The Enigmatic Rake. Anne O'Brien

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СКАЧАТЬ Alter some of the ingredients if necessary. And if we give them their French title … Millington can be sure to tell the Countess when she asks, as she most assuredly will. And since his lordship has placed no restrictions on our expenditure, then I suggest that money should be no object!’

      ‘Well … If you think so …’ A competitive spark had entered the cook’s eye.

      ‘I do. We have something to prove here. We will also, I suggest, serve it à la française, with the dishes arranged in the middle of the table so that the guests help themselves and then pass them on to their fellow guests. Very fashionable in the greatest houses, I understand, and highly inconvenient for those who wish to sample a dish from the far end of the table, but if that is what her ladyship wishes …’ A wicked little smile crossed Sarah’s face as she contemplated the possibilities. ‘What’s more, I shall write out the menu, à la française, which will be highly uncomfortable for everyone if they do not recognise the dishes. Haute cuisine is what she demanded, so haute cuisine is what she will get. Whatever happens, we do not want one of the Countess of Wexford’s creatures lording it over this kitchen.’

      ‘Certainly not.’ The agreement was unanimous.

      So they would do it. The servants’ hall declared war. The result was a positive tour de force. A French banquet in exemplary fashion, served by Millington and the footmen with style and panache. The guests were impressed beyond measure. Millington, when asked, wielded French phrases as expertly as Mrs Beddows wielded her boning knife. The turbot à l’Anglaise (turbot without lobster sauce) was mouthwatering, the noix de veau à la jardinière (veal with fresh vegetables) exquisite, the côte de boeuf aux oignons glaces (roast beef garnished with glazed onions) a perfect dish, the meat cooked to a tender delight. As for the petits soufflés d’abricots—one of a handful of memorable desserts—what could one say? Olivia Wexford’s guests could not but be impressed.

      The results were beyond expectation. Lord Joshua sent his compliments and words of approval to his housekeeper and cook with suave and amused appreciation. Never had he been host to so fine a banquet in his own home. Not a vestige of a grin was allowed to warm his stern features as he recognised Mrs Russell’s throwing down of a culinary gauntlet. It had certainly added an element of tension and comment to an otherwise tedious evening. A frisson of sheer pleasure.

      The servants, flushed with effort and triumph, ate well from the left-overs and probably would do so for days. It was a pleasure to toast the achievements of Mrs Russell and Mrs Beddows in the half-dozen bottles of claret spirited magically from the proceedings in the dining room by a cunning and slick-handed Millington.

      The Countess of Wexford was furious, her pleasure in the whole evening spoiled beyond measure, but unable to express her true sentiments in the face of such overwhelming satisfaction, particularly from Lord Joshua. She had lost this battle and had to accept it with a gracious smile and flattering words. Her fingers curled around her fruit knife like a claw.

      So the evening ended with food for thought. A delicious pun, Lord Joshua thought, much entertained at having seen the light of battle in the eyes of his intriguing housekeeper. And there was an undoubted gleam in his eyes, a gleam that could be interpreted as pure mischief, as the Countess took herself off to her bed at the first opportunity without a word and a disgruntled flounce. He had not been so amused for many weeks.

      There was no further discussion of a French chef.

       Chapter Five

      Very little communication occurred between the Faringdon households. Lady Beatrice kept silence and her distance, waiting for her son to visit her—which he deliberately chose not to do. Joshua visited his sister once at Painscastle House in Grosvenor Square on his arrival in England to exchange family news and other trivialities, but Judith had not returned the visit, partly because she had no wish to be forced into making polite and edgy conversation with the Countess of Wexford, or even to recognise that lady’s existence. More importantly because she did not wish to compromise Sarah’s situation in any way. Despite her shallow reputation and frivolous approach to life, Judith understood perfectly the reasons for Sarah’s reticence with regard to their friendship. The class division between Countess and housekeeper now yawned between them and Judith had no wish to embarrass her friend. But it concerned her that Sarah had refused all invitations to return to Painscastle House or even to accept a more casual arrangement to walk or ride in Hyde Park. Mrs Russell always had a good excuse, especially now that she had duties to Celestine as well as to the smooth running of Lord Faringdon’s establishment. Certainly, Judith might understand—but that did not necessarily mean that she would rest content with the estrangement.

      In the end, when Sarah had once more cried off from a stroll in Grosvenor gardens, the Countess of Painscastle took matters into her own hands with high-handed Faringdon initiative. After discreet enquiries of Millington, she took herself to Joshua’s house at a time of day when she presumed that both her brother and his chère amie would be absent. She stood in the entrance hall to face the new and most supercilious butler, Millington.

      ‘Good morning, Millington. I would wish for a word with Lord Faringdon’s housekeeper—on a matter of business.’ Although why she should need to give a reason, she knew not.

      ‘Mrs Russell, my lady?’ Millington could hardly disguise his interest, which Judith promptly ignored.

      ‘Perhaps I could speak with her in the blue morning room. If you would be so good as to ask her to come?’

      ‘Very well, my lady. Would your ladyship require refreshment?’

      ‘No. All I need is a few moments of Mrs Russell’s valuable time.’

      A short time later Sarah arrived with a carefully blank expression belied by a surprisingly fierce light in her blue eyes, followed by Millington, to come to a halt in the doorway of the elegant room where Judith was standing before the fireplace, removing her gloves. ‘You wished to see me, my lady.’

      ‘Indeed I did, Mrs Russell. There is no need for you to stay, Millington.’

      He bowed and departed with ill-concealed disapproval and curiosity, in equal measure.

      ‘Sarah!’ Judith dropped all formality along with her gloves and parasol on the side table. Seeing the closed expression on Sarah’s face—much as she had expected, of course—she decided to approach the matter head on, immediately on the attack. She wasted no time. ‘Why have you not been to see me? And baby Giles? Should I suppose that you no longer wish to acknowledge me as a friend?’

      ‘Judith …’ Sarah drew in a breath against the obvious tactics. This would not be a comfortable meeting as she had known from the moment that Millington had delivered the message. If only she could have thought of some reason not to face Judith. But she could not, of course. A housekeeper could not claim the absolute necessity to clean out a fire-grate. ‘You know why I have not visited you. You should not have come to see me here. It will only give rise to unpleasant gossip.’

      ‘I told you it was a bad idea from the very beginning! I should never have allowed you to come here.’

      Sarah could find nothing to say. Neither could she meet Judith’s gaze with its mixture of concern and hurt. But her own resentment died away. All she could do was answer the following catechism.

      ‘Are you well?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And John?’

      ‘He СКАЧАТЬ