Page 20 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘Of course, there won’t actually be much work for you to do before the rest of the house party arrive nearer Christmas, though you will also have to assume my gardener’s usual winter tasks of seeing to the open fires and bringing in logs.’
‘Maria’s going to pop in tomorrow morning to show me where the logs are kept and anything else she hadn’t time for today,’ Henry said. ‘It’s no problem.’
‘I’m glad to hear it! AndIwill see you both in the library tomorrow at nine thirty, to discuss your duties in more detail, once I’ve opened up my late husband’s study for Xan to work in.’
‘Of course,’ I said, and inadvertently catching Xan’s eye again, bestowed a cool, indifferent look on him. It seemed totake him aback slightly; I don’t suppose it’s the usual reaction he gets from women.
There still wasn’t the faintest sign of recognition, though, which was a great relief. But then, I suppose that wasn’t really surprising, considering how much I’d changed since I was sixteen.
‘I know Maria will have shown you the staff quarters, but Lucy will take you round the rest of the house in a moment,’ said Mrs Powys. ‘Lucy usually brings my breakfast tray up at eight, but it will be much better if you take that over from tomorrow morning, Dido.’
‘Certainly,’ I said.
‘Once I’ve carried the tray up, I take mine into the breakfast room,’ Lucy said.
She gave a slight simper in Xan’s direction. ‘Perhaps tomorrow, we can breakfast together, Xan?’
His eyes took on a slightly wary expression and he made the kind of noise that could be interpreted in any way the listener wished, but really meant:Not if I can help it!
‘I’m not used to being waited on,’ he said. ‘I normally get my own breakfast – and Plum’s.’
The little dog looked up eagerly at the sound of his name, or possibly the mention of the word ‘breakfast’.
‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Mrs Powys. ‘That’s what Dido and Henry are here for, after all, to cook and housekeep, Xan. And when you used to stay with us while Mrs Hill was still here we would all sit down to a cooked breakfast together.’
‘Yes, we’re happy to cook whatever you fancy for breakfast, Xan,’ Henry told him. ‘Just tell us what you’d like when you come down and we’ll bring it through to the morning room for you.’
‘OK,’ Xan said. ‘I’ll have to give Plum his breakfast in the kitchen anyway, once he’s been out, so I can tell you then.’
‘I hope Maria will take a complete break until the New Year, after she’s called in tomorrow morning,’ Mrs Powys said. ‘Andy must be settled back into the cottage and she can devote herself to him over Christmas.’
I remembered Maria telling us about the new shower room and stairlift Mrs Powys had had installed in the cottage to make things easier for Andy and reflected that my employer clearly had a kinder heart than her cool, incisive manner led you to think.
‘We’ll make sure she doesn’t lift a finger while we are here,’ Henry promised.
‘We can discuss everything else tomorrow, including the arrangements for Christmas,’ Mrs Powys said. ‘Maria has always done her best but, even without Andy’s illness, she wouldn’t have been up to catering for a house party.’
‘We’ve had years of experience,’ Henry assured her. ‘It’ll all go swimmingly, you’ll see.’
‘For the fees you charge, I would expect no less!’
‘No, indeed,’ echoed Lucy sycophantically. I’d almost forgotten she was there while we were talking, but now I noticed she was holding a plate covered in crumbs.
‘Right, Lucy,’ Mrs Powys said briskly. ‘If you’ve finished your tea, you can give Dido and Henry a tour of the house.’
‘Of course, Cousin Sabine,’ Lucy said, though not without a longing glance at the somewhat depleted plate of sticky baklava.
‘I wish you wouldn’t keep calling me that, Lucy! You were my father’s cousin, not mine, and it just makes me feel as if I’ve strayed into a Daphne du Maurier novel.’
‘I don’t really see myself in the Mrs Danvers role,’ I saidwithout thinking, and I saw the corners of Xan’s mouth twitch upwards as he poured himself a second cup of coffee.
‘Cousin Sabine is how I’ve always thought of you, so I keep forgetting,’ apologized Lucy, getting to her feet and dropping a fat, old-fashioned handbag as she did so, which burst open, spilling out a far from old-fashioned phone, a Mars bar and a paperback novel with a half-naked man on the front cover.
Plum went to sniff interestedly at the chocolate, but Lucy hastily shovelled everything back in again, babbling disjointedly in a voice that wavered up and down like a cracked flute.
‘Come along, then,’ she said finally, leading the way out, her handbag now looped over her arm in the manner of the Queen.
Mrs Powys called after her: ‘Oh, Lucy, you needn’t come back till dinner. I want to have a cosy chat with my godson before I go up to change.’
