“Really?” Evan asked. “You want us to sing about a light skirt?”
Tiffany shrugged. “Pick a different song, if you wish. But make sure it lasts. The water needs a good, hard boil to be best for cleaning.”
“Ods bodikins,” Jack remarked, “You sounds just like me Mam when she does spring cleaning.”
“Do I? I don’t suppose your Mam would be lookin’ for work?”
Jack thought about it for a heartbeat or two. “Nah. My youngest sister just had a baby, an’ she’s poorly. Anyways, Old Elizabet comes in on Tuesdays an’ Thursdays, but she’s been hard pressed to keep up with Jones’s mess.”
Tiffany sighed. “Ask around to see if there is someone else who can fill in on other days. A kitchen needs more charring than one woman will do up in two days a week.” When the last serving dish went up to the table, Tiffany collapsed on a stool in front of the cooling hearth.Would it be good enough? Would the Marquess keep her on? Did she want him to keep her on?At that point, the only thing she knew for sure was that her feet hurt, and she was glad to sit down. But that did not prevent a small twinge about what would happen tomorrow.
Chapter 6
Just as Percival was leaving the kitchen, he heard the heavy tones of the front door knocker. He had just enough time to check his cravat in the cloudy mirror at the top of the servants’ stair, placed there so the serving staff could manage their appearance.
The dim glass gave him back the reflection of a young man whose shoulders were just beginning to round with too many hours at a desk instead of out-of-doors with his horses and hounds. A carefully brushed mop of dark curls waved back from his face. Serious brown eyes beneath well-shaped dark brows flanked an aristocratic nose. He was clean-shaven, revealing a sensitive mouth which could smile and laugh, but too often lately drooped with sadness and fatigue.
He shook himself out of his reverie and hurried to the small receiving room to greet his guests. His friends from school, Mr. Quentin and Mr. Kenault, were among the first to arrive. Both wore great coats with several capes, as the day was more than a little chilly. When they surrendered the coats and their top hats to the footman standing beside McClellan, it was revealed that they were modishly dressed in trousers and tailcoats. Their boots were polished to a high gloss.
However, as they entered the drawing room, Mr. Quentin whispered to the Marquess, “Do you still have that same cook?”
“No,” Percival replied, sotto voce, “Dismissed him this morning, and hired a young woman. Refreshments today will be her first meal.”
“Driving a bit close to the edge, M’lord,” Kenault commented. “But I doubt she could possibly embarrass you more than the previous cook.”
“Gentlemen, I had the best breakfast I have eaten in the last two years! Biscuits light as a feather. While it is too soon to brag on a new cook, I do have hopes that our luncheon will be unexceptional, at the very least.”
By ones and twos, the gentlemen of the Charity Club wandered in. When all had arrived, the president of the club, Lord Nevard, from a neighboring estate, tapped his fork against his water glass. Percival was pleased to note that McClellan had thoughtfully provided the fellow with a sturdy glass that would ring nicely but not shatter when tapped. Lord Nevard had been known to become overzealous with his tapping, and had broken more than one water glass.
“Order, order,” he called. “This meeting is now in session.”
The low murmur that had previously filled the room died down. The gentlemen took their seats, and focused their attention upon the speaker.
“As you all know,” Lord Nevard announced pompously, “This winter has been harsh. As a result, there has been a marked increase in pilferage of common items such as food, clothing, and even blankets. It is my belief that if we could provide for at least a portion of the unfortunates in our villages and in the City, we would see a decrease in petty theft. But more than that, there are numerous children in want.”
There were general cries of, “Hear, hear!” and quieter comments such as “Quite so!” and “I concur.”
“It is to this end that we are gathered here to determine how to raise money to develop an orphanage to house these unfortunate ragamuffins . . .”
Percival tried to keep his attention on the gentleman’s speech. The fellow was rated as being an exceptional orator, and it should be quite an honor to have him as the president of their club, but sometimes he did wish that the fellow would not prose on so. The real work of the day would not begin until they split up into the various committees.
Fortunately, they were well into committee work by the time the refreshments were brought in. Percival noted that there were more of the little biscuits that had been served at breakfast, along with some sort of little egg roll that had been drizzled in honey.
He was relieved that he would not be embarrassed as he had been the with previous meals served to his friends. A good thing, too, because among the guests was a wealthy gentleman, formerly a sea captain, who had made his fortune in silks and other things from the Orient. The Charity Club had great hopes that the fellow might make a substantial donation to the fund for the orphanage.
The gentlemen were at their work until well into the evening, so Percival invited them to stay for dinner. Some cried off, declaring that they were expected elsewhere, but Percival’s two friends and four others remained.
Percival hardly knew what to expect, but as the courses came to the table and the empty dishes went away, he began to relax.
As they lingered over desert, a sweet confection in a thin pastry shell, Mr. Quentin observed, “By Jove, Northbury, I think you’ve found a cook worth keeping.”
“I believe I have, Mr. Quentin,” Percival observed formally.
“Quite a change from our last dinner here, eh, wot?” Mr. Kenault added.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” one of the other guests observed. “But if you aren’t paying that cook her worth, I’m going to try to hire her away from you. I’ve not dined this well since, well, since ever!”
“I can assure I know my new cook’s worth,” Percival said. “I am glad you enjoyed the meal. May I take her your compliments?”
