CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY NINE – THE TEA PARTY

The kitchen was a flurry of activity, with maids scurrying about like ants on a disturbed mound. Charlotte rolled up her sleeves, surveying the ingredients laid out before her. Lady Griffith's silver tea service gleamed on the counter, awaiting the perfect accompaniment – light, flaky scones, a hallmark of the Griffith household. "Charlotte, might I assist you?" Betsy, a wide-eyed maid, piped up. Her eagerness was palpable, and Charlotte forced a polite smile. "That would be wonderful, Betsy. Why don't you measure out the baking powder?" Betsy nodded vigorously, snatching up the tin. Charlotte turned her attention to the flour, meticulously sifting it into the bowl. A heavy thud made her whirl around. Betsy stood frozen, the baking powder tin lying at her feet, its contents spilled across the floor in a billowing cloud. "Betsy! What on earth happened?" Charlotte cried, waving away the chalky haze. "I'm so dreadfully sorry, Miss Charlotte!" Betsy squeaked, her face crimson. "It sli