The Sugar Lady

—Oh mother, I already understand!—Adelaïde grumbled, looking at her mother.

—You’ll get wrinkles from being so angry, calm yourself —she admitted, and then sat down on the oak wooden chair with French ornaments of a pearly white color.

—You drive me out of my mind, Adelaïde!—saidCatherine Jeanette Howard-Montclair. —You are no longer a child to behave like one. You are already of age to find a good husband— She pressed her temple while sitting in front of her.

She was an elegant and proper woman in every sense, even in the way she expressed herself when she was angry.

—My dear, you know very well that a young lady must not involve herself in things that could damage her image —she admitted with weariness— You spend all hours of the day in the kitchen, and a young lady like you should not be doing such things. That is what the servants are for, Adelaïde.

—But mother, I know I am of age to marry, yet I would like to wait a little longer. Please— Adelaïde said while delicately taking her mother’s hand.

—Mother, I know you want the best for me, just like father does. I assure you I will try to spend fewer hours in the kitchen and not talk so much with the servants— she said with calm certainty, trying to temper her dear mother’s characteristic temperament.

—Very well, Adelaïde. But if I discover you continue with your fanaticism for desserts... I will not hesitate to marry you off to some old and foul-smelling gentleman —she admitted with a tone of warning in her words.

Adelaïde placed her right hand over her chest, where her heart rested.

—Yes... yes... yes, mother. I swear.

She stood quickly and approached her mother, gently rubbing her back.

—Mother, do not worry. Perhaps we could spend some time together having tea, with your favorite dessert, just as my dear and beautiful mother likes. And you can tell me in more detail about the scandal of theCountess of Whitethorn.

—Very well —she admitted, as though she had just lost the argument— But let it be the black tea your father brought from his travels. Too many sweets make me nauseous.

—And as I was telling you, after the death of her husband she recently remarried, to her very “young husband.” While they were at the Spring Fair, she was seen walking with her gallant companion when they were suddenly interrupted byLord Ashbourne, who declared before the entire public that the Countess had proposed marriage to him first.

And the worst of it is that, to prove it, he waved one of her handkerchiefs, which she had undoubtedly given him months before marrying her current husband.

Then the young husband challenged Lord Ashbourne to a duel. They will fight tomorrow, even though everyone knows such things are strictly forbidden. Well... it seems the Countess is what people politely call a very “romantic” woman —she rolled her eyes with a hint of irony, awaiting an acceptable response from her daughter.

—Perhaps God blessed her with such a great heart that she has enough to give a piece to everyone, mother.

Adelaïde burst into laughter, lowering her head onto the tea room table.

Catherine laughed lightly, with great delicacy.

—Adelaïde, a lady like you should not behave in that manner. Sit properly... upright, my dear... firm... and delicate... like a beautiful flower.

—Yesssss, mother. You always tell me that.

Without raising her voice, Catherine extended her gloved hand.

She gently pulled the golden cord.

In the kitchen, a bell rang marked:Drawing Room.

A maid quickly appeared.

—What do you wish, My Lady?

Catherine observed the maid carefully.

—Serve freshly infused black tea, with accompaniments: a raspberry tartlet and a mille-feuille. Please do not take too long.

—Adelaïde, are you interested in any gentleman?

—Mother, don’t begin... You know very well I only go out when I am with you and father. Do you truly believe I would be looking at any gentlemen?

Adelaïde could hardly remember the last time she had gone out with a gentleman who was not her little brother. The only thing she knew with certainty was that it had been many years ago, when she was still small and her mother brought her to tea invitations where she had to play with children her own age.

—Besides, father said he brought me something interesting from his trip to theGold Coast.

—Oh your father... he fills your head with more incoherent ideas instead of finding a proper husband for his daughter. Who can understand him... always traveling...

Moments later, the door opened with silent precision.

The maid entered carrying a spotless silver tray. Upon the fine porcelain rested the black teapot, still steaming. Alongside it were delicatetartelettes aux framboisesand perfectly cut portions ofmille-feuille.

The tray was set down softly.

—The black tea, My Lady.

The mother barely nodded.

—Serve.

The dark liquid poured into the cup with a delicate sound. The intense aroma of Assam tea filled the air, deep and elegant.

The mother took the cup, but did not drink.

She observed the desserts.

Then she looked at her daughter.

—Were these made by you?

The young woman held her gaze for a few seconds, though her heart beat strongly.

—Yes, mother.

Silence.

The teaspoon gently touched the porcelain.

—I have told you more than once that a young lady of our lineage does not waste her time between flour and sugar.

The daughter lowered her gaze, but her hands did not tremble.

—It is not a waste of time, mother. Besides, father agrees.

The woman’s gaze grew colder.

—It is improper. Your father has no opinion in this matter.

She placed the cup back on the saucer.

—You will not do it again.

The young woman pressed her fingers against the fabric of her dress. The sweet scent of raspberry seemed to challenge the command.

—Yes, mother —she finally said, taking a sip of the black tea from the fine porcelain cup.

When she finished, she bowed slightly.

—Mother, I shall retire.

She left the tea room and sighed, adjusting the loose strands of her brown hair. As she walked through the corridors of the distinguished family home, she saw her father in the distance and ran as fast as her voluminous dress allowed.

—Father, you have returned!

She embraced him tightly.

—This time I took a little longer, because I brought you a crate of fruit that will be useful for your delicious desserts. Why don’t you look at it and tell me later if you liked it —saidFrederickto his beloved eldest daughter.

—The crate of fruit is in the main hall. Do you know where your mother is?

—She is in the tea room... still angry.

—She discovered you cooking, didn’t she?

—Yes, father —she wrinkled the skirt of her dress.

—You know your mother does not like it. But your father still has his charms. I will try to distract her.

—Thank you, father.

She ran down the stairs quickly, staring anxiously at the wooden crate.

What could possibly be inside it?

Frederick watched his daughter descend the stairs with excitement, just like when she was a child and he returned with marvelous things from his travels. He walked through the corridor and stopped before the tea room door.

He smiled.

He entered the room and saw his wife drinking tea. Though she still appeared angry from the crease on her forehead, she remained an elegant and composed lady.

He approached slowly with the slightest intention of making noise.

—What a beautiful headdress. It makes your lovely hair shine.

—Thank you. My personal maid said it suited me very well —she replied calmly while taking a sip of tea.

Hearing the familiar tone of voice, she turned quickly.

There stood her husband, smiling.

—Mon amour, ton mari t’a tellement manqué. Et toi, tu lui as manqué aussi ?

(My love, your husband missed you so much. And did you miss him too?)

—You should trim that beard, Frederick.

With her spoon she took a piece of mille-feuille.

Frederick stood before Catherine and extended his right hand.

—My lady, would you accept this dance?

Catherine looked at him while sipping her tea. She gently set the porcelain cup on the table, extended her hand, and clasped his. She smiled faintly.

When she stood, Frederick held her firmly yet with subtle gentleness.

They began to dance across the tea room.

—You are still as beautiful as the first time I saw you.

—And you are still the same, Frederick.

He laughed.

—Je t’aime aussi.

At the end of the brief dance he gave her a light kiss on the lips.

Suddenly the door burst open.

—MOTHEEER!—Henry shouted loudly.

Seeing the intimate moment between his parents, he quickly shut the door again.

—Sorry... I’ll come back later —he said awkwardly from the other side.

Catherine quickly stepped away.

—You will keep traveling, Frederick? —she said abruptly, trying to change the subject.

—I’ll travel less, my dear —he admitted— And the journeys will be shorter.

—You do not need to worry about me.

He embraced her tightly, placing his arms around her waist and gently stroking her jet-black hair streaked with gray.

—Frederick, do not touch my hair —she raised her voice slightly.

—Yes... yes... yes, my dear. I won’t do it again. Just let me hold you a little longer.

Suddenly he leaned her back to kiss her more passionately—but failing to hold her properly, he accidentally dropped her onto the cold polished floor.

—FREDERICK!

Her shout startled the birds outside the window and echoed throughout the house.

Adelaïde, hearing her mother’s voice, dropped the reddish-brown spherical fruit she had been holding among the others.

She had never seen such fruit anywhere in the country.

Meanwhile, in the corridor where servants cleaned and arranged the house, one approached her.

—What kind of fruit is this, Miss Adelaïde? I have never seen one like it.

—Bring me a knife. Its surface is rough. We must discover what is inside.

A few minutes later the maid returned with the knife on a tray.

Adelaïde cut the fruit open.

Inside were many seeds covered in a whitish, viscous pulp.

She carried the fruit to the kitchen and placed the tray upon the wooden table. Carefully she removed each seed and placed them into a copper bowl, sharing them with the kitchen servants.

When they tasted them, a sweet-acid freshness filled their mouths.

The cocoa pod, split perfectly in half, rested upon a silver tray.

But when Adelaïde stepped into the kitchen, her expression changed.

There she smiled differently.

Without ceremony.

—I’ve come to rescue you from boredom —she announced with a half laugh.

Tomás looked up.

—Another of your sweet adventures, Adelaide?

—Not “Miss.” Just Adelaide.

She never corrected him.

—This time I may fail —she admitted, removing her gloves— so I will need accomplices.

Mary approached curiously.

—What is that strange thing so decorated for ending up here among smoke and ladles?

Adelaide lifted half the pod.

—It is called cocoa. It comes from very far away. Father said from the Gold Coast.

—It looks full of little white creatures —Inés said.

—The pulp is only one layer. The most important thing is the seed —Adelaide confessed with a laugh.

She began removing the seeds and letting them fall into the copper bowl.

—Come closer —she said— It does not bite.

María was the first to try it.

—It is pleasant... more than I expected.

—You see? I do not try to poison you.

Tomás tasted his.

—It is a bit acidic... but refreshing.

Adelaide watched them not as a superior, but as a companion in mischief.

—It does not taste like dessert... yet.

Leonor smiled.

—You are already planning to turn it into something.

—Always. What would life be if we did not try to make it sweeter?

She then explained:

—The dark part of the seed becomes the famouschocolate. It is not produced in great quantities because the process is long. The seed is the most valuable part.

Then she smiled conspiratorially.

—We will make chocolate... and improve it to the fullest. But my mother must never know.