The tantalizing aromas of freshly cooked breakfast now wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the lingering scent of tea and the subtle perfume of the manor's morning flowers. Just as Alexander was about to inquire further, a new set of footsteps echoed from the grand staircase – heavier, more hurried. Ethan Sterling, Alexander's younger brother, appeared, looking slightly dishevelled but with a mischievous grin. He padded directly into the kitchen, his eyes immediately finding Claire amidst the steam and sizzle.
"Well, well, well," Ethan drawled playfully, leaning against the doorframe, "look what the cat dragged in! Or rather, look what the amazing Chef Claire whipped up! Smells divine, sister-in-law!" He winked at Claire, a familiar, easygoing gesture that momentarily eased her tension. Claire, despite the underlying pressure, couldn't help but smile at his antics.
Soon, the preparations were complete. Claire, with Martha's silent and efficient assistance, carried the last of the dishes to the grand dining table. The table, usually a picture of formal elegance adorned with crystal and silver, now boasted a truly delightful and opulent array: perfectly poached Eggs Benedict glistening with hollandaise sauce, platters of thinly sliced smoked salmon with capers and dill, artisanal sausages, light-as-air Belgian waffles crowned with fresh berries and crème fraîche, and a vibrant bowl of exotic fruit salad. The spread was a testament to both skill and refined taste.
Grandpa Albert, ever the first to take his place at the head of the table, settled into his high-backed chair. He was a formidable figure in the Sterling family, his presence commanding respect, yet his heart held a deep-seated belief in matters of the heart over ledger books. He valued marriage not as a mere business alliance, but as a union that, when founded on genuine connection, truly brought success and happiness to a husband. He had been profoundly disappointed when Alexander's previous bride had unexpectedly run away, a scandal that threatened to tarnish the Sterling name. It was partly to avert further whispers that he had given his assent to Alexander's marriage to Claire, hoping for a stable, harmonious future. He surveyed the beautifully laid out food on the table, his expression unreadable, offering no immediate reaction.
Eleanor, on the other hand, made no effort to hide her displeasure. Her gaze swept over the breakfast spread, a faint, almost imperceptible wrinkle forming between her brows. The food looked perfectly appetizing, perhaps too perfect, almost as if it had been prepared by a seasoned professional rather than a new daughter-in-law. Beside her, Delilah also looked less than pleased, a slight pout on her lips. Across the table, Katherine, Delilah's mother and Eleanor's sister-in-law, exchanged a subtle, knowing glance with Eleanor – a shared understanding of their unspoken skepticism.
Alexander, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents, simply took his usual seat beside Claire. Claire, however, felt a knot of nervousness tighten in her stomach. Her gaze darted to Grandpa Albert, waiting for his first bite, her heart thumping a little faster.
Grandpa Albert picked up his fork. The room seemed to hold its breath, the clinking of cutlery suddenly absent. Everyone at the table, even Alexander, who usually dove straight into his meal, subtly paused, their eyes fixed on the patriarch. Grandpa took a small portion of the Eggs Benedict, bringing it slowly to his lips. He chewed thoughtfully, his expression unchanging. The silence stretched, thick with anticipation.
Then, a slow, contented smile spread across Grandpa Albert's face. "It was very good," he declared, his voice clear and resonant, a genuine warmth in his tone that left no room for doubt.
Eleanor's eyes widened in disbelief. She quickly reached for her own fork, scooping up a portion of the hollandaise-draped egg. She tasted it, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her features. It was good. More than good, it was perfectly seasoned, the egg yolk runny, the muffin toasted just right.
Alexander seeing the undeniable approval on Albert's face and the shock on his mother's, he picked up his own fork. He cut into his Eggs Benedict and began to eat with his usual hearty appetite, clearly savoring each bite. His relaxed enjoyment was a silent, powerful endorsement of Claire's skill.
Grandpa Albert didn't say much after his initial declaration, but his continued, silent consumption of the food spoke volumes. He ate steadily, with evident enjoyment, reaching for second helpings of the smoked salmon and waffles – a clear sign to everyone at the table that he genuinely liked what Claire had prepared.
Delilah, however, remained unconvinced. She eyed Claire sharply across the table, a hint of suspicion still lingering in her gaze. She pushed her food around her plate, eating very little, her displeasure still evident despite Grandpa Albert's praise and Alexander's obvious enjoyment.
As the last remnants of the surprisingly successful breakfast were cleared, the Sterling manor quickly transitioned into its usual morning rhythm. Grandpa Albert retreated to his study, the faint rustle of newspaper pages soon audible from behind its closed doors. Eleanor, with a dignified air, moved towards her private parlor, no doubt to attend to her correspondence and social engagements, a subtle tension still lingering about her.
Delilah, after barely touching her food, excused herself with a curt nod, her displeasure still palpable as she headed upstairs. Katherine followed, a knowing, almost conspiratorial glance exchanged with Eleanor before she disappeared.
Meanwhile, Alexander, having finished his meal with evident satisfaction, was already in the process of preparing for his day at the office. He emerged from his dressing room a few minutes later, impeccably tailored in a charcoal suit, his tie perfectly knotted. His movements were swift and purposeful, a clear indication of his busy schedule.
He found Claire in the kitchen, engaged in a quiet conversation with Martha. Claire was discussing the morning's menu, perhaps offering a few tips or simply expressing her appreciation for Martha's assistance. The kitchen, now mostly cleared, still held the faint, pleasant scent of the breakfast Claire had prepared.
Alexander paused at the kitchen doorway, his voice cutting through their low murmurs with an air of casual authority. "Mr. Hart will pick you up later in the evening," he announced, his gaze briefly meeting Claire's before he turned to leave. He offered no further explanation, no inquiry into her plans, simply delivering the information as a directive. Without waiting for Claire's response, or even a nod of acknowledgment, he pivoted sharply and strode out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing confidently down the hall towards the main entrance, leaving Claire to ponder the unexpected arrangement.
As she left the kitchen, intending to head to her room to gather her thoughts, she found her path unexpectedly blocked. Delilah stood directly in her way in the hallway, her arms crossed, a sneer twisting her usually composed features. Delilah's eyes, sharp and cold, raked over Claire's simple but elegant morning dress.
"Well, well, " Delilah began, her voice dripping with disdain, "look at the little chef. Don't think a few fancy eggs are going to make you one of us, Claire. You're still just a... commoner playing dress-up in our home." Her words were delivered with a dismissive flick of her wrist, clearly designed to wound.
Claire's jaw tightened. She met Delilah's gaze, but instead of responding to the petty insult, she simply shifted her weight, a subtle movement indicating her intention to walk past. She wasn't going to dignify such childishness with a reply.
Delilah's face flushed with a sudden, intense anger at being so pointedly ignored. Her eyes narrowed, and her voice rose, losing its carefully cultivated disdain and revealing raw fury. "Oh, so you're going to pretend you didn't hear me, are you? Don't you think I didn't know about your secret relationship with Zane?" The mention of Zane's name, spat out with venom, hit Claire like a cold splash of water, far more potent than the initial insult.
Claire's heart gave a jolt, but she quickly recovered, her initial surprise giving way to a surge of indignation. She straightened her shoulders, refusing to cower. "What are you talking about, Delilah?" Claire retorted, her voice firm, though a tremor of anger ran beneath it. "Zane is just my childhood friend. There's no 'secret relationship'!" She emphasized the words, her gaze unwavering.
Delilah's anger flared even brighter, fueled by a deep-seated resentment. For years, Delilah had harbored a quiet, unrequited fancy for Zane. She had tried, subtly and not so subtly, to win his affection, only to be consistently, if kindly, kept in the "friend zone." Then, a few weeks prior, a casual encounter had turned into a painful discovery: Delilah had accidentally stumbled upon a small, faded photo of Claire tucked away in Zane's wallet. It was a casual, laughing snapshot of the two of them from years ago, but to Delilah, it had been a confirmation of a bond she couldn't comprehend, a bond that felt threatening and exclusive. This discovery had solidified her hatred for Claire. Moreover, Claire's seemingly effortless integration into the Sterling family, her unexpected success at breakfast, and the attention she received, felt like an invasion. Delilah felt Claire was taking a huge, undeserved place in her family, and it made her anger run wild.
"Oh, please," Delilah scoffed, ignoring Claire's denial, her voice rising slightly. "Don't play innocent. You think you can just waltz in here, charm Grandpa with a few eggs, and pretend you're one of us? You're nothing but a conniving social climber, and I won't let you ruin this family!"
"Enough, Delilah!" Claire interrupted, her voice cutting through the air, sharp and clear. "I have no idea what you're talking about, and I won't stand here and be slandered. If you have something to say, say it clearly, or don't say it at all!" Claire's eyes flashed, her composure now replaced by a steely resolve. She wasn't going to let Delilah's baseless accusations or simmering resentment ruin her day, or her nascent place in this house. The hallway, usually a quiet passage, now hummed with the bitter tension of their open conflict.