Page 3 of A Moveable Feast
I briefly considered bringing my own knives, as a cook grows as accustomed to them as she does her own hands, but declined. I didn’t want to risk one getting lost in the commotion or an unskilled undercook ruining a blade.
Mr. Davis unbent enough to lay the bottles of wine into a few more boxes, cushioning them with straw. He carried these upstairs himself and set them into the waiting cart, admonishing the driver, who listened with a disagreeable frown, not to jolt them in any way.
Tess and Mr. Davis helped me lug out the rest of the crates, fitting them carefully into the cart. Once we were finished, and Tess had climbed up to ride with the driver, I realized there was no room for me.
“I can walk, Mrs. H.,” Tess declared, preparing to descend.
“No, indeed.” Tess was slim enough to perch on the small space on the driver’s seat, but my plump body would be too tight a fit. “It is a fine day for a stroll. Just mind that no one squashes the goods if you begin to unload before I reach the house.”
The driver, who apparently concluded we’d lingered long enough, started the large horse. Tess, clearly unhappy, gazed back at me as they rolled away.
Mr. Davis had already retreated to sulk, so I descended one final time to the kitchen, folded a clean apron into a basket to which I added a few sealed pots of spices, and donned my coat and hat.
The most direct route to Portman Square was west along Mount Street to Park Street—one over from the sumptuous Park Lane—and then straight north until I reached the square.
I had just crossed Oxford Street when a delivery van pulled by a large draft horse rolled to a halt beside me. “Mrs. Holloway,” came its driver’s cheerful call. “Can I be of assistance? I can save your feet, if nothing else.”
Chapter 2
Daniel McAdam, his tall son James beside him, grinned cheerfully down at me, never minding other carts and wagons who now had to pull around him.
My gladness in seeing Daniel unnerved me a bit. We’d grown more tender with each other of late, but I was a cook, while he worked in some capacity for the police when he was not driving a delivery vehicle. Ours was not the romance of legends, and my heart had no business leaping high every time I beheld the man.
I strove to sound offhand. “I have not far to go now, so it is no matter. Thank you for the offer, of course.”
Daniel’s sunny smile barely dimmed. “Where are you heading on this fine Saturday afternoon? The markets are in the other direction.”
I adjusted the heavy basket on my arm. “Mrs. Bywater ordered me to cook Easter dinner at the home of her friend in Portman Square. Not an hour ago, this was.”
At last, I’d managed to astonish him. Daniel handed the reins to James, who was equally astonished, and scrambled down.
“Portman Square?” Daniel asked me sharply.
I eyed him in trepidation. “Please do not tell me you are stalking a horrible criminal in Portman Square and that I, Tess, and the guests will be in grave danger there.”
“No, no.” Daniel said this too quickly for my taste. “I am surprised, is all. What has happened?”
I hardly had time to stand in the street and chat, but this was Daniel. He soon had the entire story out of me.
“Inconsiderate of her,” Daniel agreed when I finished. “Mrs. Bywater is the sort of woman who doesn’t quite believe other people are human, isn’t she? They exist as characters in her personal drama, with no lives of their own when they have left the stage.”
I hadn’t thought of it like that, but Daniel’s description was apt. “In any case, I must be off. Tess went ahead with the supplies, and I do not want the kitchen staff browbeating her. Who knows if they were told she was coming with me?”
“Tess is a resilient young woman,” Daniel reminded me. “You have given her much confidence. I agree with Mrs. Bywater in one respect—you will do a fine job of it, even rushed in a strange kitchen with unfamiliar staff.”
“Very kind,” I said with irritation. “I’d rather not have the bother, thank you very much.”
Instead of being contrite, Daniel continued cheerily, “One day, you’ll be able to put your feet up for good. I promise.”
My heart fluttered, and I admonished it. Did Daniel mean he’d accomplish this scenario on my behalf? Or only that it was inevitable?
“That day seems very far away,” I replied grumpily. “I’ll likely be too old and doddering to walk at all, by that time.”
“Poor Kat.” I read sympathy in Daniel, even as he laughed at me. “Be resolute until Monday, and then I will give you and Grace a grand afternoon out.”
“I apologize for my temper,” I said in sudden remorse. “I was caught by surprise by my mistress’s impulsiveness. This means I cannot promise you a good meal if you stop to chat Sunday night. Though I’d be happy to see you, in any case.”
As we stood on the street, Daniel did not try to press my hand, or heaven forbid, kiss me, but he leaned close and spoke in a low voice. “I will be happy to see you at any time.”
