4th Time Lucky

#notmypeers Pressure

Katherine's brain was working overtime. This was so far out of her comfort zone she was half convinced it was a fever dream.

To her credit, Anya could design fashionable pieces that made all of the nobility swoon. At the Empress's tea that Friday afternoon, the ladies couldn't stop staring. They asked about the designer. The shop. The fabric. Even the simple gold earrings - long thin fine chains that dropped to her shoulders - were items to talk about.

If the attention on her wasn't due to a love for her ensemble, then maybe their attention was heightened by the newness of Katherine.

After a hundred questions about her clothes and hair and modest jewelry, they set themselves upon her life. Like chickens attacking a pile of feed, the Empress's friends pecked away at the minuscule details.

Katherine knew this game. They were waiting for a mistake. She'd dig her own grave and jump in if they had her talk long enough. Katherine knew the game; she had fallen through holes enough in her past life to steer the conversation clear of items too personal.

Politicking was exhausting. Surrounded by three high society ladies, plus the Empress, Katherine spent most of the conversation defending and deflecting.

On the bright side, Empress Amalia looked pleased.

Katherine was starting to feel like this event was hundreds of years long. Was this enough? How could she politely leave? Was excusing herself part of this weird nobility test/hazing?

She sipped her tea and marveled at how it was still hot. Her smile was frozen in place as the ladies circled other topics: the next ball (the Albrecht's), the newest it-couple (Denise Margritte and Dorian Mansfield - isn't it cute how their initials are the same?), the secret affairs (Lord Egret's three mistresses revealed). It was starting to feel like reading the headlines of a gossip leaflet.

"Miss Sachar, you're friends with the Marchioness, aren't you?" One of the ladies in pastel blue leaned forward to ask her question and add a sugar cube to the edge of her plate.

As if there weren't a dozen Marquis and their wives in this province. She blinked, adjusted her smile, and kept her mask in place. "I'm not sure which one you're referring to; I have many friends in society."

"You know, that stuffy one who thinks she owns the hospital," said the one in pastel green.

"Marchioness Forrest," the one in pink supplied. Of the three ladies, this one seemed the most reserved. It was almost calculating, the way she added one-liners to the conversation to steer it a certain way.

The Empress said nothing. Only watching.

"Yes, I know Marchioness Forrest."

Blue and Green exchanged a look. Red stared at her over the edge of the teacup. Unnerving.

"I heard she has a lover on the side; some Vanheer fellow that thinks he owns Main Street." Blue kept leaving forward, as if her spilling breasts would cause everyone's secrets to tumble out.

Maybe in the company of men they did.

Katherine's brain was tired, and she almost glossed over the name. As the last of her brain cells caught up, anxiety crept in.

"Made for each other," Green said flippantly. "She thinks she owns the hospital. He thinks he owns Main Street. It's a wonder her husband puts up with it."

"You know why, don't you?" Blue teased. "Marquis Forrest gets to invest in gentry business on the side, and he likes to watch, if you know what I mean."

Green was mock-offended. "Scandalous."

"So, Miss Sachar, can you tell us anything about this Vanheer fellow?"

Oh, yes. She could fill a library with what she knew about him.

The ladies had handed her a grenade. If she pulled the pin, the whole country could blow up. This could be a simple gossip test of her connections and willingness to throw a friend under the wagon to get ahead. This could also be layers of politics deep if they had the slightest hint what Vanheer was up to.

Her insides twisted as she wondered if Isadora was involved in Vanheer's revolution schemes. She hadn't been in her past lives - could her new connections to the Duke have changed Isadora's timeline?

The Empress's voice cut through Katherine's overclocked mind. "Miss Katherine? Eudora wanted to know if you could tell us about Mr.Vanheer."

"Never met him." Not in this lifetime. "I know he owns the northern half of Main, toward the hospital. It's possible that the Marchioness and he have crossed paths, given the amount of time that she spends at the hospital." Katherine paused to stare daggers at Green. "It was named after her father, so she has a vested interest in its success."

Hopefully that was enough for them to back off so she could talk to Isadora.

Blue/Eudora sat back, deflated. "Oh, that's too bad."

"If you'll excuse me, I've had a bit too much tea," Katherine said. She stood and brushed her skirts down, encouraging the gold ribbon to catch the light and distract these opportunistic feeders. "Where is the ladies room?"

A footman stepped out from the greenhouse foliage and bowed, beckoning her toward the door. Eudora and Green went back to talking among themselves, the Empress joining the conversation as she neared the door. The woman in pink kept watching Katherine until the door closed behind her.

Unnerving.