“Pirate! You wound me, Girlie. My ship was a whaler, turned privateer for love of God and country.”
“Was it, indeed? And you were a prince in your own land. How did you ever get such a respectable job as this one?”
Michaels laughed. “Oh, Girlie, how I missed coming in and sparring with you.”
Tiffany blinked back tears. It had been fine to banter with the customers when Father Bentley had been alive.
“Aw, now, I’m just funnin’ with ye. I’ll send Lucas down to the brewery at first light, and the winery, too. Will that be soon enough?”
“I guess it will have to be. Meanwhile, I’ll get started on some sourdough since that is all this is fit for.”
“But I’ve been real careful with it. I ain’t even touched it.” Michaels nearly whimpered.
Tiffany softened her voice a little. “You have been. Keeping a sponge proper so’s it don’t sour is hard. If you’ll send out for a sample from the brewery and the winery, I’ll show you how to keep your yeast from becoming sharp.”
“Aw, now, you don’ need to be givin’ away trade secrets.”
“Hardly that,” Tiffany said. “It’s mostly plain common sense. Now, have you got a potato or a handful of raisins?”
“Well, yes, of course we do. But why do you need those to make bread?”
“I don’t,” Tiffany replied. “But while we wait for the samples from the brewery and winery, I can begin our own starter to use next week.”
“Oh.” Michaels looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Oh!” he exclaimed again, light beginning to dawn for him. “So you mean to stay?”
“What? You thought I’d scarper off at the first chance? Well, I might at that. But I know when to lie low and bide my time. Or I might just make up my mind to take your job.”
“Not to worry about that,” Michaels laughed. “No one makes a roast the way I do. But I’m glad that you’ll be staying for a time, at least. This old pile has been way too dull. I’ll be glad of a joke or two.”
“Yes, yes,” Tiffany muttered absently, poking a spoon in the clay jar of starter. A cloud of what appeared to be dough had risen to the top, sediment had settled to the bottom. The clear fluid that separated the two had a sharp, sour, alcoholic aroma. “Is this starter, or are you making your own Blue Ruin?”
“Tiffany! Would I ever?”
Tiffany lost patience. “Honestly, Michaels, I am sure I could not say. You were my father’s customer, not my favorite uncle. You put in a good word for me, and I’m grateful. But to make a decent loaf to serve to the Marquess, I need something to work with. What kind of flour have you got?”
Michaels seemed about to say something, but then thought better of it. “Yes, Ma’am, Lady Baker,” he twitted her, showing her the way to the pantry where the flour was stored.
By the time the sun peeped over the horizon, Tiffany had a list for Lucas. There were weevils in one barrel of the flour in the pantry, the rye had a tang that she did not care for at all, the butter was bitter, the milk had begun to sour. “What were you thinking?” she asked Michaels. “It is amazing that the crew of theAntelopelived to catch a single whale if this is how you fed them.”
“Weevils just adds protein,” he shrugged. “Besides, purchasing is done by the day cook. He’ll be in any minute now, and I’ll be off.”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll be off…off shift that is. It be nigh my sleep time, Girlie.”
“Send Lucas now before the shift change. I don’t want to argue through this with another stubborn cook.” With that, Tiffany measured out flour from the one good barrel, caught a cupful of drippings from the roast, and set about doing what she could to revive the failing yeast.
If I make it through this day with one successful loaf of bread it will be a miracle. If I cannot, then it might well mean gaol or worse for me.
Chapter 4
Percival awoke feeling remarkably well, in spite of having been awakened in the middle of the night. There was something about doing a good turn for someone that made the outlook of any day just a little bit brighter. He flung back the covers and surveyed the clothing his valet had laid out for him.
“Smithers,” he called, “Are not these garments a little over the top for a day at home?”
“Indeed, My Lord, they would be. But your secretary reminded me that you will be holding an At Home today, and that you will be receiving council members in regard to the new orphanage down near Cheapside. McClellan has let me know that he has prepared the small reception room for your guests.”
“Of course. Very well, Smithers, make me presentable.”
