Chapter 10
Not long after the Marquess left, Tiffany said goodnight to Michaels, and went up to her room. When she entered, Sophie looked up from a hem she was mending on one of her uniform aprons. “Well, if it isn’t the newly promoted cook, all puffed up on your own importance.”
“Beg pardon? Is there a problem?” Tiffany sank down on her bed, truly exhausted.
“Grace and I were upstairs maids until you came along and got Jones dismissed. I might have even had an understanding with Jones. But no, Miss I-used-to-run-a-bakery Bentley came along and upset everything.” Sophie bit off her thread at the end of her seam, stood up, and shook the apron out with a sharp snap, then folded it up.
“And now you are up here late. Perhaps you have an understanding with Michaels. I hear that he identified you and stood up for you when you were caught stealing from the Marquess. That’s quite a job reference, m’lady Bentley.”
“I concede that you have some reason to be upset, but I didn’t intend for Jones to be dismissed. You must understand that he would not let me do what the Marquess had directed me to do. Nor did I plan to take over as cook, although I can’t say that I am sorry. It has been delightful to be in a real kitchen again, preparing food for people.”
Tiffany rubbed her hands over her face, and thought a minute. “As for Michaels, he was a customer in my adoptive father’s shop. He was called in to see if he could identify me, and he did. He is old enough to be my father, and is far more like an uncle who turned up now and then, since he was a sailor on a whaling ship until his captain took ill and died. I’m glad he was able to find work here in England, since he was then stranded without a ship, but I’m amazed that anyone hired him on as a cook.”
“Oh? Why is that?” Sophie asked, with a mean little smirk.
“Because he can cook exactly three things: the roasts at which he excels, beans, and porridge. Oh, and he can put up salt beef and fish in ways that they will be edible several months later. He was a ship’s cook, which means he was quite indifferent to weevils in the flour. If I understand it correctly, there were weevils in everything by the end of a voyage. But Father Bentley would have dismissed him, as well as Jones, for the slovenly state of that kitchen. It is a wonder the entire household did not catch their death of something dreadful."
Sophie began to laugh. “Oh, that is too funny. You, who lived on the street for two years, are cutting up stiff over the way the kitchen in a noble house is kept?”
“I survived on the street. It was a better choice than dealing with a jealous woman who clearly intended for me to be her body servant for life. I am truly sorry if my actions caused a change in status for you and for Grace. I do admire her very much, she is so gentle. Her name suits her.”
Sophie’s demeanor softened a little. “I don’t suppose you could have planned that. And yes, Grace’s name suits her. She does everything well, with a smile. So, you were a baker’s apprentice?”
“A baker’s adopted daughter,” Tiffany corrected. “My own parents were killed in a fire, or so I have been told. I don’t know all the details, but the Bentleys could not have children. When they went to the orphanage to look for a child, they picked me. The only thing I have left of my real parents is my father’s clasp knife.”
“You still have it, in spite of all that has happened to you?” Sophie asked, interested.
“Yes, I keep it with me always.” Tiffany reached under her pillow, and drew out the old clasp knife. It was not the best of knives of its type. The handle was crude and the pin that held the blade was stiff. Tiffany opened it to show Sophie how it worked.
Once opened, the blade was large, as clasp knives go, more of a hunting knife than a pocketknife for sharpening quills. It had sawblade notches on the back for removing fish hooks and the like, and a sharp cutting edge.
Sophie looked at it, wide-eyed. “That is a wicked-looking blade,” she said. “Did you ever have to defend yourself with it?”
Tiffany shook her head. “The best defense is to not be where trouble can find you. I became quite good at avoiding trouble.”
“So how did you get caught?”
“Desperation and greed. Several children looked to me to provide for them. One little girl was sick and needed medicine. I would have been fine if I’d stuck to two loads of goods, but I went back for a third, and that is when McClellan heard someone where there should not have been anyone, and came looking.”
“And they found you.”
“Yes, they found me. So, here I am, under house arrest. The Marquess has told me flat out that he will put the Watch on me if I attempt to leave.”
“Slave labor? That does not sound like the Marquess.”
“Oh, dear, no. I am to be paid. And having a roof, good clothes, and a decent bed to sleep in, is quite a bit of recompense.”
“Bed.” Sophie smirked again. “Is it true that you stole the linens off the late Marchioness’ bed?”
“Lisa was sick,” Tiffany said defensively. “There were warm blankets on that bed. And sheets, even of this quality,” Tiffany ran a hand over the coarse linens that were used on the maids’ beds, “Fetch a pretty penny. I was trying to provide for my family.”
“And what of them now?” Sophie asked.
Recognizing that she was hovering perilously near an admission that could land several people in trouble, Tiffany shrugged. “I don’t really know. I hope that my next in command was able to get enough money for the goods we took to see them through the next few days, and that none of them get caught stealing.”
Sophie thought that over for a few minutes then she said, “You are a really good cook. We have never eaten better than we have this se’nnight. Why didn’t you just try to get on somewhere?”
“Mrs. Bentley. Technically, I was still an apprentice when I ran away, even though I had been doing all the work in the shop since my adoptive father passed from this life. Even if I had hired on somewhere else, she could have forced me to come back.”
