“How dare ye bring me that heavy red mug, as if I was a loutish crofter who couldn’t be trusted with the fine china?” demanded a shrill voice he knew to be his mother’s. “I said bring the Royal Doulton cup, and that’s what I’ll have, girl!” He heard footsteps, and a soft voice murmuring an apology. Senora Juana had just learned the importance of following Coira’s instructions exactly, he thought, wincing at the earliness of her harsh lesson. It wouldn’t surprise him if Senora Morales, jealously protective of her position in this strange household, had set the young widow up for failure by providing the exact opposite of what his mother had specified. The housekeeper’s constant threats to quit would hold less sway over the household if Juana seemed poised to take her place at a moment’s notice—hence the need to keep the newcomer in disgrace. The polite Juana would not have wanted to argue when the housekeeper had not complied with her relayed instructions, and the sound of splintering crockery was the inevitable result.
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