Page 41 of A Housekeeper for the Earl of Drinkwater
Mrs. Chantry’s eyes widened again.
“Lord Drinkwater was with her?” she asked.
Serena nodded again.
“He asked to join us for tea and pastries,” she said. “And, of course, the countess was very pleased. I believe she finally spoke because of him.”
Mrs. Chantry grew thoughtful and shrugged.
“I think, maybe, there was more to it,” she said. “There is something to be said for kindness and compassion, and you have shown her more of that in a few weeks than I believe she has had in months. Perhaps longer.”
Serena blushed, smiling shyly.
“I could never presume to believe that I had anything to do with what happened today,” she said. “But whatever made today possible, I am most certainly grateful for it.”
Mrs. Chantry clapped, grinning again from ear to ear.
“Well, that means we must begin ensuring that there are proper meals prepared once again,” she said.
Serena’s smile wilted, and she bit her lip.
“Well,” she said sheepishly. “I tried some of the other recipes you gave me on the same day when I made the almond pastries. Those came out so well that I thought I would try making lunch to go with them. But everything else came out terribly. I believe I was simply lucky with the pastries.”
Mrs. Chantry laughed, her cheeks turning a pleasant shade of rosy.
“Well, what about me teaching you how to cook myself?” she asked.
Serena gasped.
“But are you well enough?” she asked.
Mrs. Chantry shrugged.
“We shall find out tomorrow, if you like,” she said.
Serena looked at the housekeeper. She did, indeed, look as though she felt much better. But what about her other duties?
“Should we ask Lord Drinkwater for permission?” she asked.
The elderly housekeeper thought for a minute, then nodded.
“I shall speak with him tomorrow morning,” she said. “I am certain he will not mind. Just meet me in the kitchens when you are ready for the day, rather than coming here.”
Serena grinned and nodded.
“I am looking forward to it,” she said. And she was.
***
She was not immediately concerned when she reached the kitchens the following morning and Mrs. Chantry was not already waiting for her. Rather, she began to hum to herself, pulling mixing bowls, pans, wooden spoons, and sharp knives off the freshly polished shelves.
She arranged them all neatly on the enormous kitchen table in the centre of the room. After careful thought, she decided to fetch some flour and salt, as well as a slab of pork and some fresh vegetables, and put those on the table with the utensils. Then, she turned to the great black range that Emily kept burning low at all times, wondering if she should have more wood.
She paused, deciding to wait for Mrs. Chantry. No sense in wasting wood until it was time to begin cooking. But when she checked the time on the old grandfather clock against the wall beside the door leading to the dining hall, she gasped. She had been in the kitchen for over an hour, and the other housekeeper still had not arrived.
She bit her lip, afraid the earl might have told the senior housekeeper that Serena could not take the day to practice her cooking because she was needed elsewhere. But wouldn’t she still have come to tell Serena, so they could discuss what she was to do for the day instead?
What if she has had a relapse of the flu?Serena thought, dread building in her stomach. She unwillingly imagined the housekeeper, pale and frail in her bed once more, not unlike the countess had been when Serena had first seen her. With her hands behind her back, she began pacing the gray stone floor, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
