Ghosts of Albion: Accursed by Amber Benson; Christopher Golden

Author:Amber Benson; Christopher Golden
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 0345486072
Published: 2005-09-30T21:00:00+00:00

I N HER ROOMS at Woburn Abbey, the duchess of Bedford fussed over preparations for afternoon tea. She had sent invitations around to a good many of the wives of the members of Parliament, and the ladies were to arrive for tea at five o'clock precisely. There were hours to go, but already Anna Wickham was at her wit's end.

"What have you done to me, Petersham? What, indeed?"

Petersham was the handsome young man her husband, the duke of Bedford and marquis of Tavistock, had engaged only two weeks earlier, after the passing of their previous man. Now the butler dropped his gaze to the floor. His features were etched with remorse, and when he spoke, he seemed properly chastised.

"I beg your pardon, madam. I cannot fathom how such a thing might have occurred."

So despondent did he seem that the duchess was tempted to forgive him. But when she thought of the guests who were due to arrive in less than four hours, her ire was further stoked.

"My brother, the viscount Stanhope, is an aficionado of teas, Petersham. One might even call him an expert. His wife is going to be among the ladies in attendance this afternoon. Don't you think she will know if we promised her China tea, only to serve her India tea, or China for India? Perhaps I cannot tell the difference, even if the kitchen was to brew me a pot of each and I consumed them in their entirety. But that's not my concern, is it? How could you have allowed the two to become confused?"

Petersham hesitated, then ventured forth.

"I'm told the tea caddy is meant to keep them separate, but with my predecessor's . . . departure, no one can recall whether it was China on the right and India on the left, or India on the--"

The duchess threw up her hands. "Enough! Sort it out, Petersham. I don't care how you do it. I don't care if you have to send to Calcutta and Shanghai this very moment for more, so long as by five o'clock we are able to confidently tell our guests which varieties of tea they are being offered."

They stood on the landing of the second floor. The duchess knew that other servants would undoubtedly be listening, hungry for fuel that would feed their gossip and set their tongues wagging. But she did not care a whit.

"I shall attend to it, madam."

"See that you do. And will you please take the cook aside, and remind him that the crumpets should be slightly underdone. It's the only way to avoid having them burned. The man simply cannot--"

At that she stopped. She hadn't yet run out of vituperative energy, but she was distracted by voices from below.

Anna frowned and moved away from Petersham, descending several steps toward the first floor. She paused when two men came into view, one of them the duke's personal secretary, Richard Mills. The other was unknown to her, but by his attire she saw that he was a clergyman.

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