Celia laughed weakly. “Peculiar location for a tea party, is it not?” It was not just using a private room for guests, at the wrong time of day, but there was something different in the way the women were waiting. The room felt impatient and excited.
Charlotte gestured to Marianne. “It’s her party.”
“Oh no.” Marianne laughed, clearly pleased with herself. “I just sent the invitations.”
“It’s not a party.” Henrietta was sitting back in her chair, the only one who was not smiling at all. “It’s an intercession.”
That was the other strange thing. Just a couple weeks ago, Rose had said something clever and cutting about little sisters tagging along even when they were taller than the big sisters, and Henrietta had retorted that she had plenty of friends andRose could keep Charlotte to her lonely self. Now they were sitting in perfect accord.
“It’s a council of war,” Marianne clarified, pleased with herself.
Celia winced.
Charlotte touched Celia’s hand. “We are under siege, and our usual defenses are unequal to the task.”
“Surely, it’s not as bad as all that! Are you well, Charlotte?” Celia hated fighting.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “I am quite fine. I love my husband, who takes excellent care of me. But please, Celia, tell us about your drive with Lord Edmund.”
Celia stared at her lap, eyes prickling with tears. She was just so tired!
“Lord Dead-mund,” Rose muttered. “I wish! But we’re not that kind of war council, I suppose.”
“Oh, Rose!” Celia burst out laughing. “Your fan turned into a rapier, and your book for a shield! En garde!”
Rose posed, leaning into the jest, and they all laughed.
“As I was saying, I nominate Henrietta for our general,” Charlotte said. “All these years, we have just been sitting on the sidelines complaining about how much we hate balls, but Henrietta—? She had a plan.”
“Second!” cried Marianne, with rather too much enthusiasm.
Henrietta glanced around, making sure there was no argument. Her spine straightened slowly.
“Madam General, please instruct us on the order of business.” Charlotte smiled encouragement. “Is there a writing box for her?”
“I can get that.” Marianne sprang to her feet. “Or shall we elect a secretary, too?”
“I can write as I talk,” Henrietta said quickly. “We don’t need too much clutter of officials, we need to get to work. Firstorder of business is to evict the slimy Lord Edmund before Celia convinces herself he’s not as bad as she knows he is.”
“I wouldn’t—” Celia began.
“Shetoldme that he frightened her,” Marianne declared, thumping a writing box on the table. “She might have thought I was asleep, but I remember distinctly.”
“Thank you for your report, Lieutenant Marianne.” Henrietta opened the lid. “But I was going to say, before we can address the immediate problem, we must discuss the underlying issue, which is Mr. Richard Thompson’s financial solvency.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Rose said quickly. “Why must that affect us at all? We are well educated, and can take positions as governesses or teachers at a girls’ school. We can live by our own wits and hard work.”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“We’re as good as any man…?” Even Marianne sounded unsure.
“Exactly.” Rose folded her hands on the table. “Owen Featherstone is a gentleman, and he is working for pay. So does Mr. Hughes.”
Henrietta and Charlotte glanced at Celia helplessly.
“We are as good as any man in the eyes of God,” Celia explained, “but woman’s work is not considered equivalent to what men can do.”
“And your fiancé has specialized training,” Charlotte added.
