After Lucy managed to wrangle a flustered Eliza into the bath, she instructed her to take her breakfast with Lady Henry in the dining room. 

As Eliza wandered back down the hallway, fully dressed, she wondered if Brandon sprayed her outburst this morning around the servent's quarters like confetti or if he kept his lordship's affairs quiet. She hadn't been able to silence talk in London, but she hoped to silence it in her own household. Eliza had no intention of allowing Mrs. Davies or Lady Henry to think she found it acceptable to storm across the estate in a bathrobe, demanding to see her indisposed fiancé. It had been a moment of sheer madness, one she vowed would not be repeated.

As she rounded the corner into the dining room, she found Margaret, her teacup raised delicately to her pink lips, her eyes scanning a letter held between her fingers. Not wishing to interrupt, Eliza quietly made her way over to the buffet, curious to see what had been left out for breakfast.

"They'll serve you, my dear," Margaret said without lifting her gaze from the letter. "Come, sit."

Eliza nodded and complied, dropping into a dark wooden chair cushioned with silk. Almost immediately, a servant appeared to inquire whether she preferred coffee or tea. Already fidgeting with the nervousness building inside her, Eliza opted for tea, along with toast and jam.

The room was silent, save for the soft trickle of liquid as it poured from the ceramic spout. Eliza found her gaze drawn to the steam rising from her teacup, its delicate tendrils twisting and curling in the quiet. She waited, her thoughts fraught, for Margaret to begin the conversation that had been weighing on her mind. The letter in Margaret's hands seemed to span several pages, and Eliza, unsure of how to occupy herself, reached for the blackberry jam to spread onto her lightly toasted bread.

As the second page of the letter dropped onto the cream-colored tablecloth, Eliza hesitated. Her plate had just been placed before her, and she was reluctant to disturb the stillness of the room. How disruptive would it be to clink the knife into the glass jam bowl, then scrape it across the bread? The sound of it, followed by the clatter of chewing felt so intrusive, especially with Margaret's unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Eliza's mind darted to Colin's aunt. How much patience did she still have for a young bride, one whose actions were so often unpredictable?

Margaret finally placed the last page of her letter onto the table and, with a flick of her gaze, regarded Eliza. "Are you waiting for the toast to jump into your mouth?" she asked, her tone sharp but not unkind.

Eliza's eyes darted to her untouched breakfast before she replied, "I did not wish to disturb you."

Margaret waved her dainty hand dismissively, "Carry on, girl. If I had wished to read in silence, I would have retreated to the study."

Granted her permission, Eliza began to nibble on her toast, the quiet crunch filling the air. Margaret took the opportunity to inquire, "Have you recovered from your evening in the woods?"

Eliza nodded, reaching for her teacup. "More than I have from my mishap at tea."

A grin flickered at the corners of Margaret's lips, though it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.

"Ah, yes. The matter with Miss Cameron should be discussed, even if my nephew insists her appearance in Nottinghamshire has nothing to do with him."

"I fear it has everything to do with him. His engagement is in the papers, and suddenly she turns up in a town where no local theater is held. What other reason would she have for being in the vicinity?" Eliza counters, trying to steady herself.

"She claims to be an honored guest of Mr. Hartwig, which speaks volumes about her character," Margaret mutters, her disapproval clear. "But even so, she arrived at the Whitmans' without an invitation and seemed to provoke a quarrel with the new marchioness. Her behavior may have been even more appalling than yours, if such a thing is possible."

Eliza's gaze darts away, suddenly more interested in the cloth napkin in her lap. She remains focused on her hands as she replies, "She came to tea to find me. To inform me that she intends to be established as Colin's mistress."

"I beg your pardon?" Margaret snapped, forcing Eliza to meet her gaze. "Is that what happened in the garden?"

She nodded. "She had been flirtatious at the séance, and then wanted to know if I was a title hunter or in love. I think I gave her clarity, even if how I went about it was a bit... off-putting."

Margaret let out a delicate laugh. "You socked her, darling. Let's call a spade a spade, shall we?"

"Right, well... I shouldn't have hit her. It was very unladylike, and I didn't want my stay here to start off with a bang," Eliza huffed, still twisting the napkin in her hands.

"Eliza, I think you should come out with more of a bang!" Margaret said, raising her fist in the air. "I've been watching you these past few days, and you seem to wish to fade into the furniture. That, if you could turn into upholstery, you would!"

"Socializing and small talk have never been a strength of mine, I admit," Eliza answered, her cheeks rosy and flushed. "Being thrust into rooms full of strangers unnerve me. I feared ugly rumors swirled around me in London, and the whispers of strangers who all seemed to know me caused me to keep to myself."

"We need to change that, dear," Margaret had told her after taking a sip of tea. "Gatherings are about to become an everyday occurrence for you. One day, you will be a duchess, with your husband running a dukedom. You will have enemies, women eyeing what's yours, and you cannot walk around poking their eyes out with your gloved finger."

Eliza had tried not to laugh at the visual. She had forced her hands to stop moving and sighed.

"How should I deal with this? Appropriately. Colin already said he has no desire to see that woman again in his life," Eliza had asked plainly. Margaret had pursed her lips and waited for the servant to clear the empty plate that sat before her. Her hand had rested on the table, bobbing as she thought it over.

"I think it's best you stay away from her. She left the Whitman's embarrassed and covered in blood. She was practically dragged out of here by her hair this morning," Margaret stated and Eliza realized she knew that Cecilia trespassed last night. Word does travel fast inside this estate. "I think my nephew needs to deal with it. You are simply an obstacle to her."

"We discussed it briefly last night, but you're right. She won't stop until he tells her to," Eliza admitted and then plucked her teacup into her fingers. 

"Now, we have other matters to discuss besides Miss Cameron," Margaret said, sweeping the unpleasant name from the room with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I have just received word from my sister. They are on schedule and will arrive by sundown on Friday. The ball is on Saturday, and there is much to prepare for." Eliza nodded in agreement before Margaret continued, "However, I do not wish your last appearance before the ball to be overshadowed by the sordid business in the garden. Therefore, I thought that, since Miss Margot Whitsett is about your age and also preparing to come out into society, it might be beneficial for you two to spend a bit of time together. She is on good terms with the other local ladies, and it might do you some good to cultivate friendships with those of a similar age and interests. While I know Colin enjoys holding your attention, I think it wise for you to become a touch more social."

"I quite enjoyed Margot yesterday," Eliza admitted. "I believe I should like having her as an acquaintance." Margot had a certain mischief in her eyes that reminded Eliza of Penelope. A natural ease about her that made Eliza feel more at ease herself.

"Good. Why don't you pay a visit to the Whitman's this afternoon? Make your apologies for yesterday and then have tea with Margot if she allows it. Lend her some pointers of what to expect for the London social season."

Eliza let out a breathy laugh. "Ha! I am the last person Margot would wish to take advice from on that subject."

"I should have thought you an expert," Margaret remarked. "Did you not attend three seasons? And end up engaged to a marquess?"

"Sheer luck and murder led me to Colin," Eliza replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "It was not a fine gown or waltzing about a ballroom that secured my engagement." She paused, her thoughts drifting to whether she and Colin might have spoken at all if they had merely crossed paths at a ball. Then, she recalled the one they had attended. The memory of yelling at him surfaced, and she flushed with regret.

"Oh my, well, do keep the whole murder bit out of the conversation. Perhaps stick to fashion and dancing, if you would," Margaret replied with a grimace. She raised her teacup again and Eliza wondered if she was even capable of carrying on an entire conversation about dresses and dances she had rarely taken part in.

Still, she agreed to try. She missed companionship and the easy rhythm of weekly tea dates. Penelope would have been ecstatic to attend a ball hosted by a duke in the countryside, with shimmering champagne and flowing silk filling the grand ballroom. Her dance card had always been full. Eliza recalled watching her flirtatious friend lower her lashes as she flitted her fan to hide a devilish smirk when gentlemen discovered her tucked away in a corner. Balls had always come easily to Penelope. Eliza supposed she could draw upon her friend's experiences when speaking with Margot.

"I'll see to Margot," Eliza said as she rose from her chair. "I shall do what I must to be more... social." Margaret offered her a satisfied smile, clearly pleased to have her advice heeded.

"Do try to enjoy yourself," Margaret replied as Eliza made her way toward the door.