Would dinner never end? An excellent meal of cold cucumber soup, herb-crusted lamb served with roasted potatoes was wasted where tension so intense had Thomasine almost rescinding her rule of "family must attend" suppers. By the end of the fifth course she was questioning her sanity.
Small talk that included the royal gardens, architecture of the castle, and previous royal occupants and visitors flowed fairly well. She was undeniable in her skill. But with Osmond things became a bit more unpredictable.
Thankfully, Prince was as adept as she in guiding conversations toward more neutral topics. It seemed Lady Hilda harbored talents as well.
"The weather is simply fabulous this time of year, Your Majesty," Lady Roche said to Osmond swiftly. "Did you perchance order it yourself, Sir?"
Covered giggles erupted from the young ladies, Pricilla and Esmeralda. Unfortunately, their mother silenced them with a stern look halting the outburst abruptly. Thomasine hid a sigh behind her serviette. A shame, really as the young women's reaction lent them normalcy, an innocent sweetness.
Thomasine shared a curious look with Prince. She could see by his expression he'd thought the same-begging the need to remind her son royalty did not wear open miens. Sympathy for the girls filled her. Life must less agreeable with such an overbearing mother.
An awkward silence hovered over the party as Osmond seemed most perplexed by her question. Thomasine leaned forward and laid her hand over his. "It was a witticism, dear," Thomasine informed him, mildly.
"Ah!" Osmond laughed, loud and booming. The roar was out of place to all but him. "Certainment, Madame. I ordered it."
Oui. Supper would never end.
Osmond turned to the young ladies, spearing the two young women with a sharp gaze Thomasine had not seen in years. "Which of you did the shoe fit, eh?"
Pricilla covered an angry flash. Thomasine was sure no one noticed excepting herself.
His piercing look settled on Esmeralda and he leaned forward. Thomasine would have been thrilled under other circumstances. "Is there something wrong with your eyes, Girl?" He thundered. He seemed to remember the fork in his hand and stabbed it through a piece of lamb, oblivious to sudden hostility in the air.
Silence stretched across a taut atmosphere. How Thomasine kept from groaning aloud and dropping her head in her hands was beyond her. Royalty showed no emotion.
Which was not the case for their guests.
Esmeralda's already pale face drained of color. She bound from her chair so quickly it toppled but for a quick footed servant.
Gasping for breath the girl bolted from the room. Lady Roche's face flushed an even deeper shade of red than normal, and looked-well…murderous. Thomasine wished she felt justified in ordering her to the dungeon on facial expression alone. Alas, she could not. The woman was right to be angry for her child.