, there
will be plenty of invitations sent around.”
Isabel
eyes widened. “Do you think so?”
“Yes,
of course, my dear. Now come sit and let’s enjoy our dinner.”
“Who
do you think we should send invitations to?”
“It’s
hard to say, but I will tell you all about the ton when Georgette can next join us.”
“Mrs.
Quinn, I cannot thank you enough for hosting us. It’s a dream come true for me.
Who would have thought my life could have taken such a turn? Imagine me, here
in London. No one back in our village would believe I deserved to be here.”
Iris
chuckled. “Nonsense, of course you deserve to be here. Besides, it’s you and
your cousin who favor me with your presence. It’s been too long since I last
had guests. This big old house can get pretty lonely. You girls fill it with
light and laughter. I dare say that I’m looking forward to the Season myself
this year.”
As
the seven o’clock chimes filled the air, the maid began bringing in dish after
dish for their dinner. Isabel gaped at it all. She had never seen so much food
at once. When Mr. Condiff was alive, they were on strict rations. She’d always
thought it was because there was a lack of funds, but that had not been the
case. Mr. Condiff had been saving his money for her and Georgette. It made her
sad to think that he deprived himself of so much to secure their future.
“Isabel,
are you well, dear?”
Isabel
looked into Mrs. Quinn’s concerned face and gave her a weak smile. “Yes, I’m
fine. Was just thinking about Mr. Condiff, that’s all.”
“It’s
too bad he left us so early. He was a dear friend of mine. I miss him
especially now, because it’s been too many years since I last saw him. Now I’ll
never have that chance to visit again. How long did you live in his household?”
Mrs.
Quinn’s question caught her off-guard. Should she lie about how long she’d been
there? What did Mrs. Quinn know of Mr. Condiff? She tried to rack her brain to
see if she ever remembered Mrs. Quinn coming for a visit, but she was sure
she’d have remembered such a pleasant woman if she had. In the end, she thought
it best not to lie.
“I’ve
been in Mr. Condiff’s household since I was a small child. I don’t remember my
life before that.”
“Nothing
of your parents?” she asked, as she passed the potatoes.
Isabel
shook her head. “No, ma’am,” she said while piling her plate with food. Her
stomach growled in response to the mouth-watering aromas.
“How
sad for you, my dear, growing up never knowing your mother or father.”
Isabel
longed to tell her kind host that she had known her father, but she would not
break the confidence Mr. Condiff had tasked her with. “Mr. Condiff was a kind
man and, of course, I had Georgette. She seems almost like a sister to me.”
“I’m
sure she does. Let’s hope she’s refreshed in the morning, for we have an appointment
with Mrs. Phillips.”
“I’ve
never been to a modiste
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