Page 117 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘Indeed,’ Sabine said, slightly drily. ‘When you come down, I’ll be in the summer sitting room – the first door on the left through the arch to the old wing, if you recall.’
‘Certainly,’ he said, and went upstairs with Lucy, with the air of one granted a temporary reprieve.
Henry went to bring in the luggage and Mrs Powys’s eyes seemed to fall on me for the first time.
‘Dido, take the salmon and champagne to the kitchen and then, perhaps, you could bring tea for two to the small sitting room. I’ll go there now.’
‘Yes, Mrs Powys,’ I said to her upright, retreating back.
I was already burdened with the long-handled dustpan and brush, but Nancy offered to carry the champagne.
‘It looks terribly expensive, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘It must hold almost enough to take a bath in!’
Henry heaved two large suitcases into the hall and she added, surprised, ‘What a lot of luggage for only a short stay! Still, I expect a complete Santa outfit would take up quite a bit of space.’
‘It’s just as well we’re going to be a large party,’ Nancy said, depositing the huge bottle on the kitchen dresser. ‘Otherwise, by the time we’d finished this, we’d all be under the table!’
‘I only hope Henry can find a wine cooler big enough for it, or it’ll have to be a bucket,’ I said, dubiously.
‘Well, I’m off to the study now,’ she said. ‘Xan mentioned he’d found Asa’s old family photograph album and I do love that kind of thing – all the funny hats and hobble skirts and so on. I thought he might let me borrow it.’
‘I’m sure he will,’ I told her, but my mind was already busy with ideas for using the unexpected glut of smoked salmon, though it had, I was pleased to see, been thinly sliced before being sealed in its packet.
It’s so useful for sandwiches and all kinds of dishes. Perhaps scrambled egg cooked with snippets of smoked salmon would be perfect to serve to the house party for breakfast on Christmas morning?
I laid a tray with tea for two and took it to the summer sitting room, which I’d only previously glanced into. It was a pleasant, small room, with chairs and sofas covered in faded chintz. The window looked out across the lawn and beyond, to the distant hills.
Nigel had just come down and kindly held the door for me.
‘Dido, isn’t it? Lucy’s told me all about you and Henry – and that we’re all on first name terms here – no formality!’ He gave a deep, rich chuckle.
I didn’t look at Mrs Powys – I couldn’t everimaginecalling her Sabine! – but as I put the tray down on the table in front of her, Nigel said heartily, ‘Well, this is cosy! I can’t remember ever being in this room before.’
‘It is, as its name suggests, used mainly in the summer,’ Sabine said, then added to me, dismissively, ‘Thank you, Dido.’
But by then, I was already on my way out, though as I closed the door, I caught a glimpse of Nigel’s face: he looked as if I’d just shut him in with a lioness.
In passing, I put my head into the study, to see if Xan wanted some coffee, and found him working at the big desk, while Nancy was sitting in one of the armchairs before the coffee table, carefully leafing through the old photograph album. Plum was asleep across her feet.
‘Still here, as you see,’ she said, looking up. ‘This is so fascinating – but I’ll take it away with me now and leave Xan in peace.’
‘You aren’t bothering me,’ Xan said vaguely, then looked up and bestowed one of his singularly beautiful smiles on me.
‘In fact, since you’re here, Nancy, we might as well record a few more of your memories, if you have time.’
‘OK,’ she said amiably. ‘But only if dear Dido brings me a cup of tea first.’
‘One coffee and one tea coming up,’ I said. ‘Then I must get on with the preparations for lunch. You’re having leek and potato soup, then eggs Benedict. Those are fiddly to cook for a lot of guests, so I thought I’d cook them today.’
‘Wonderful!’ Nancy said, beaming. ‘You spoil us, my dear.’
At lunchtime, when I took the warm bread rolls through to the dining room, I saw that Nigel looked rather crushed and deflated, as if he had a slow puncture. Lucy was darting anxious glances at him.
‘Well, thatwasan illuminating little chat we had, Nigel,’Mrs Powys said, pouring herself a glass of water. ‘I’m sure we understand each other so much better now.’
Nigel gave her rather a sickly smile and she continued, ‘I’m looking forward to having a private talk with Olive Melling, too – not to mention reacquainting myself with her son. Of course, Dominic is the only representative of the next generation in the family.’
‘The next generation ofAsa’sfamily,’ Nigel corrected her, quickly. ‘Notours.’
