Page 72 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

Sammy stepped aside to avoid brushing against one.

‘This was the great hall,’ Magnus said. ‘Originally medieval. Altered over time.’

He reached a side table, slid open a drawer, and took out a cloth. One pass along the surface of the dining table. ‘When Sir and Madam are in residence, they often entertain in here.’

Sammy looked down the length of it. Twenty. Thirty if you pushed it. ‘And I cook . . . when they do?’ she said.

‘Yes.’

‘How many?’

‘Normally fourteen. That’s the number the table is designed for, without the extension.’

Fourteen. Sammy didn’t want to think about the extension.

Across the table, Valerie gave a quiet snort. ‘Fourteen’s manageable if you know what you’re doing,’ she said. ‘Last Christmas, Mrs Williams and I did twenty-two.’

Magnus ignored the interruption completely. ‘When you are ready,’ he said, ‘we will conduct a trial run.’

Sammy couldn’t decide if that thought excited or terrified her.

Valerie lifted another napkin and flicked it open sharply. ‘Though presentation matters as much as food,’ she said. ‘Fine dining’s all theatre really.’ With a few swift movements, the napkin transformed beneath her hands into a fan shape. ‘Napkin origami,’ she said, finally looking at Sammy. ‘That’s what they call it now. Though proper service folding existed long before people gave it a fancy name.’ She set the finished piece beside a plate. It looked as if a ruler had measured the distance between the folds.

Sammy stared at it.

Valerie smiled at her expression. No hint of kindness. More amused.

‘Observe,’ Magnus said. He picked up a napkin from Valerie’s pile. Fold. Turn. A corner brought in and held. Another lifted, reversed. The fabric shifted under his hands, each movement building on the last. A shape formed – lines holding, the structure emerging step by step.

Sammy tried to follow but lost it halfway through.

Beside her, Valerie clicked her tongue softly. ‘You’re watching the corners,’ she said. ‘Watch the centre tension instead.’

Magnus set the finished napkin upright on the table. Crisp, symmetrical – a folded crown held by tension, each ridge even.

‘Now you try.’

Sammy picked up a napkin. Fold, turn . . . not quite. She unfolded it immediately. Tried again.

Valerie drifted closer, carrying another stack of linen. ‘Too loose,’ she murmured as she passed behind her. ‘If you leave gaps like that, they collapse before the guests have sat down.’

Sammy tried again. She could smell that cloying perfume. Sammy’s fingers trembled.

Without touching her, Magnus took the napkin. ‘Watch carefully.’ He demonstrated again. ‘Now let’s do this step by step.’

Sammy picked up another napkin and copied his movements. Watching the angles, the tension in the fabric. Halfway through, she saw it – the slight mistake. Before it settled, she stopped and corrected.

Valerie was watching openly now.

Sammy placed the finished napkin on the table. Nobody spoke. Then Valerie leaned in inspecting it. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘It’s standing for now at least.’

Magnus met Sammy’s gaze and held it. ‘Adequate.’ The word sounded warm after Valerie’s commentary. ‘Shall I continue?’ Sammy asked.

‘No. That will suffice.’ Magnus gathered the napkins into a neat pile.

Valerie reached over and silently straightened the one Sammy had folded by less than half an inch. ‘Corners,’ she said mildly. ‘Guests notice corners.’

Sammy looked at the corrected fold.