If Clara thought the day would get any less of a handful, she was very wrong. As the usual dinner time approached—with Lord and Lady Llewelyn absent, the meal became a much less formal affair—Clara received a messenger mouse from Beatrice, the head dinner chef, frantically requesting her to the kitchens.
Clara could smell what was going on before anyone told her. There was far too much activity for a casual dinner. "Beatrice," Clara said slowly as she entered the kitchen, "what is going on?"
Beatrice looked both frantic and, rightfully, annoyed. "Our employers have decided to come home early," she said. "And not only that, the Norringtons will be here as well, so not only do we need a dinner suitable for the Llewelyns—"
"We need one to impress their guests," Clara finished for her.
"Which takes planning." Beatrice threw a spoon down on the counter. "So, it's going to be a tight one today."
"What can I do?"
Beatrice put Clara to work chopping some vegetables, but both knew Clara couldn't stay long. Once again, she would be subjected to a long preparation period with Araminta. Clara would rather stay with the plants.
"I didn't realize we were having a large dinner tonight," Clara said as she helped Araminta dress.
"Nobody did," Araminta said. She glanced at herself in the mirror. "But if my parents want one, we have one. And if the Norringtons want to come, they're invited. It's as simple as that, you should know that, Clara."
"Of course, my lady." Clara watched as Araminta applied a thin layer of powder on her face. "How did this afternoon go?"
"Very well." Araminta snapped the powder case closed. "Now, let's go."
Clara couldn't help but notice that Araminta was being shorter with her than usual—which was an impressive feat. The only question: was Araminta just stressed about the Norringtons' unexpected appearance, or had Clara done something to upset her?
In some ways, Clara hoped to never actually find out. She dreaded what the answer might be.
Another evening, another fancy dinner. Araminta was the last to arrive, and given how quiet the manor had been all day, the elaborate decorations and dinner place settings surprised even Clara. It seems someone had pulled off a miracle.
Beatrice had pulled one off as well. A cook pushed a cart of food into the dining room just as Araminta sat down across from Harrison. He gave her a polite smile, but Clara couldn't see how Araminta reacted back.
"Harrison, I'm so sorry we missed you today." Lady Llewelyn took charge of what was shaping up to be an incredibly fascinating conversation. "If we had known you were planning a visit, we would have made sure to be here."
"Oh, don't worry yourself, Lady Llewelyn," Harrison said. "It was my fault for not properly letting you know ahead of time. And besides, Lady Araminta and I had a pleasant conversation together. I had a lovely time." With his last words, his eyes flashed up to Clara, who was currently serving appetizers, and a smile grew on his face.
Clara knew she was blushing and looked down to avoid his stare, doing her best to keep her hand steady as she continued putting food down on plates.
Lady Llewelyn continued to speak, apparently oblivious as to whom Harrison was actually speaking to. "That's wonderful. I'm so glad you two are getting along so well."
"As am I."
"Yes, and Lady Araminta, we were so pleased to have you stay with us." Mrs. Norrington spoke up. "You're welcome to come back any time you like."
"I appreciate that, Mrs. Norrington," Araminta replied.
"Do you ever think they get tired of talking about the same thing over and over and over again?"
Clara jumped slightly as Beatrice appeared at her shoulder. Clara suppressed a smirk. "Makes you wonder how boring their lives actually are," she whispered back.
"So, Harrison, have you given much thought about joining the business world?" Lord Llewelyn brought the conversation to work.
Harrison took a sip of wine. "A little bit, yes," he said.
"Will you be wanting to join your father's work?" Lord Llewelyn asked.
Harrison nodded. "I would love to learn more about what he does, yes," he said. "I'm mostly interested in learning about the work he does down on earth."
Clara nearly dropped the plate she was holding, and Beatrice took in a sharp breath. The dining room fell deadly silent.
"What the hell is he playing at?" Beatrice whispered. "Isn't he supposed to be impressing these people?"
All Clara could do was shrug.
"How charitable." Araminta spoke this time. Another surprise. She had no interest at all in business. "May I ask why?"
"Of course." Harrison took another sip of wine, the only person who was consuming anything at the table at that point. "I suppose it's not so much that I'm interested in finding what business opportunities are available on earth. Its more that I want to know how our business ventures are run down there."
"How do you mean?" Mr. Norrington asked. "I don't see why they would be run any differently than the ones up here in the sky."
Clara couldn't see Mr. Norrington's' face, but she could see Mrs. Norrington. Harrison's mother looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.
"Well," Harrison began, "with business deals in the sky, we know the people we're providing services to, yes?"
Mr. Norrington nodded.
"And would you say having those client relationships helps ensure everyone gets what they need?"
"Of course."
"But we do not have that relationship with the people who live on earth. So how can we be sure that we're providing them with what they need?"
"Of course, we are," Mr. Norrington said. "As Lady Araminta said, its charity work. They love anything we give them."
"Oh, do I have some words I would like to say to him." Clara didn't dare turn around, but she guessed that Beatrice's eyes were shooting daggers right now. The chef didn't live too far from Clara.
"Have you ever had a conversation longer than two minutes with someone who lives on earth?"
As Harrison stared directly at his father, two pieces of a puzzle clicked together in Clara's mind. When he had confronted her about eavesdropping on his father, Clara had thought he had been looking for details on the business deal between Mr. Norrington and Thaddeus London. Now Clara suspected Harrison didn't know his father was part of Thaddeus London's project at all. She had let that slip when they spoke.
Harrison wasn't supposed to know that his father had any projects on earth at all.
"My darling," Mrs. Norrington spoke up, casting a nervous glance at Lord and Lady Llewelyn, "I'm not sure why any of this is important."
"We all have people who work for us who live on earth, right?" Harrison's eyes once again flashed toward Clara. "And yet you don't think it's important that we talk to them?"
At that moment, a kitchen staff member appeared with the next course. "It's all you," Beatrice murmured.
Great. With a clenched jaw, Clara picked up the tray of soup bowls and cautiously approached the table. No one paid her any attention, not even noticing as she placed bowls down on the table.
"So what would you suggest?" Lord Llewelyn didn't look particularly scandalized or angry, but more mildly curious. "If you think our charitable actions aren't suitable?"
"I wouldn't suggest anything," Harrison said. "I would ask."
"Ask who?" Mr. Norrington replied.
"The people who we're supposedly trying to help."
"What?" Mr. Norrington laughed. "Ask the people who live on earth? They would just ask for things they want, not what they need. They would just take advantage of us."
All Clara could think about was how difficult it was for her and Ezra to save enough money to buy Emme medicine. But no 'charity project' had ever done anything to increase the amount of medical supplies available to them. Mr. Norrington's words felt like someone twisting a knife in her stomach.
Clara was fortunate that she happened to be serving Harrison at that moment. Her hand shook just slightly as Mr. Norrington spoke and she put the bowl of soup down in front of him. It splashed just slightly over the edge, but not enough for anyone but Harrison to notice.
But Harrison did notice. He looked up at her, and his hard eyes soften in concern as Clara held his gaze, trying to tell him to stop without actually saying anything. After what was probably a few seconds too long, Harrison turned back around to face the table, and Clara straightened up and served the last few soup bowls.
"I just think it would be a better use of our time and resources to actually invest in what people need, not what we necessarily think they need." Harrison's voice had steadied, and instead of challenging his father, he stared at a spot on the tablecloth. "Please excuse me, Lord and Lady Llewelyn, I did not mean to make things uncomfortable."
"Oh, don't apologize." Lady Llewelyn looked visibly relieved at the change of conversation. "It's admirable that you're so passionate, but you're certainly not going to solve anything at a dinner table."
Light laughter filled the room as Clara returned to her spot next to Beatrice. When she turned around to face the table, Harrison was staring at her again, but Clara couldn't tell what was going through his mind.
"Thank goodness he shut his mouth," Beatrice muttered. "I thought someone was going to start a fight."
"Was that someone going to be you if Mr. Norrington didn't stop acting like he was some godly saint to all of us poor earth underlings?"
Beatrice barely contained a snort of laughter. "Potentially," she said. "I still might do it."
"Well, it'd be entertaining, but I do really like your food, so I'd rather you not get fired."
"Clara, more wine." Araminta raised her wineglass.
With a final look at Beatrice, Clara grabbed the wine jug and approached the table once again.