“That would be best.” I continued to slice carrots with vigor. “None who will try to break her spirit. Or I shall breakhim.”
Mr.Davis unbent enough to shoot me a wry smile. “I too, Mrs.Holloway.”
He turned from the kitchen and disappeared back down the hall to his demesne of the butler’s pantry.
* * *
I puzzled over the letter and its purpose as I continued preparing the midday meal.
TheLady of the Householdmeant Cynthia’s younger sister, Lady Rankin—Lady Emily Shires, that was. She’d been married to Lord Rankin, who held the lease on this house. Lord Rankin, a lofty baron, was not the best of men, but he’d truly grieved when Emily had died.
Lady Emily had been the one to originally hire me on as cook, with dire consequences, I am afraid. Though I supposethe events would have played out whether I’d come here to work or not.
I made myself cease chopping the carrots before they were too minuscule for use and move on to the next task.
“Everything all right, Mrs.H.?” Tess asked me. When she’d finished her conversation with Elsie, she’d begun mixing flour and yeast for a special bread I intended for tonight’s sweet. At the moment I couldn’t remember for the life of me what else went into it.
“I cannot tell you. I’m sorry, Tess.” I scraped the carrot bits from my chopping board into a bowl. “It’s nothing to do with me, and private.”
“Did someone send Lady Cynthia a nasty letter?” Tess added the warm water I’d left out and a bit of finely pounded sugar to the dough and began working it into a clump with a wooden spoon. “I saw you passing one back and forth.”
Tess was quick, her guess almost exact. “I do not wish to speak of it without Cynthia’s permission.”
I stared into the bowl as I stated this, wondering what I’d intended with all these carrots. I was most distracted today.
“If they’re fussing at her for wearing trousers, I’ll have at ’em.” Tess pounded the dough with her spoon. “Why shouldn’t a lady wear what she likes? They’re more practical sometimes, trousers. Ain’t they? I knew a lass who lived on a farm, and she was always in breeches to do her work with the animals.”
“It was not about Cynthia and men’s attire. I really can say no more than that.”
Tess continued to beat the dough with vigor. “That’s all right. I’m dead curious, but I don’t want to upset her ladyship. She’s been good to me. If she needs any help though, you look to me. Caleb as well.”
It was kind of her to offer, even if it was partly from inquisitiveness. “Please do not mention this to Constable Greene,” I said quickly. “At least, not yet.”
“You know me.” Tess cheerfully made a sign of locking her lips, smudging the upper one with flour. “I’ll say nothing till you give me the word.”
“Thank you, Tess.” I calmed enough to at last recall what I intended for the bread. “Work that butter I melted and one egg into the dough, then turn it out and knead it—gently—and we’ll put it aside. When it’s risen, I’ll show you how to make it into a star shape, which we’ll fill with sugar and cinnamon.”
“Mmm.” Tess poured in the butter, then cracked an egg into a small bowl before stirring it into the dough. She’d learned not to crack an egg directly into a batter, in case the egg was bad or it sent bits of shell cascading into the other ingredients.
Tess turned a well-mixed ball onto the floured table and began to work it. “Please say we can have some of this.”
“I will make any leftover dough into small portions for us.” I continued to hold the bowl of carrots, still unable to remember the next step with them.
“Weren’t you going to rub them carrot bits with spices?” Tess asked me. “And put them in with the roast?”
“Yes, of course.” I bustled to the stove, where the meat was waiting to go into the oven to sear slowly all afternoon. “You have a good memory for the recipes now.”
Tess beamed. Whether she believed I’d been testing her or knew I had truly forgotten what I was about, I couldn’t say. She was kind enough not to tell me.
* * *
I saw no more of Cynthia that day. Mrs.Bywater, who made it a habit to come downstairs to ask me about menus, my expenditure, and what quantities I was buying of the comestibles, did not appear either.
I wondered if Mrs.Bywater’s distress over the letter was because it could shame Lady Emily posthumously, and by extension Cynthia, and even Mrs.Bywater herself. Mrs.Bywater had never approved of either Emily or Cynthia—the entire Shires family, actually—though she was pleased her husband’s sister had married an earl and his niece had married a baron. However, Mrs.Bywater had never been happy with her in-laws’ characters.
She already was having difficulty enough interesting young men in marrying Cynthia. A blackmailer threatening to expose Cynthia’s sister’s indiscretions could ruin Cynthia’s chances entirely.
By the standards of the upper classes, Cynthia was already on the shelf, unmarried at nearly thirty-three.Shewas not bothered by this state of affairs, but Mrs.Bywater found it embarrassing and disgraceful. Was this what had Mrs.Bywater so unhappy about the letter’s threats?
