[Short Story] Afternoon Tea
The silver pot rang against the cup and Rosamund let the tea steep a full two minutes, watching the maid's hands. Four years in her service and Lily still poured like her first week — a tremor at the wrist, the spout angled too sharp, a single amber drop escaping onto the saucer. "Clumsy," Rosamund said, without heat. Lily's blush climbed from her collar to her hairline. "Forgive me, my lady." "Set the tray down." The girl obeyed, and when she straightened Rosamund saw the faint shake in her fingers. She let her stand there, hands folded over her apron, while the Darjeeling went from sharp to perfect. Outside the bay window the lawn was going gold with late October. Inside, the clock ticked. "Come here," Rosamund said, and crooked one finger. Lily crossed the rug, past the low table with its plates of shortbread, and stopped at the arm of the wingback chair. "Closer." She stepped between Rosamund's knees, close enough that ...