Page 29 of Miss Dauntless
Where had Matilda Merridew learned to make bouillabaisse? WherewasMatilda, for that matter?
“What else does Missus know about?” Tremont asked.
“Men with sore heads, would be my guess,” Cook said. “She don’t suffer fools, that one, and the lads know it. Dantry tried to give her some sass, and she just give him the ‘you-should-be-ashamed-a-yersel’ eye. Davis kicked him under the table, and that be that.”
“A woman learns the hard way that she can’t bluff,” Nan said, pouring herself another cup. “Missus would have drummed Dantry out o’ the regiment if he’d kept it up. Coulda heard a snowflake hit the winda, got so quiet.”
Dantry was one to test authority. Tremont should have expected that. “I’ll have a word with Dantry,” he said, rising. “Insubordination and disrespect—”
Matilda marched into the kitchen, her plain beige dress covered by a spotless full-length apron. “You will do no such thing, my lord. Mr. Dantry and I understand each other quite well, and if you take him to task, he will sulk. Good day.” She bounced a curtsey at Tremont. “Ladies, I must steal his lordship from you, though I’m sure you are anxious to get back to your duties.”
Nan finished her whole cup of tea at once. “That, I am. The rugs don’t beat themselves, I always say.”
“Nor does the goose pluck itsel’,” Cook said, pushing to her feet and following Nan to the back hallway. “No rest for the wicked.”
They bustled out the back door like a pair of naughty schoolgirls, leaving Tremont to face a woman who was apparently not at all glad to see him.
“Is something amiss?” Lord Tremont asked, his tone perfectly polite.
“You must not abet them,” Matilda said, trying without success to undo the bow at the back of her apron. “Cook likes to cook, but there’s much more to running a kitchen than preparingthe food. One must tidy up—regularly and well. The larders must be inventoried, lest half the day be spent in last-minute trips to market. The regular marketing must be undertaken early in the day before the best produce has been picked over. One must find new recipes, or the menus never change. Silver wants polishing… Drat this apron!”
Tremont circled behind her. “Allow me.”
Matilda stood still while his lordship plucked at the ties of her apron. She flinched when he gave the bow a hard tug, and then he was facing her again.
“Shall I cut the blasted thing off you?”
“Please do not. This is my only good apron. I was in a hurry this morning, and I tied it too tightly.”
Tremont regarded her. “And why were you in a hurry?”
“Because Jessup and Jensen were squabbling outside my apartment door, and Nan’s reaction was to offer to hold the men’s bets. That provoked the combatants to greater flights of vituperation, and then MacIvey and MacPherson came along, and MacIvey put Tommie on his shoulders so Tommie had a better view of the argument as the inevitable crowd formed. I did not know whether to chastise Nan, the maids, MacIvey, or the lot of them at once. That altercation began the day on the wrong foot. Then I find Nan and Cook enjoying one of their eight daily pots of tea,again,when the washing has long since been dry on the lines and is just begging to be rained upon.”
A beat of silence followed that tirade, then Tremont circled around behind her again. “The new officer is always subjected to a few tests of authority. Hold still.”
For Matilda to merely wait while a man, unseen, fussed with her clothing was unaccountably unnerving. A few more tugs and a good hard pull, and the knot was undone.
“How did you resolve the altercation?” Tremont asked as Matilda extricated herself from her apron.
“I sent Jessup and Jensen to neutral corners—one to inventory the linen, the other to canvass the attics. You have furniture up there, furniture the men might refurbish and sell. Amos Tucker apparently knows how that’s done. He apprenticed to a cabinetmaker before the war. Why are you looking at me like that?”
Tremont’s perusal had taken on a considering look, as if he might be doubting the wisdom of hiring a widow to manage a lot of hooligans and streetwalkers.
“We were to review the books today,” he said. “I suggest we undertake that task at my house. You could do with some fresh air and a ramble, while I… I think better when I walk, and the situation here wants some thought. I didn’t know Tucker was a cabinetmaker.”
“He’s not. He was recruited just six months shy of finishing his articles. His old master died while Tucker was off soldiering, and Tucker isn’t about to start the whole seven years over in another shop, assuming one would take him on.”
“If you come home with me, I will order us a three-bell tea tray, and you can gobble up tarts to your heart’s content. Where’s Tommie?”
The notion of sitting down before a full tray, enjoying a cup of hot tea, and getting away from the house was all too appealing.
“Tommie is in the attic, chaperoning Jensen while she and Tucker argue over furniture.”
“He’s making a fort with Holland covers, old barrels, and discarded rugs and having the time of his life. Come have tea with me, and we can spat and scrap over the ledgers, shall we?”
“I don’twantto spat and scrap,” Matilda began, and Tremont smiled at her. Not the smug, self-satisfied smiles Harry used to toss her way when he’d argued her into a corner, but a purely understanding, good-humored smile of commiseration.
“What do you want?” he asked.
