By the time a footman opened the door to their carriage, Lady Holt was smiling and composed as she stepped down in her heavy gray silk dress.
Behind her, Cecily was silent again but deep in thought. She needed to use this moment to think. There had to be a solution.
* * *
“Do have a drink before the performance begins,” the pretty young Duchess of Mildenhall invited Lady Holt and Cecily after exchanging greetings in the reception room. “There will be further refreshments and a buffet during the break, and again after the end of the performance.”
“Is the buffet room through there?” Cecily asked, looking toward some doors where a maid was carrying a tray of sliced meats.
An idea was forming in her mind, not for rescue, but at least for feeding Mary tonight.
“Yes, indeed,” the Duchess replied with a tinkling laugh. “If you are hungry already, you must eat something now, Miss Holt. I would not want you to be distracted from the performance.”
“Do excuse my granddaughter, Your Grace,” Lady Holt interjected with an expression of distinct disapproval. “We shall enjoy the hospitality at an appropriate time, with everyone else.”
Cecily curtsied to the Duchess and let her grandmother drag her away.
“Mind your manners, Cecily,” the old woman hissed. “Eight years out in society and you ask questions like that! You will have people thinking that your uncle doesn’t feed you.”
“Well, he often doesn’t, so why should you mind people knowing?” Cecily retorted quietly.
She had curbed her tongue, hidden her spirit, and played along with her unloving relatives for so many years in order to protect Mary. If they now thought to sacrifice her sister for their own financial gain, then she would have little left to lose.
“Hush your nonsense,” Lady Holt scolded, pinching her arm hard enough that she fell silent.
Barely touching her drink, Lady Holt settled into a seat early in the reception room, eager to avoid being stuck with chairs in the back or in the more awkward corners. Cecily had no objections and was happy to find herself at the end of a row after her grandmother spotted an acquaintance and sat down beside her.
Once the music began and the strains of the Magic Flute overture filled the air, her mind wandered through plans and possibilities.
With so many people around during the break, was her idea really feasible? She didn’t want to call attention to herself, and anyway, her grandmother would be watching her very closely.
About a quarter of an hour into the performance, she noticed a very striking woman with golden hair leaving the room, a secretive smile on her face. A minute or two later, a tall, dark, and intense-looking man also departed.
Of course, it was natural that people would need to use the retiring rooms if they had taken several drinks beforehand.
Cecily waited for a while, not wanting to run into either of them. As the minutes passed and neither of them came back, she realized she needed to act anyway or lose her chance.
“I must go to the ladies’ retiring room,” she whispered in her grandmother’s ear. “I am desperate.”
“You should have gone beforehand,” Lady Holt grumbled, but made no attempt to stop her from slipping away.
With a calm face and eyes fixed straight ahead, Cecily headed to the room where the servants had laid out the food. Finding no one there, she cautiously pushed open the door and stepped inside.
What a feast!
Whole poached salmon on platters was surrounded by salmon mousse and piles of prawns in mayonnaise. Salads glistened with bright green leaves, red tomatoes, and a variety of chopped radishes and other vegetables. Partially carved cold joints of roast beef, pork, and lamb lay invitingly next to bowls of parsley-buttered potatoes, and a vast array of breads and cheeses took up an entire table by themselves.
Cecily’s mouth watered for salmon, but she wasn’t here to eat. She was here to sneak some food for Mary. Luckily, she had her reticule in the little silk evening bag she carried. What might be the most practical way to transport it home?
Knowing that time might be short before any servants returned or, worse, her grandmother came looking for her, she worked fast. She buttered slices of bread, pressed slices of meat and cheese between them, and wrapped them in a clean handkerchief before starting on another.
How much could she realistically fit in her bag? And how could she hide it from her grandmother? She would need to take the reticule to the cloakroom now and then cover it with her light cloak. Yes, that would work. It was a warm enough spring day that carrying her cloak to the carriage should draw little attention.
Now, she had used all her handkerchiefs and would have to borrow one of the linen napkins from the table to wrap the twoslices of sponge cake. It gave her a twinge of conscience, but the napkin could always be sent back later.
She felt a mix of laughter and tears bubble up in her throat as she hurriedly stuffed the cake into her bag along with the bread filled with meat and cheese. How had her life brought her to this sad absurdity?! Stealing food from the buffet at Mildenhall House…
“This has to be one of the most peculiar things I have ever seen,” said a man’s voice, echoing her thoughts.
