Page 22 of The Butler and the Bluestocking
Explaining the anti-Hebraic sentiment that still prevailed in much of the country to her very open-minded and thoughtful stepsister had been difficult. Emma was too young to learn of such prejudice and the evil it could breed. However, Bess had never believed in varnishing the truth. Emma had been very quiet for a time after that conversation. Then suddenly she was arguing with Merrilyn and entertaining Jane with her normal good nature. Emma was very intelligent. Bess knew she’d taken time to consider the impact of bias against an entire people and had decided for herself how to proceed if she ever encountered someone of the Hebrew faith.
And how to proceed with this invitation was exactly what Bess needed to do right now. She had to wonder if Mr. Marr were somehow involved. But she could not know for certain.What to do?
She stared into her teacup for some time before rising to ring for Crewe. Then she folded the note and slipped it through a slit in the side seam of her dress into one of the pockets she wore beneath her skirt.
“You rang, my lady?”
“Yes. Do you know where the countess is at this moment?”
“I believe the countess and your sisters are in the upper parlor being used as a sewing room. There is a concert tonight that requires much preparation.”
“Thank you. You may remove the tea tray.”
“Yes, my lady. However, may I say that her ladyship has given orders that, if you are working in this room, you are not to be disturbed. She may be happier if I ask her on your behalf to attend you here.”
Bess intensely disliked the idea of interrupting her stepmother when involved in any effort to launch Iris, Ivy, and Josefine. But she would prefer speaking with Patience privately. “If that is her wish, Crewe. Please ask her for me. In which case you may leave the tea tray.”
“As you please, my lady. I will bring a fresh pot and a second cup as soon as I’ve spoken with the countess.”
Bess returned to her chair and sipped at the Saiidi, trying to still her racing heart and understand why she could be so anxious about a mere invitation to supper.It is not as if I would be spending hours in a crowded ballroom where strangers study me and make me feel like a prize cow on display at a local fair.
“Crewe said you wanted to speak with me.” Patience glided into the room, taking the chair next to Bess. Calm floated in with her, and Bess’s heartbeat slowed to a steady thrumming.
“Yes, Patience. I’m sorry to interrupt the sewing, but I need your counsel. May I offer you some tea?”
“Is it that Egyptian concoction that you and Cousin Rose swear by?”
“Yes, I can have Crewe bring something else if you prefer.”
“No, no. Every once in a while, trying something different is good for the soul.”
Bess touched the side of the pot. “This is still warm.” She poured. “Sugar.”
“Absolutely.”
“The Egyptians like it that way too, so Cousin Rose has told me.” Bess added two lumps of sugar to the tea, placed a spoon on the saucer and handed the whole to Patience.”
Her stepmother sipped and smiled. “A bittersweet tang, just as I remembered it from when Rose first served me a cup. Now, what is it you wish to discuss?”
Bess retrieved the note from her pocket and handed it to Patience. “Crewe brought me this along with my tea.”
Patience perused the short note, sipping on her Saiidi as she read, then put both cup and note aside.” Are you pleased with this invitation?”
“Perhaps. I’m more surprised than anything else. I’ve never met Nedhelm, though I know of him by reputation. I’ve certainly had no occasion to encounter his wife, and the invitation comes from her.”
“It would hardly be appropriate for a married man to formally invite you. No doubt he asked his wife to send the note.”
“But why? I’ve no reputation to speak of. He cannot possibly know I publish under the name B. Biggs.”
“Are you certain? Perhaps Mr. Thomas Young said something.”
Bess shook her head. “No, he would never betray my trust in that way. He knows my continued ability to publish rests on the world believing B. Biggs to be a man.”
“Does anyone else outside the family know yournom de plume?”
“Of course, it must have been Kenti . . . er Professor Marr who prompted Nedhelm to issue the invitation. He discovered my pseudonym one evening when he was putting the study to order. I’d been called away to attend to Jane. You remember that evening she had an earache and you were out with the girls.”
“Yes, I do recall, and I thank you again for watching over her. So, Mr. Marr’s discovery was quite accidental?”
