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 had 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, so she hopes she can manage to silence it in her own household. She didn't need Mrs. Davies or Lady Henry to think that Eliza finds it appropriate to storm across the estate in a bathrobe, demanding to see her indisposed beau. That it simply was a moment of insanity and would not happen again. 

When she rounds the corner into the dining room, she finds Margaret with a teacup up to her pink lips as her eyes wander over a letter pinched in her fingers. Not wishing to disturb, she quietly strides over to the buffet to see what has been left out for breakfast. 

"They'll serve you, my dear," Margaret says, with her eyes still glued to her correspondence. "Come sit." Eliza nods before doing as she's told. She drops onto the dark wooden chair, covered in a silk cushion and a servent materializes to ask coffee or tea? Eliza is already fidgety from her anxiety so she opts for tea with toast and jam. 

The room is silent, so the liquid pouring from the ceramic spout is all Eliza can focus on. She watches the steam from her cup spiral into the air, waiting for Margaret to begin the anxiously awaited conversation. The letter seems to span multiple pages, so she reaches for the blackberry jam to slather over her lightly toasted bread as Margaret drops the second page onto the cream table cloth. 

Eliza does not wish to crunch into her breakfast, so when her plate is dropped in front of her, she hesitates lifting her knife. How disruptive would she be to clank the knife into the glass jam bowl and then onto the bread? Margaret then having to listen to her scrape and chew. How much patience does Colin's aunt still have for the young bride?

Margaret finally drops the last page onto the table and then flits her gaze to Eliza, "Are you waiting for the toast to jump into your mouth?"

Eliza's eyes dart to her untouched breakfast and then replies, "I did not wish to disturb you." Margaret waves her dainty hand into the air before replying, "Carry on, girl. If I had wished to read in silence, I would have left to the study." After being granted permission, Eliza starts munching on her toast which allows Margaret to add, "Have you recovered from your evening in the woods?" 

She nods before reaching for her teacup, "More than I have recovered from my mishap at tea." Eliza doesn't miss the grin that tugs at the older woman's lips, but it vanishes quickly. 

"Ah yes. The matter with Miss Cameron should be discussed, even if my nephew claims that 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 be in the vicinity?" Eliza counters, trying to calm herself. 

"She claims to be an honored guest of Mr. Hartwig, which says enough about her right there," Margaret mutters, disapproving of the harlot. "But even so, she arrived at the Whitman's sans an invitation and appeared to cause a scuffle with the new marchioness. Her behavior may have been a bit more appalling than yours if such a thing is even possible." Eliza darts her eyes away, suddenly interested in pinching the cloth napkin in her lap. Her gaze is still on her hands when she says, "She came to tea to find me. To inform me that she intends on being established as Colin's mistress." 

"I beg your pardon?" Margaret snaps, forcing Eliza to look at her. "Is that what happened in the garden?" 

She nods, "She was flirtatious at the sèance 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...offputting."

Margaret lets 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 do not want my stay here to start off with a bang," Eliza huffs, still pulling at her napkin. 

"Eliza, I think you should come out with more of a bang!" Margaret says with 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 has never been a strength of mine I admit," Eliza answers, her cheeks rosy and flushed. "Being thrust into rooms full of strangers unnerves me. I fear ugly rumors swirl around me in London and the whispers of strangers who all seem to know me have caused me to keep to myself."

"We need to change that dear," Margaret tells 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 tries not to laugh at the visual. She forces her hands to stop moving and sighs. 

"How should I deal with this? Appropriately. Colin already said he has no desire to see that woman again in his life," Eliza asks plainly. Margaret purses her lips and waits for the servant to clear the empty plate that sits in front of her. Her hand rests on the table, bobbing as she thinks 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 says and Eliza realizes she knows that Cecilia trespassed last night. That 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 admits and then plucks her teacup into her fingers. 

"Now, we have other matters to discuss besides Miss Cameron," Margaret tells her, sweeping the bad name out of the room with a swipe of her hand. "I just received word from my sister. They are on schedule and will be here by sundown Friday. The ball is on Saturday and there is much to prepare for." Eliza nods in agreement before Margaret adds, "However, I do not want your last appearance before the ball to be tainted with the sordid business in the garden. So, I had thought, since Miss Margot Whitsett is about your age and also about to come out in society, that you two might start to spend a bit of time together. She knows and is on good terms with the other local women and it might do you some good to spend time with ladies of similar age and interests. I know Colin likes to hold your attention, but I think it's wise for you to be a bit more social." 

"I had quite enjoyed Margot yesterday," Eliza confesses, "I think I would enjoy having her as an acquaintance." Margot had a certain mischief in her eye that reminded Eliza of Penelope. An ease about her that made Eliza feel more comfortable.

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

Eliza lets out a breathy "Ha!" before adding "I am the last person Margot wishes to take advice from on that subject."

"I'd have thought you an expert. Did you not attend three seasons? And end up engaged to a marquess?"

"Dumb luck and murder led me to Colin. It was not a fancy dress and waltzing around a ballroom that led to my engagement," she replies, wondering if she and Colin would have spoken if they would have found themselves at a ball together. Then she remembers yelling at him at the one they did attend and flushes with regret. 

"Oh my, well please keep the whole murder bit out of the conversation. Maybe stick to the fashion and dancing if you would," Margaret replies with a grimace. She draws her teacup up again to hide her frown and Eliza wonders if she's capable of having an entire conversation centered around dresses and dances she never partook in. She agrees to try, missing companionship and 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 was always filled. Eliza used to watch her flirtatious friend's lashes lower as she flitted a fan to cover her devilish smirk when men found her tucked in a corner. Balls were easy for Penelope. She supposes that she could draw on her friend's experiences when speaking with Margot. 

"I'll see to Margot," Eliza says as she stands from her chair. "I'll do what I must to be more...social." Margaret smiles at her, glad to have her advice taken. 

"Have fun," Margaret tells her before she exits the dining room.