“I’m not...” Mayson started to protest.
But Evelynn laughed. “I will be careful, Mr. Wilson.”
“Indeed, I have said as much to her,” said Mrs. Henshaw, following close behind with a troop of footmen and a gaggle of maids trailing after her. “Dear me! The whole assembly has come loose from the beams,” she exclaimed.
“I came to say that the Duchess has said that a late dinner is perfectly fine, but to keep her appraised of the event as it unfolds,” Evelyn explained. “How fortunate that we do not have guests tonight.”
“Quite so,” corroborated Mrs. Henshaw. “With the Duchess’ understanding, it will be a simple matter to manage a meal for staff. We shall simply prepare a meal for the Duchess and then set up a buffet in the servants’ dining hall so that staff can eat as they have time. I fear this might be a busy night for all of us with this recent upset. Mr. Wilson, I have taken the liberty of sending for the constable.”
“You do not think that this is not merely a mischance caused by wear on an aging edifice?” asked Mr. Wilson in some surprise.
“I do not,” Mrs. Henshaw replied firmly. “If you will recall, the supporting beams and the chains holding up the rack were replaced just last year. So I think we should wait until after dinner to clear up.”
“I had forgotten about that,” Mr. Wilson said. “I fear I am becoming as forgetful as Mr. Sparks.”
Just then Betty hurried down the stairs in the wake of all the other maids and footmen. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Henshaw, Mr. Wilson, Her Grace requests that Mr. Rudge and Mrs. Swinton be brought upstairs to dine with her. She is certain that they will only be underfoot, and running themselves ragged down here, and she does not wish to dine alone. Mr. Wilson, Mrs. Henshaw, you are invited, too.”
“Goodness!” declared Mrs. Henshaw. “We are becoming most egalitarian.”
“Perhaps not so revolutionary as all that,” Mr. Wilson demurred. “Her Grace has always been a law unto herself. Jemmy is a shade young to preside over the servants’ table. Mr. McElroy, as senior in age of all the staff, will you do the honors?”
“I would be glad to, Mr. Wilson. And I am cognizant of the honor you do me, since I am newest and least in seniority.”
“Molly Sue and Bruce, the head footman, will assist you. Valiant though you are in your efforts to keep our kitchen spotless, we are all aware of your difficulty with stairs. Molly Sue, Bruce,” Mr. Wilson fixed them both with a steely glare.
“Yes, Mr. Wilson,” they replied in chorus, Molly Sue curtsying, and Bruce giving a perfectly correct bow.
Mr. Wilson nodded an acknowledgement of their propriety, then directed two of the footmen to make a chair of their arms and carry Mr. Rudge up the narrow stairs and into the Duchess’ drawing room.
“Ah, there you are, Mr. Rudge,” the Duchess exclaimed. “I have quite missed your visits on the occasions when my tea tray was too laden for Mrs. Swinton to carry it. Settle him right there in the wingback chair. Pull the ottoman over for his foot. Excellent! You are both gentlemen of the first water. Now, go along about your business. I am sure that Mrs. Henshaw and Mr. Wilson will be along shortly with our dinners, and that they will make arrangements for yours.”
Thus summarily dismissed the two footmen hastened away, leaving the Duchess in the company of her companion and her cook.
“Well, Mr. Rudge,” the Duchess declared. “It would seem as if you are extremely accident prone of late. One does wonder about it. And I directed Mrs. Henshaw to send for the constable right away. Unless the workmen did an exceptionally poor job of repairing it, there should have been no reason for it to come down.”
Mayson glanced at Evelyn who hid a smile by bending her head over her needlework, which she had taken up as soon as she sat down in her customary chair. Clearly, the Duchess’ memory was a great deal better than Mr. Wilson’s.
In a short while, Mrs. Henshaw and Mr. Wilson brought up the dinner trays. They were just setting them down on the drawing room table when Bruce, who as senior footman was Mr. Wilson’s understudy, tapped on the frame of the Duchess’ drawing room door.
“Yes, Bruce?” Mr. Wilson asked.
“Constable Morris is here, Mr. Wilson. Should I send him up?”
“Take him to the kitchen first,” the Duchess said. “Then invite him to join us. I think there is enough food here to feed an army. I do believe that young Jemmy is attempting to follow in your footsteps, Mr. Rudge.”
“I would be pleased to think that I am having a positive influence over him, Your Grace,” Mayson replied. “But he bade fair to become a good cook before he was promoted. We have simply made it possible for him to continue learning the trade. I have been pleased with him. He is earnest, and tries hard, frequently to good effect.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” The Duchess smiled happily at them all. “It is always a pleasure when a plan works out well. But we must get to the bottom of these accidents. A loose stone in those old cellar steps I can well believe. I remember that they were in sad condition when the late Duke and I were wed. But for a kitchen rack, so recently repaired, to come down! That is negligence, at the very least of it, and if such is the case the workmen shall hear of it, I can assure you.”
“I should not wish to be in their shoes,” Mrs. Henshaw ventured conversationally. “Our Mr. Rudge was nearly squashed by the thing.”
“As it was, poor Jemmy’s successful cakes fell victim to it. But I can promise you,” Mr. Wilson went on, “That even though his first cakes fell flat, they are still delicious. The boy has a definite flair for desserts.”
“Perhaps because he is fond of eating them,” Evelyn commented. “Which is not to belittle his success. Where might we have been if he had not already been training as undercook?”
“In the soup for sure,” Mayson quipped.
“No, no,” the Duchess protested. “My son would have sent one of the cooks down from the main estate. Although I must say I am just as well pleased that it was not necessary. The last time we had the undercook from Darrius’s household, the fellow was competent but had no imagination at all, no sense of presentation.”
