“She is such a such a dear,” Evelyn agreed. “It is really quite touching to see how she dotes on the Duke and how much she misses his father.”
“Even after the contretemps in the hallway following that little instruction session?” Mayson raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, well,” Evelyn tipped her head from one side to the other and gave a little laugh, “I had hoped just to wait on table that day. But His Grace insisted that I sit with them. The Duchess was quite fixed on the idea that she needed to spice up his relationship with his intended.”
“Are they at loggerheads, then?” asked Mayson.
“I would not say so much at loggerheads,” Evelyn mused, “as quite indifferent to each other. It is a shame, really. The marriage was arranged by his father while they were in infancy, practically. It is perfectly clear that they are ill-suited to each other. Either one would make a perfectly fine person to be united with someone else.”
“Now that is a shame,” Mayson said. “I have noted, however, that it is frequently customary among the peerage for loveless contracts to be taken up for the sake of land, power, and position.”
“I suppose I was fortunate,” Evelyn spoke slowly, as if considering every word. “My marriage, however brief, was for love.”
“Have you ever thought of marrying again?” Mayson asked.
“It is a little soon,” Evelyn replied, “but I suppose not impossible. I would hope to wed for love again, should it come my way. I do not think that John would want me to live alone forever, but he is due a decent time of mourning.”
“To be sure,” Mayson replied, uncertain whether he should feel chagrinned or perhaps a little hopeful. After all, she had not said that she would not marry again. “How long do you think would be a respectful time?” he asked.
“A year is traditional,” she commented a bit absently, again looking out over the water. “It has been a little over six months and I am only in half mourning now.”
“I see,” Mayson commented as he busied himself with organizing the bread and butter. “Would you care for some more?” he offered.
“Oh, dear, I do not think I could eat another crumb. This is all been so delicious. You are an amazing cook. Have you ever thought of opening your own business?”
“Why, I hardly know,” Mayson considered it with a faraway look on his face. “I hadn’t really thought on it, but I suppose that would be a logical summation of all my learning and exploring of cookery.” It was now his turn to stare out across the water with an inscrutable expression. “I have simply been so busy learning how to be a cook for a household, I hadn’t thought on it.”
“So you said,” Evelyn laughed a little at his disjointed answer. “I did not mean to disparage your current career choice. I hope you are not offended.”
“You have not disturbed me in the least,” Mayson said, turning his gaze full upon her. “In fact, you have given me food for thought. Evelyn, have you ever thought of perhaps relocating? Starting over somewhere new?”
“I can’t say that I have,” she replied, “but I suppose it is a possibility. Did you have somewhere in mind?”
“Oh, there are so many possibilities,” he said. “You know, one of the things that I do love is reading travel logs. Her Grace has been kind enough to share a few of the late Duke’s collection with me. On a lending basis, you understand.”
“Indeed, I do understand. She is so very generous, and so delighted when anyone takes an interest in anything to do with the late Duke.”
“Among the travel logs, there is an account of some of the early explorers of New South Wales.”
“Is there?”
“Yes. Oh, such strange and marvelous creatures are described, you have no idea! Do you know there is one that sits up on its hind legs like a giant jackrabbit and hops about, but it carries its young in a pouch upon its belly?”
“I had no idea,” Evelyn’s eyes shone with interest. “Do tell me more. What else was in the travel log that you read?”
“Well, let me think. I believe there are people who wear almost no clothing and dress their hair with mud. Or perhaps that was the account of Borneo? Or maybe Africa.”
“I would think that would be very uncomfortable,” Evelyn commented.
“Well, one would believe that, but I suppose they might think some of our ways very uncomfortable.”
“I guess that might be,” Evelyn agreed. “There was a missionary who spoke at my parents’ church once who described some inhabitants of deepest Africa who go about in that sort of dress.”
Mayson nodded. “There was a book written by one of the great hunters who went down and collected heads and so on. One of the late Duke’s uncles, I believe it was, went to Africa to hunt.”
“The world is very large place, isn’t it?” Evelyn commented.
“It is,” Mayson agreed. “When you are out of mourning, perhaps we could talk about travel a little more.”
