Page 138 of If the Slipper Fits
Her heart in her throat, she approached the door. She opened it wide, and found a stooped chamber maid, the same she’d seen in the corridor this morning.
The woman shot a furtive glance inside the room while somehow keeping her gaze on the ground. She hunkered over a rolling cart on which sat a silver tea service, and two covered dishes. “Breakfast, m’ladies.”
Tamping down an unreasonable flood of disappointment that Caden had not magically appeared, she turned to her grandmother. “You ordered breakfast?”
Her grandmother spread her delicate hands. “I didn’t. Perhaps the innkeeper took it upon himself as we had yet to come down to eat.”
The white-capped woman pressed the cart inside. She looked worn, bent over the cart as she was.
Anna studied her. Poor thing. Something about the way she moved told her she was not a young woman, as were most of the inn’s chamber maids. She did boast a mop of curly red hair, not so neatly styled. It barely fit under her cap.
Having parked the cart between the arm chairs, the maid turned and hurried from the room, with a muttered, “Pull the call bell when ye’ve finished, if ye please.” The door closed behind her with a bang.
“Good help is hard to find, even in the nicest of establishments,” her grandmother said with a sniff.
Anna eyed the cart. “Nevertheless, I could eat.”
“Solving the world’s problems does work up one’s appetite. Shall I pour?”
Anna resumed her seat and unfolded her serviette.
“What do you think? Shall we away to Chissington Hall after we eat?”
She lifted her chin. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like a day to consider my best course of action.”
They tucked into dishes consisting of boiled eggs, ham, and toast, and sipped lukewarm tea in companionable silence.
Anna felt better than she had in days. Despite the ever-present heart ache, having shared her inmost feelings with her grandmother had eased some of her pain.
She smiled at her grandmother, who blinked back at her and issued a giant yawn.
The act proved contagious, and Anna yawned, as well.
They both chuckled—and yawned again.
“Perhaps some more tea to wake us up?” Anna asked, already pouring.
“It’s not the best tea I’ve had. Their standards are slipping.”
Anna nodded, sloshing a bit of the tepid liquid over her grandmother’s cup into the saucer. “Oh, dear.” She giggled.
Her grandmother squinted at her. “I feel…not quite whight.” She shook her head. “…whight,”she repeated, once more mispronouncing the word.
Anna chuckled. “I’m not sure why everything seems funny.” She picked up her teacup and sipped, watching as her grandmother reached for hers.
It slipped from her fingers, crashing into the saucer. Tea splashed over the surface of the cart.
Anna flopped back in her chair, dismayed by the task of cleaning the spill. “I’ll wipe that…moment…need to…rest…”
She awoke from a bizarre dream involving Caden and her late father’s wife. In it, Angelique had hidden her away in an attic while Caden wandered the town in possession of one of her slippers—half the set she’d worn at the Femsworth house party. She never had found that missing slipper.
She tried to open her eyes and found her lids resistant as if held down by glue. She moaned softly. Her head hurt, she was very thirsty, cold to the point of shivering, and her shoulders ached of all things, probably because she had fallen asleep in the carriage, slumped sideways, with her arms behind her.
The carriage. They’d departed? Hadn’t they discussed waiting? She tried and found it impossible to pull her arms from behind her. With effort, she peeled open her gritty eyes.
She noted several things at once. Though she indeed traveled by coach, she was not riding in her grandmother’s pristine vehicle. Her nose, and the light from at least one low burning lamp illuminating the cabin interior, told her that much. The cushions, the fabrics, the musty pervasive scent, in short, everything about her surroundings screamed dingy.
She slid her gaze to the window nearest her. Someone had drawn the short curtains, but slits of light coming from beneath and between the folds said the sun still shone outside, albeit weakly. She’d been asleep a few hours, then.
