Page 74 of The Maid's Secret

But when neither side could agree upon the value of the ring, Priscilla had proposed an alternative—“a modern trousseau” is what she called it, one that would appreciate in the years to come “much like the marriage between our children.”

“Your father is a brilliant negotiator, Flora,” Mama revealed at dinner one night a week after the engagement as she recounted the details. “We’ve lost nothing, only gained in this arrangement.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You have the Fabergé,” said Papa as he cracked his lobster tail.

“But what did the Brauns get in exchange?”

“You,” said Mama as though I were a fool.

Papa was so bullish about the merger that he hired more staff at the manor to show off his rising fortunes. Shy Penelope became a full-time maid-in-training, a helper for Mrs.Mead. She now served our meals and waited on us hand and foot while Mrs.Mead cooked and did everything else my parents demanded of her.

“Penelope,” said Mama at dinner, “take this butter dish back to Mrs.Mead. It’s not warm enough.” The girl grabbed the dish and rushed off.

“Flora, in case you’re wondering,” said Papa, “if for any reason Algernon gets cold feet, you still get to keep the egg.”

“It’s an insurance policy for the rest of your life,” said Mama. “Its value is truly significant.”

“Is it?” I asked. “Do we have proof?”

“Proof?”said Mama as she laughed out loud.

“Proof is in possession,” said Papa, “and possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“What about the other tenth?” I asked.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over such things,” Papa advised. Any misgivings I had about being itemized on a balance sheet were quelled as I basked in the warmth of his gaze.

“Here you are,” said Mrs.Mead as she emerged from the kitchenand plunked my mother’s steaming butter dish in front of her. “Is it to your liking now, madam?”

“It will do,” Mama replied.

“Does anyone else wish to lodge a complaint about their dinner?” Mrs.Mead asked.

“That’ll be all, Mrs.Mead,” said Papa.

She disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Now that the merger’s complete, it’s time to celebrate,” said Mama. “Both families will host private festivities in honor of the impending marriage. The Brauns invited us to their yacht in Saint-Tropez in a couple months’ time.”

“And I’m taking Magnus and Algernon deer hunting on our grounds. We’re set for this weekend. Remember how I bagged a twelve-pointer after winning your hand, Audrey?”

“That stag’s head is in the basement somewhere—macabre thing,” remarked Mama, and Papa chuckled.

“I don’t want a deer to die just because I got engaged,” I said.

“Darling, it’s not about what you want. Let the men wear camouflage and shoot at things if it makes them feel virile.”

“We’ll need assistants,” Papa said. “William and his son will have to do.”

“Why them?” I asked. “I doubt they’ve shot guns in their lives.”

“Good,” said Papa. “They won’t show up Magnus and Algie.”

And so it was that the next Saturday, the Brauns showed up at the manor and Uncle Willy let them in.

“There’s my girl,” Magnus said as he kissed both my cheeks. “Pretty as a picture, isn’t she, Algie?”

---