The Tea Machine by Gill McKnight Read Free Book Online

yellow.”
    “Excuse me. Coloured eggs? But why?”
    “It’s for Easter. I want to send a basket of boiled eggs to the orphanage.”
    “To constipate the orphans?”
    “Really, Millicent. You’re such a curmudgeon. It’s called charity, and it’s all the rage. All the most modish ladies are doing it.” Sophia tut-tutted as if Millicent were being deliberately dense. “Why, the Partridge sisters are sending Easter posies to the lepers.”
    “We have lepers? In London?”
    “Well, somewhere out in Hampshire.” Sophia waved a hand vaguely in the direction she assumed Hampshire to be. “Or maybe its amputees? Yes, amputees. Anyway, they’re getting flowers, and the orphans are getting coloured eggs. It will all be so merry.”
    “Hardly. Those children live in the poorhouse, Sophia. It is only called an orphanage because they have been forcibly removed from their parents. They troop down to the workhouse each morning to begin a fourteen-hour shift at the looms. It would be more charitable to challenge what is really no more than child slavery than to send them coloured eggs.” Millicent warmed to her subject, hoping Sophia’s new charitable interests might be channelled towards a greater purpose. “I am attending a meeting at the Creswell reading rooms this evening. The primary agenda is child exploitation and strategizing social action to protest against it. Why not come with me?” Millicent was most eager now. Finally, here was an interest she and Sophia could bond over. At last they had something in common.
    Sophia snapped closed the pearl buttons on her gloves and wriggled her fingers to settle the calfskin comfortably around them. The rattle of china came closer from along the hallway. Edna was approaching with the eleven o’clock tea tray. Millicent wondered if she should invite Sophia join her and Hubert for tea so they could talk more about possible social action, but decided not to. Hubert would have a spasm if Sophia appeared in his laboratory.
    “Remember, pink, yellow, and blue,” Sophia said. “I’m attending church with the Partridge sisters this Sunday, so I’ll need them by then.” She hefted her parasol onto her shoulder and left in a flurry of philanthropy. Millicent bristled. Her offer of a social conscience had been brushed aside. She should have known better.
    “Two dozen eggs for 140 children. How will they decide who gets the protein?” Millicent called after her, but the door closed sharply on her question.
    “I have the master’s tea tray, Miss Millicent.” Edna appeared before her and wobbled into an unnecessary and ungainly curtsey. The tray tipped precariously, and the china rattled alarmingly. Millicent grabbed the tray from Edna’s panicked grasp.
    “Thank you, Edna. Remember our rule? No curtsies while you are holding things. Now, Miss Sophia has organized a delivery of eggs. Ask Cook to boil them, please.”
    “Yes, Miss. I’ll tell her.”
    “And could you dye the shells, Edna.”
    “Dye the shells, Miss?” Edna looked as agitated as she was mystified. “How? I mean what colour, Miss?” She sounded very unhappy with the task.
    “Drop them in a bucket of beetroot water. Red will do splendidly.”
    Edna wandered back to the kitchen looking as perplexed as ever. With a sigh, Millicent headed for Hubert’s laboratory, tea tray in hand. She tapped at his door with the toe of her shoe on the last chime of eleven o’clock. All was well. The morning ritual, with all its continuity, had been rescued.
    “Come,” Hubert called cheerfully. Millicent used her elbow to tip the handle and pushed the door open with her hip. It swung wide to reveal Hubert’s sanctuary, a sober, high-ceilinged room. Under Hubert’s tenancy, the bookshelves burgeoned with scientific apparatus, intricate engineering models, and all sorts of wonderful gewgaws. These shared the mahogany shelving alongside large leather tomes and bound periodicals. The floor, and nearly every other