to myself.
“Chizzy had his teeth whitened, you know,” Terrence burst in, cutting me off again, still preoccupied by his dislike for Jasper Roth’s London butler. “Makes him look like a Las Vegas hooker!” Whenever they had to work under the same roof, an electrified friction crackled between Terrence and Mr. Chisholm. They were both egotistical, high-status, gay, and middle-aged. It was unlikely that either of them would be playing the part of “underbutler” this Christmas weekend. More like a duel of the divas.
“The American’s my puppet,” Terrence continued, referring to Roth, “billionaire investment banker or not. I think we’ve proved that time and again. Mr. Chisholm, Mr. Schmisholm…that big old Mary’s no threat in my house,” Terrence said moodily. “I’ll kill or die to defend my territory.”
“My goodness, Terrence, you should be treading the boards with all that theatricality,” said Rose. “No one’s killing or dying on my watch.”
Rose’s son Isaac was seated at the far end of the table with a cup of milky tea and a plate of tiny mince pies.
“Hello, Isaac. How are you?” I asked. Just being near him calmed me.
“Well. I’m glad to see you, Miss,” Isaac said, beaming.
“Isaac, it’s Juliet. There’s no ‘Miss’ with me,” I told him, resisting the temptation to muss his goldy-blond hair. Even though Isaac is older than I am, his child-like simplicity invites those kinds of gestures. His hair was getting long – he had two modes of hairstyle: cropped extremely close to his head in a Caesar, or overgrown like it was now. Unintentionally, either one gave him the look of a surfer dude or rock star. His near-drowning as a child, when he fell through the ice on the estate’s pond, had left him…well, not exactly slow, but different. I’ve never had a psychological pigeon-hole to wedge him into, so I just accept him at face value as a pleasant and kind person who is very uncomplicated.
“Wait till you see the gingerbread house I made,” he said to me.
“It looks good enough to eat!” Daphne said. “But then a gingerbread house would, wouldn’t it? It’s food, I suppose.” She poured sugar into her cup of tea.
“It really is quite something,” Edward said, looking at me over the rim of his sherry glass, green eyes twinkling. “I couldn’t have made it.” He put his feet up on the empty chair across from him. That was kind of him to say. Edward had a real artistic bent and it showed in his ice sculpture, spun sugar construction, and cake decorating. When there was a wedding on the grounds, he pulled out all the stops.
“There’ll be time enough to see it later,” Rose said. “It’s quite a wonder, though…Isaac did all the design and embellishment. I just baked.”
“Where’s Jane?” I asked Isaac about his wife.
“Bed,” he said, gathering up several cookies and mince pies in a paper napkin and taking his teacup to the sink. “She’s sick so I’d better go home. G’night!” Isaac, said, his mouth full of pie. He rose and started out the pantry door.
“Make sure some of those mince pies get to your missus, Isaac! She didn’t get one from this batch. I hope her stomach’s not still delicate, poor lamb. And make sure she has a cup of tea or some broth before she goes to sleep…Sweet dreams, don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Rose called as a blast of cold air rushed into the cozy kitchen from the pantry leading to the garden and the servants’ housing, and the door swung closed behind Isaac. He’d be going to Stable Cottage, where he now lived. No one had ever expected Isaac to marry, and the whole staff had pitched in to fix it up when Isaac had married Jane and moved out of Rose Cottage.
I was aware of Edward’s stillness and his glances in my direction. Nervously, I groped for something to say. I suddenly felt so ugly and conspicuous. “I didn’t expect to see anyone. I thought I’d be heading straight to bed. I didn’t bother trying to look nice.” Now Edward was looking straight at me, listening hard. My face felt like it burst into flames, it was so hot. Shut up, Juliet. You’re babbling.
“You have a smile on your face, my dear, that’s all the adornment a young girl needs,” said Rose.
“That’s damning with faint praise,” I said, laughing, trying to be a sport about myself. It only made me feel more under the spotlight.
“I’d take the ‘young’ compliment and run with it, if I were you,” whispered Terrence loudly. He went back to chattering with Daphne.
I was hotly conscious of looking dull in Edward’s eyes. Suddenly, I just wanted to get out of there and go to bed. I stood up, knowing I should say a big goodnight and hoof it out of there. My feet wouldn’t move and I didn’t know what to do with my arms. I wound up leaning over the table with both fists planted, like I was about to filibuster. All eyes turned to me, magnifying my discomfort.
“Rose has got a point,” Edward said. He was very still. “You look beautiful.”
“Well, then thank you, Edward,” I said, turning my full body toward Rose and away from him. I couldn’t even look at him. “That’s very nice of you,” I said, twisting awkwardly to block out the whole view of my attractive colleague.
“I guess they say there are different levels of attractiveness,” my mouth continued, against my brain’s will. My voice sounded like a recording. Why won’t you stop talking? I screamed to myself. “There are visually attractive people and then interesting people,” I said. I couldn’t lift my fists off the table. Edward was listening to me with a small smile on his face, eyebrows raised. “People are striking internal responses,” I babbled, not entirely following what I was saying myself. Shut up, shut up! I told myself. You are losing control of your syntax.
“With status, like Mr. Roth, maybe in the scheme of things,” I barreled forward. My mouth kept forming words, and my brain seemed to be kicking back in a lounge chair, spectating. What was I trying to say? They all waited patiently for me to stop talking or to make some sense. Eventually, Terrence started making a “get on with it” rolling gesture with his hand, wineglass clutched death grip- style in the other.
“Mr. Roth is so…” Daphne finally piped in. She shook her head back and forth slowly, mouth hanging open. “Well, I mean he’s you know, sexier than like, the Earl’s mate from up the road. You know the one. That old bloke he hunts with, Lord Ambridge. Whatever. Know what I mean?”
After a pause, Terrence spoke up. “If you mean that even a burlap sack of oats is sexier than Lord Ambridge, then yes, I do know what you mean.”
Edward laughed a big, open laugh, eyes shining. Did he have to sit all splayed out, with his legs apart, looking so relaxed? I thought irritably.
“The Ambridges are coming to stay, you know,” Terrence said. “They’re on the list.”
“They are?” Daphne asked. “But they live a stone’s throw away.”
“Ah, the rich are different from you and me,” he replied. “Who can explain anything they do? Especially out back, behind the riding stables, if you follow me.”
“Right,” Daphne said, eyes darting. “I’d better get to bed. I have to stoke the fires first thing.” With that, she slipped from the table and disappeared up the stairs.
“Daffy indeed! Rose?” I asked.
“Well,
