Tea with Jam & Dread

“Baking, as you well know, is my happy place. Not usually with so many other people around, but generally, they all worked well together. Not that I baked. I mostly made sandwiches, and then I helped set the tables.”

“Get any ideas?”

“I’m definitely putting coronation chicken sandwiches on my menu. I snuck one when the chef wasn’t looking, and I do like them. I think my customers will, too. I didn’t help much with the desserts, but some looked interesting and were new to me, so we’ll see what they taste like, and if necessary, I can try to wheedle the recipe out of Ian.”

Bernie and I were in our room getting ready for the birthday tea. While I’d been in the kitchen, a truck pulled up outside and buckets of flowers delivered. I’d helped arrange the blooms and greenery in small vases to adorn each table. No rain was in the forecast, so tables and chairs had been set up throughout the gardens and terraces. Blankets and throws were placed over the backs of chairs, and stand heaters switched on. At Tea by the Sea, I have a gorgeous patio area overlooking the gardens of the B & B, but not long after Labor Day, we take down the sun umbrellas, fold up the chairs, and stack the tables behind the building to await the arrival of spring.

The English must be hardier than us. Comes from living in old damp stone buildings, perhaps.

The table for the birthday girl and her family was set with Elizabeth’s personal set of Wedgwood Renaissance Gold. The rest of the tables got nice (but nothing terribly special) white plates and cups with a thin gold trim. The teapots were silver, as were the three-tiered stands that would hold the food. Every place had a pressed white-linen napkin, silver cutlery, a silver tea strainer, water glasses, and a crystal champagne flute. Children and non-imbibing attendees would be served juice rather than sparkling wine to toast Lady Frockmorton.

“What did you do while I was slaving away?” I asked Bernie.

“I slept. A lovely, long, luxurious nap. Sorry, just teasing. I had a short snooze, and then I worked out some plot problems for the book.”

“You are not relocating it to England, I hope.”

“No. I decided going back and reworking it to give them reason to go to England would be too much. Maybe in the next book.”

“Ready?” I asked.

“Ready,” she replied.

As this was a formal tea party for a hundredth birthday, Bernie and I had decided it was appropriate to put on our best clothes. She wore a tea gown reminiscent of the Roaring Twenties, and I was in a scoop-necked beige linen dress with three-quarter-length sleeves and lace trim at the bodice. We both had feathered fascinators on our heads, and we carried pashminas, in case the patio heaters weren’t up to the task.

I might have known that as much as my friend and I thought we were going all out, my grandmother would do us one better. The blouse under her emerald green suit had a high, fluffy pink collar. Enormous green and pink beads hung around her neck, and matching bangles jangled at her wrists. The outfit was topped by a sweeping green hat with pink flowers attached to the brim. Her eyeglasses had enormous round green frames.

“Wow!” Bernie said.

“I’ve never seen that outfit before. When did you get it?” I asked.

“I might have told a little white lie last week when I mentioned that Marian was picking me up for bridge.” Rose gave me a wicked grin. “Instead, we went to Provincetown, shopping.”

“As always, Rose,” Bernie said, “you are the belle of the ball.”

“I hope not. I wouldn’t want to overshadow Elizabeth.”

We were not overdressed, and we didn’t overshadow anyone, not in the least. The children were in suits and ties, for the boys, and party dresses, for the girls. Even the few teenagers present were done up nicely, and some of the older couples looked as though they were heading to Buckingham Palace to have tea with the king and queen.

Robert and Annabelle stood at the doors to the terrace, greeting guests. They were with a woman I hadn’t seen last night. Judging by her age, I thought it might be Elizabeth’s daughter, Katherine, the mother of Tony and Susannah. Robert was in a business suit of excellent cloth and cut, and Annabelle wore a floor-length black gown with fur at the collar and cuffs. The other woman was in a business suit. Lissie had taken up a spot on the low stone wall, basking in the weak sun, occasionally allowing guests to scratch between her ears.

As we waited in the reception line, I spotted Tony whispering instructions to a waiter putting the finishing touches on the head table. Susannah and Emma moved through the crowd, smiling and exchanging hugs and air-kisses. Julien did the same, while Jacqueline kept an eye on her daughters. The twins looked adorable in matching blue dresses and high white socks with gold-buckled shiny black shoes. Blue velvet ribbons held back their yellow hair. Elizabeth hadn’t yet arrived.

A sign by the door to the terrace mentioned that the bar would be open all afternoon and guests were welcome to take advantage of it. More than a few appeared to have done so, as guests mingled holding glasses and beer mugs.

“Rose, how wonderful you were able to make it,” Robert said when we reached the front of the receiving line. “We’re absolutely delighted to have you. I hope you don’t mind my saying you provide a touch of history of the sort my mother is so fond of.”

“I don’t mind in the least,” Rose said. “I’m only glad I was able to reach sufficient age to be considered historical.”

Everyone laughed lightly.

“Let me introduce my sister, Katherine Waterfield,” Robert said. “Katherine arrived early this morning. Katherine, Mrs. Campbell, formerly of Halifax. Her granddaughter, Lily and, uh—”

“Bernadette Murphy,” Bernie said quickly.

“Lily was kind enough to help in the kitchen this morning,” Annabelle said.

“I’m sure that was appreciated,” Katherine said. “Tony, the hotel manager, is my son.”

“When we get a chance, you must tell me all about your career as a pastry chef,” Annabelle said.

“I’d be happy to.”

“A family tradition, is it? Working in kitchens?” Annabelle smiled at Rose.

Rose returned the smile. “An honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay, as my father always said. Better than some.”

We moved on.

“Ooo-kay,” Bernie said. “That line is going straight into my book. My gosh what a—”

“Never mind her,” Rose said. “As the importance of the landed aristocracy fades into insignificance, some of them try to hold on to their self-opinion for all they’re worth. Occasionally that consists of reminding others they used to be known as their ‘betters.’ ”

“Happens in America, too,” Bernie said. “You wouldn’t believe the attitude of some of the scions of wealthy families I’ve encountered in my job. They found themselves in quite the pickle because they couldn’t believe they’d squandered all the money they inherited. Or flat out cheated to get. Quite often the situation was entirely my fault, because I failed to treat them with the respect they naturally deserved.” Bernie was a forensic accountant, and she’d worked for a top Manhattan criminal-law firm before quitting to come to Cape Cod to write her book. She chuckled happily. “When their file left my desk and went up the ladder to one of the lawyers, they learned the meaning of lack of respect fast enough.”

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Josh, the farrier, greeted us. “Mrs. Campbell, may I say you look simply stunning.”

Rose colored ever so slightly. “You may.”

“Granddad would enjoy the pleasure of your company.” Josh gestured behind him. Reggie was seated at a table near the blackened stone wall. He gave us a toothless grin and a wave.

“I’ll join him, then,” Rose said.

“Can I get you something from the bar?”

“No, thank you, love. A small glass of champagne, later, will suffice.”

“Welcome, Mrs. Campbell.” Julien joined our little group. He held a glass of what looked like whiskey in his hand. “May I say you look quite striking this afternoon.”

“You certainly may.” Rose gave him a girlish smile.

Julien looked at Josh. Josh looked at Julien. They did not smile, and they did not greet each other. Instead, Julien said, “Make yourself useful, will you, Hansen, and help Mrs. Campbell to a seat.”

“Wouldn’t have thought of doing that all on my own, Your Lordship. As ever, thanks so much for your help. Anything else needs doing, let me know, seeing as to how your hands are full.” Josh pointedly looked at Julien’s whiskey glass, and then he held out his arm, and Rose slipped hers through it. He led her across the flagstone floor without another glance at Julien.

“I hope you enjoy yourselves,” Julien said tightly, not looking at us. He walked away.

“Not the best of friends, those two, I’d guess,” Bernie said. “Never mind them. A trip to the bar sounds good to me. Lily?”

“Sure. A glass of white wine, please.”

She slipped away.

“My brother tells me you helped out in the kitchen earlier.” Seeing I was momentarily on my own, Susannah approached me. “Singing for your supper?”

“More like wanting to see how it’s done in a place like this.”

“What did you think? And that’s a serious question, by the way. Tony’s the manager of the hotel, and this weekend I’m his spy.”

“I was impressed. An efficient operation, with a head chef who’s in control but not domineering.” I didn’t say anything about him ordering her relatives out of “his” kitchen.

“That’s what we like to hear. Ian is good, and we were lucky to get him. Did you meet our mum, Katherine? She wasn’t able to get away until this morning.”

“I did. Does your mother have much to do with the running of the hotel?”

“Not a single thing. And that suits her perfectly, same as it suits me. I might have said I’m Tony’s spy, but only I know that.” She laughed.

The gardens were filling up quickly as more guests arrived. Robert left his place on the receiving line and disappeared. Bernie came back with my wine, handed it to me, and began looking around for people to talk to. Before she could move, Robert returned, his mother on his arm.

Elizabeth looked lovely, every inch the Dowager Countess in an ankle-length rose-colored dress with matching overcoat that fell past her knees. Her hat was the color of the dress, highlighted by a wide gray-lace band. She was not wearing the Frockmorton Sapphires today, just a string of small pearls around her neck, with matching ones in her ears.

Guests stood and applauded as Robert escorted his mother across the terrace. Julien followed, with his wife, Carmela, next to him. They might have been walking together, but they were keeping their distance and not looking at each other. The procession was preceded by Jacqueline’s twins, looking extremely proud at their importance. Elizabeth greeted guests and spoke to them briefly, but in acknowledgment of her age, she was taken directly to the head table, where she took her seat.

Robert turned to the onlookers. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome guests, please find yourselves a place. Service will begin shortly.”

I snagged a seat for Bernie and me at a table toward the back of the garden, overlooking the maze, and nodded politely to my table companions as the tea was brought out.

Wait staff circled with the teapots, offering us a choice of green tea, English Breakfast, or Lapsang Souchong—or juice, for those who didn’t want tea. I chose the Lapsang Souchong. Our table companions were a woman from York whose late mother had been a close friend of Elizabeth, her husband, and a collection of distant relatives of the family.

We made pleasant small talk as the tea was poured and the three-tiered stands were brought out. “Be sure and try the coronation chicken sandwiches, I made them myself,” I said proudly, sounding like a kindergarten student displaying her artwork.

I tried one and regretted telling everyone I’d made them. The sandwiches were okay, but not as good as the one I’d had the day before, or even the one I’d sampled after making them. This one was slightly too dry, perhaps. Had I added too much of something and not blended the mixture sufficiently? I struggled to identify what made this one different, but I couldn’t place it immediately, and the conversation at my table went on. I couldn’t help but notice that the woman from York put her chicken sandwich aside after talking only one small bite.

Scones are always my favorite part of afternoon tea, and these were wonderful, light and flaky. I thought I might ask Ian for his recipe and see how it compares to mine. The strawberry jam was lovely, and the clotted cream, thick and perfect. As for the desserts, I particularly liked the chocolate tart made with the slightest hint of coffee. It fit in perfectly as part of a dessert selection, and was so chocolatey and rich a tiny slice would suit all but the most fanatic of chocolate lovers.

Eventually, the tea was drunk and the food consumed. The staff continually circled with teapots and brought out more food, if asked. I kept half an eye on Rose, but she seemed to be enjoying herself, chatting with Reggie and the other elderly people at her table. When everyone seemed to have had enough, the staff quickly and efficiently whisked away the used cutlery and dishes, and what little remained of the food. Others, meanwhile, including my new friend, Alicia, began circulating with bottles of top-shelf champagne. People who were seated in the far-flung reaches of the terrace or around corners got to their feet and stood at the edges of the main area, ready to join in the toast.

When everyone’s glass was full, Robert got to his feet. He raised his own glass. “To my mother, Elizabeth, the Dowager Countess of Frockmorton, on the occasion of her one hundredth birthday.”

“Elizabeth, Lady Frockmorton,” the toasts rang out.

Elizabeth beamed with delight, giving me a glimpse of the great beauty she had once been. She lifted her glass in acknowledgment and touched it to her lips. “I hope you’ll pardon me, if I do not stand. These days the spirit is willing, but the knees and hips are not. To paraphrase Bilbo Baggins: First of all, to tell you that I am immensely fond of you all, and that one hundred years is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable Yorkshiremen and women.”

The distant relatives at our table exchanged confused looks.

“Always loved Lord of the Rings, Elizabeth and my mother did,” my table companion explained. “My mum didn’t make to ninety, for all she was hoping to celebrate her eleventy-first. I have hopes Elizabeth will make it.”

“I thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for coming today,” Elizabeth continued. “The years have not always been easy for me, but I hope—” She broke off in midsentence and turned to look at her eldest grandchild, seated at the far end of the head table.

Julien had let out a choked cry. He started to stand. His eyes were wide and full of fear, his left hand clutched his throat, and his right hand flailed in the air. Next to him, his sister, Jacqueline, leapt to her feet. Julien stared at her. He tried to talk but nothing came out. He clutched at the edges of the tablecloth as his legs gave way. China and glassware tumbled to the ground, and Julien slowly followed. Jacqueline screamed.

Everyone was on their feet now, some yelling for help, some asking others what was going on. I heard a mumbled prayer among the sounds of glass breaking, as champagne flutes were mindlessly discarded. One of the distant relatives at my table already had her phone out and was moving. My own first thought was to seek out my grandmother. My eyes found her, still in her chair, looking as shocked as everyone else. She saw me, and gave me a nod saying she was okay. She put her hand on Reggie’s arm and spoke to him.

The woman I’d met in the kitchen earlier, Alicia, arrived at a run. “I’m a doctor. Let me through.”

The distant relative reached the head table and told Alicia. “I’m a paramedic.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Alicia said.

“Has anyone called 999?” someone yelled. “We need an ambulance here, and fast.”

All around me, phones were taken out and emergency calls placed.

Alicia and the medic crouched behind the table, examining Julien. Susannah had taken her grandmother’s arm and was leading a shaking Elizabeth away.

“We need to let these people do what they do.” Tony spoke in a loud firm voice, a man in control, issuing rapid orders. But he couldn’t help taking a peek behind him, at what was happening on the far side of the table. When he turned back, his face was pale. “Bar’s open, and we’ll be serving tea and coffee in the restaurant shortly. Please ladies and gentlemen, go inside. The party is over. Irene, meet the ambulance out front and show them here. No need for them to go through the building.”

The waitress dashed away.

“I’ll get Rose,” I said to Bernie. “Meet you inside.”

“Got it.”

Most people were sensibly leaving the gardens, but a handful of the curious—or maybe the ghoulish—remained, and I pushed my way through them. By the time I reached Rose’s table, Josh had arrived with his grandfather’s walker and was helping the old man to stand. “Never could hold their liquor, some of them,” Reggie said.

“I don’t think that’s the problem, Granddad.”

“Always a problem with the men in that family.”

In the hullabaloo, Rose’s cane had fallen to the floor. I scooped it up and handed it to her, and then I assisted her to stand. “Heart attack, do you think?” she said to me.

“Most likely,” I replied.

I couldn’t help throwing a glance over my shoulder as we walked away. I couldn’t see what was happening on the ground, nothing but the backs of the two women as they bent over Julien, doing what they could for him. That was a good sign, I thought—I hoped. Julien’s parents, Robert and Annabelle, stood a few feet away, their eyes wide and frightened. I couldn’t help but noticing that Carmela, Julien’s wife, stood apart from the rest of the family. Even as her husband lay on the ground in medical distress, no one’s instinct was to comfort her, and she did not seek their support.

“Does this man have any medical history we need to know about?” the medic called. “Medications? History of heart problems? Allergies?”

“I—I—” Robert said.

“Nuts,” Annabelle said. “My son is severely allergic to tree nuts.”

“Were nuts in any of the food served here?” Alicia asked.

“I wouldn’t think so,” Annabelle replied. “They don’t do that these days, do they?”

No one answered.

As we entered the house, the sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance, coming our way.