☾
𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸

Mr Elsner had an indubitable way of speaking. No one knew it or would ever dare mentioning it in fears of besmirching his respectable reputation. But he was sure that there was always a latent threat from those beneath board. He felt like they would rise against him at an imaginable moment. In thinking it, he was rather big-headed. Perhaps no one had told him that complacency was a sure sign of a person who shouldn't be trusted. Then again, it seemed that Anna had never been taught that either.

He smiled down at her, his face kind like an old librarian smiling down at a young girl with pig tails and bright, curious eyes. He was younger than Robert, she noticed, his cinnamon coloured hair not yet close to greying, but older than the women in the dining hall, as his eyes showed signs of ageing, as the smooth skin creased as he smiled. Mr Elsner nodded politely, beckoning her to follow as he moved down the walkway, opposite to the way that Robert had been taken.

Anna looked nervously between the smiling man and the empty space where Robert had stood. They had been separated, and she couldn't help but wonder why. She felt alone and unsure of what to do.

Mr Elsner turned back to her. "You look like you haven't eaten. We can get you both a plate."

Anna nodded, before stepping forward cautiously. The idea of food warmed her stomach despite having consumed half a portion of fish and chips only half and hour ago. Although they had both been mentioned, Robert didn't appear again from around the corner and Anna was instead walking back toward the dining hall alone behind the man.

He must have thought she was an upstairs passanger, surely, she thought. Why else would he be leading her to a plate of food and smiling to her with such an air of cordiality? But that couldn't be true. She was wearing tatters after all, and her face was thick with muck. Mr Elsner also seemed too prosperous to be fooled by a girl like her. He wore a handsome blazer and a smart kind of hat that she couldn't even name.

They entered the dining hall, weaving through the different tables that she had looked at not so long ago. Her hands trailed across the fabric that coated them, the expensive stitching feeling smooth to her touch. Mr Elsner stopped abruptly, turning to gesture at a long table covered every inch by plates of food.

There were plates that held strange slobs of foods that she had never seen before, plates of eggs still steaming with heat and plates of bacon piled so high that they could topple down any moment. Her mouth was watering again, the scent it all overcoming her control.

"Take what you like, please," the man insisted, nudging his hands toward the table.

She looked up to him in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course." He nodded, watching as she moved gradually across the table to take a small plate into her hands.

She filled it with buttery bread and scrambled eggs, piling on top of it pieces of salty meat. Anna almost gasped in want as she saw the lump of breakfast muffins, just like the ones Will would steal for her in Stafford.

As her plate couldn't be piled with anything more, Mr Elsner lead her across the dining room, with Anna walking slowly her hands glued to the wobbling plate and eyes to the floor in front. They stopped with a short stomp, as he slid away from in front of her, revealing the view of a table of older women, all turned to look at her with beady eyes and a harsh, unimpressed glare.

"This is Mrs Lightwood, Miss Bennet and Mrs Brandon. They will be able to give you company while you eat, Miss..." he trailed off.

"Anna."

She nodded, her eyes still glancing to the floor. It was carpeted cleanly, and she could feel the softness of the material even through her hard, scuffed shoes. She refused to use the last name that she had been given as a child. It felt almost like a crime, like she was giving away the last thing that she remembered about her mother, and she couldn't lose that yet. Not when she still had hope.

"Can't I sit with Robert?" She asked, but her question was ignored as Mr Elsner urged her to the table before glancing hurriedly to his watch.

"Miss Anna, right. Mrs Lightwood would love the company. I have business to attend to about the boats, affairs, if you'll excuse me."

He was gone without a word more said and Anna was left standing by the table, the eyes of the three women burning holes into the side of her face. She blinked, gazing across the room as if she didn't feel the weight of awkwardness hanging on her shoulders and pinching at her cheeks, flushing them a deep red.

"Well, sit down girl," the oldest woman snapped at her, glaring at her movements as Anna sat in the only spare seat beside her.

Mrs Lightwood, as she had caught the name, was the oldest on the table, of about seventy years. Though she didn't look a day over it, with her deep wrinkles grey hair. But Anna would even call her pretty, despite the cold stare on her face, as her cheeks were flushed a youthful pink and her eyes still sparkled with a mischievous and intriguing glint, that reminded her of Josephine.

"Miss Anna, no last name?" She asked.

"No, just Anna."

"Give me a look." Mrs Lightwood snatched her face into her hands, her long, painted nails digging crescents into her pale skin. "Pretty face, pretty eyes too. You'd be good after a scrub."

"Excuse me?" Anna's jaw dropped open, as she pulled her face away.

"The filth Mr Elsner brings to our table sometimes..."

It was almost as if the woman was upset by it, her eyes cast down as she spoke the words. But as soon as the emotion was recognised by Anna, they were gone, replaced by a hardened jaw and a quick, sharp flit of the eyes.

"I thank the Lord we aren't blood related," she said.

"But you're still related?"

Mrs Lightwood glared at the question, before she willingly answered, "yes, he is my son-in-law, married to my eldest daughter. Though I don't know what they saw in each other."

"Mutual ambition, I would say." The other woman to the side of Anna spoke up.

"Good thing no one asked you, Mrs Brandon."

Though Mrs Lightwood had the gaze of an old woman, that screamed her disapproval, Mrs Brandon had the eyes of a snake, constantly narrowed and scrutinising the people around her. She scared Anna, with her sharp tongue and pointed nose that was too large for her to be able to look down. Even her lips were held in a torturous hold, constantly puckered, down turned and bitten.

"But I hear Mrs Elsner is making fine work of the business in Australia-" The last of the three women spoke, before being interrupted by Mrs Lightwood.

"Miss Bennet must we always talk about Irene, please," she said, her eyes looking more fatigued at the mention of her daughter rather than pleased. "Make good conversation with our guest of the table."

Anna hadn't took notice of the woman until she had spoke. She was much younger than the other two, at what Anna could guess as thirty years old, but she held a dazed look, as if her head was in a constant day dream, that made her look more like a child than an adult. She had lots of baby hairs too, that whipped out at the side, her light brown hair showing no signs of ageing. Miss Bennet smiled at the suggestion, leaning forward to speak to her, the words coming out as if she was speaking to a baby.

"Oh. Why are you going to Australia?"

Mrs Lightwood sighed gratingly, her eyes shutting for a moment. She turned in her sweet swiftly, waving her hand in the air as she called for a waitress to serve her.

"Tea, we need tea!" She called, her voice jarringly high pitched.

As the waitress returned with a tray of a teapot and four cups, Mrs Lightwood turned to Anna. "I've been in need of practicing my leaf reading."

"You read tea cups?" Anna asked, her eyebrows raising. She had heard of the practice many times, but had never seen it for herself.

"Yes, child, quite well too."

Mrs Lightwood poured the tea and handed it to her. Her withered fingers held tightly to the wobbly tea cup until ik was put down in place, her shaky touch being replaced by the slim fingers of Anna. The warmth of the drink settled down her hands and through to her arms, sending goosebumps to the surface. It felt like sitting by a fire in comparison to the icy air below deck.

"Drink up," Mrs Lightwood urged as she saw her sitting with her hands wrapped around it, her eyes staring down at the liquid.

The tea was much too bitter. It tasted like the dirt she would undoubtedly inhale every time she attempted to play football in the street with Josephine and the boys that lived two doors down. Though she couldn't imagine the women drinking anything sweet. It didn't seem to be in their nature.

After they had drained the tea from their cups, through lots of arguments on Mrs Brandon's side, Mrs Lightwood gathered them in front of her on her lace handkerchief. She lifted the first pink tea cup, tilting it toward herself with a narrowed eye.

"Who's cup is this?" Miss Bennet held her hand up.

"Your travels will be comfortable and uninterrupted," Mrs Lightwood said with a smile.

Miss Bennet clapped her hands happily before retrieving the cup. Anna peered into it, looking at the lump of tea leave that had amassed in the bottom of it. She could see nothing in it, or well nothing that could pertain to travel. Instead, the dregs of tea formed a bird like shape, with what looked like long angel wings, unfurled to their full length on its back. A swan, surely. Marriage.

"Who's cup is this?"

Mrs Lightwood held Anna's cup and she raised her hand, receiving a nod from the old woman before she peered into her cup. It only took a few seconds for her to work out the image in the cup.

"A feather," she decided. "Good news may come your way."

Anna took the cup back into her own hands and held it her eyes. Sure enough, as clear as the day sky out the window, a feather lay at the bottom of her cup. She smiled hopefully.

"Oh, how delightful!" Miss Bennet exclaimed, clapping her hands together in front of her once again, a beam brightening her face.

Anna felt that the tea leaves had pointed them to the truth. She could feel the righteousness behind their meanings. Perhaps she was just being hopeful that good news would come her way, or maybe it was the memory of her mother telling her they were accurate.

"My mother used to read tea leaves a long time ago," Anna said, pulling her face away from the cup and setting it down in front of her.

"And did she hold a seance too?" Mrs Brandon said with a sneer.

"She might've," Anna replied in a small voice.

"Dear Lord, child. Do not compare this to the Gypsy curses." Mrs Brandon looked toward her with a horrified glance, as if she had just been insulted by Anna's mere mention of her mother. "We do it the proper way, the Victorian way, don't we ladies."

"Yes, quite," Miss Bennet agreed, though it seemed she didn't know what to.

"Marvellous times, those were. We could learn so much from her generation." Mrs Lightwood replied, her eyes sending a disapproving glance toward her friend.

"Beautiful dresses, nothing like the short disasters that girls run about in these days." Despite the look from Mrs Lightwood, Mrs Brandon continued on with her cold words.

"Oh, how dreadful," Miss Bennet chimed in."

"Though even those would be better than the rags on her." Mrs Brandon picked at her skirt, wiping at a cloth after touching it, as if it had flaked dirt at the touch. Though it probably had.

"How long have you been in those, girl?" Mrs Lightwood asked, once again giving her dress a once over, her voice void of emotion.

"I'm not sure. A while," she answered, feeling her hands wrap in the tattered material for comfort.

"Truly dreadful. We must have a spare brought for you." Mrs Lightwood said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

☾