Lady Rose's Education by Kate Milliner

glanced at her father, whose eyes were glazing with boredom. Family loyalty stopped her from telling Mr. Perry, how little she wanted to be a true member of her class. Her father would have found the thought of mourning a servant ludicrous. When confronted with such a death he made the requisite gestures to show his respect but did not bother his heart.
     
    The second footman was already collecting bowls from other guests, so they were both forced to spoon their soups with some speed. Lady Rose knew that she should turn the talk to some subject that was more suited for a dinner party, but she was tempted to get more things off her chest.
    ”Mr. Perry, I want to say one more thing. It is true what they say: witnessing such an event reminds one of the fragility of human life.”
    ”Yes, it is true. We are fragile. Fragile as butterflies.” His eye caught the candles on the table. ”Fragile as the fickle flame, easily blown out.”
    Lady Rose wanted to do one better.
    ”Fragile as an egg in a careless child's spoon.”
    ”That is beautifully put, Lady Rose,” Mr. Perry said, looking amused. ”You are a poet.”
    ”I do read quite a bit of poetry. I have even tried scribbling something myself,” Lady Rose admitted, ”but words fail me. My poems are like rooms that are poorly furnished. Something is lacking.”
    ”Maybe you are overly critical towards your own work,” Mr. Perry said. ”Most of us are. If you would be willing to show me your writings sometimes, I would be very interested to take a look.”
    He pulled back as a plate of venison stew was placed in front of him and continued, ”I am not an expert on literary matters, but I do think about language a great deal. I have my sermons to write, after all.”
    Lady Rose leaned back in her chair. The air was thick with horseradish and wit, and she couldn't help but thoroughly enjoy herself. ”Indeed? Isn't that a kind offer.”
    ”I would be a gentle critic.”
    ”I should hope so, Mr. Perry.”
     
    They ate for a while in silence. Lady Rose saw her mother looking at her reproachfully. She knew that the look was meant to tell her she had shamefully abandoned the gentleman on her left side.
    She gazed longingly to the other side of the table and could hear Mr. Cowley remark to his neighbour, ”Lady Agatha, is this not a fine rump we're having?”
    Unfortunately the comment caught the ear of the Countess as well. She gave Mr. Cowley a chilly look, unbeknownst to the gentleman himself. Lady Rose had to hide a smile behind her serviette.
    The Countess rose her eyebrows to her daughter meaningfully. Lady Rose looked defiant and took a long swig from her wine glass. During the dinner a glass after glass was placed in front of the eaters, and the tacit rule was that they were not to have more than a few tiny sips from each.
    ”I'm afraid I have not been making appropriate dinner chitchat, Mr. Perry,” she said, turning again towards her neighbour. ”Our conversation has rather been tugging this way and that, like a wild horse.”
    ”As the best conversations do,” Mr. Perry said cheerfully.
    ”I feel quite unburdened, and I thank you.”
    ”No need, Lady Rose. You are welcome to come and talk to me any time,” Mr. Perry said. Lady Rose smiled at him and forced herself to give Lord Ashbury some attention.
    ”Are you enjoying the venison, Lord Ashbury?” she asked.
    ”Yes, I believe I am,” Lord Ashbury said.
    Thankfully the Countess took this moment to make an announcement.
    ”I would like to share a piece of happy news with all of you,” she said to the whole table.
    ”Some time ago Lord Stowton,” she gave a little nod to her husband's direction, ”and myself received a letter from a fine gentleman and scholar, Lord Alderton, son of the Duke of Albany, asking for Lady Letitia's hand in marriage!”
    The two in question were beaming and accepting the blessings from around the table with grace.
    ”I am very glad to inform you that the matter has