Page 78 of Miss Delectable
She was marvelous. “Yes.”
“And her people are here, her kitchen is here. Would she go with you to France?”
Rye shook his head. He would ask, or he hoped he would, but Ann ought not to go with him. That would mean marriage, and he was a man somewhat the worse for past battles. His business prospects were floundering, enemies lurked on the edge of his camp, and all manner of obligations beset him.
Ann ought to stay in England, making her kitchen magic, and Rye ought to leave for France on the next packet.
“How did you do it, Tante? How did you turn your back on everything and everyone you knew and loved, put your whole life into a few trunks, and leap into a foreign land that would never be your home?”
She took a third nibble of her tart and set the plate aside. “One grew tired of the savagery, Orion. The Terror spread its tentacles out from Paris, and nobody was safe. Women, children, the infirm… The bloodlust spared nobody, and we could see no end to it. We had murdered our king, a reasonable man who loved his country, and we dispatched his wife and children as well.”
She sighed softly, her gaze on the past. “There is no justification among decent people for murdering and mistreating children. Then we turned on one another. The Austrians were encroaching, England has never been our friend for long, the Prussians weren’t to be trusted, and I was exhausted. I made the right choice to come to this island. A time arrives when bravery is foolishness. If now is that time, then live to regret your decision, but don’t be so brave you end up needlessly dead.”
“You counsel retreat.”
“If you die with a sword to the heart, nobody will be left to spoil me and bring me tarts,non?”
Ann could make that tart and would enjoy experimenting with its variations. She had, in fact, battled long and hard for the privilege of making tarts and wasn’t likely to walk away from her victories for the sake of marriage to him.
“Has Jeanette brought her husband around?”
“Oui. Mr. Dorning est trés charmant—et astucieux. Charming and shrewd, as the English say. He is in love with Jeanette, and she with him. Nettie likes them both.”
That was good, and painful. “Jeanette is family to Nettie, and they should know one another.” Orion rose, and three more snowflakes drifted past. He felt abruptly old and sad, though he had much to be grateful for. “I will come for my sonnet next week.”
“See yourself out,” Tante said. “The hallway is cold, and the tea is still warm. If I had to choose between winter in Provence and winter in London, I know which one I would pick, Orion. Which one anybody with sense would pick.”
That choice was easy, but for Orion, the choice between winter in Provence and anywhere with Ann Pearson was much more difficult.
* * *
The agencies had respondedto Ann’s inquiries swiftly: Nobody sought to hire a cook.
London was shifting into winter hibernation, when those able to do so left the capital for country abodes, and those who could not socialized much less than in other seasons.
Ann was seeking employment at the worst time of year. And that realization had made the need to review the officers’ dinner menu with Melisande all the more pressing. Over a pot of unremarkable China black, Ann presented the dessert options.
“The syllabub is so…” Melisande made a face. “So pedestrian, and cranachan isScottish.”
As was some of the best whisky, and Ann doubted very much that the brigadier would quibble over its nationality.
“The pear compote has been very popular at the Coventry,” Ann said, “and you could have it brought to the table in a flaming sauce.”
“Flaming dishes always create an impression,” Melisande said, considering the recipe. She would no more be able to grasp the result of following the instructions than Ann could imagine battle tactics given a map of unknown terrain, and yet, Melisande dithered.
“And tell me, Ann, what of a wine pairing with the pear dish?”
“Champagne would go very nicely and make an unusual choice.”
“Emily Bainbridge never serves champagne.”
Which had exactly nothing to do with completing a meal on a spectacularly sophisticated and delectable note of sweetness.
“Mrs. Bainbridge certainly avails herself of the free champagne on offer at the Coventry.”
Melisande sent Ann a considering glance. “She does?”
“That champagne is a hallmark of the club’s late-night hospitality, and Mrs. Bainbridge enjoys a liberal portion.”
