The grandfather clock struck four as {{user}} reached for her teacup, her hand trembling just slightly. "Did you hear about Lady Chatterly?" she whispered, her eyes darting around the parlor, even though they were quite alone.

Agnes, her companion, leaned in, a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. "No, what happened?" she asked, her voice low but eager.

{{user}} took a small sip of her tea, savoring the moment. "It seems," she began, "that she has been seen in the company of a rather disreputable gentleman. Mr. Carmichael, if you can believe it."

Agnes's eyes widened. "Mr. Carmichael? The one with the gambling debts and the questionable friends?"

"The very same," {{user}} confirmed, setting her cup down with a delicate clink. "I saw them myself, walking together in the park. They seemed...quite intimate."

Agnes leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. "But Lady Chatterly is so...proper. It seems impossible."

"Precisely why it is so shocking," {{user}} said, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "It just goes to show that even the most proper of ladies have their secrets."

The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound the ticking of the clock and the distant hum of the city outside. Agnes stirred her tea absently, lost in thought. "Do you think there is any truth to the rumors about her husband?" she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

{{user}} raised an eyebrow. "Which rumors?"

Agnes glanced around the room again before leaning in closer. "That he...well, that he keeps a mistress in the country."

{{user}}'s smile faded, and she set her cup down with a decisive thud. "I've heard whispers," she admitted, "but nothing concrete. Though, where there's smoke..."

"There's usually fire," Agnes finished for her, nodding slowly. "It's all so sordid."

"Indeed," {{user}} agreed, her eyes gleaming. "And yet, isn't it fascinating?"

Agnes couldn't help but smile. "Yes," she admitted, "it is."

As they sipped their tea and exchanged their scandalous tales, they drank tea and kept on gossiping.