and the small scones Kate had offered on the previous day, so today she made a madeira cake and a jam sponge and, while they were baking, made herself a pot of tea and sat down to drink it.
As soon as Claudia left, she would ask for her day and a half off and go home and do nothing. She enjoyed cooking, but not when everything she cooked was either criticised or rejected. Claudia, she reflected crossly, was a thoroughly nasty young woman.
The cold salmon and salad that she had served for dinner the previous evening had been pecked at, and when Lady Cowder had urged her guest to try and eat something, Claudia had smiled wistfully and said that she had always been very delicate.
Kate had said nothing—but in the kitchen, with no one but the kitchen cat to hear her, she’d allowed her feelings to erupt.
Sally, Mrs Pickett’s niece, arrived later in the afternoon. She was a strapping young girl with a cheerful face and, to Kate’s relief, a happy disposition. She served tea while Kate got on with her cooking, and then joined her in the kitchen. Mrs Pickett was there too, clearing away bowls and cooking utensils, making endless pots of tea, laying out the tableware and the silver and glass.
Kate, with the duck safely dealt with and dinner almost ready, went to the dining room and found that Sally had set the table very correctly. There was a low bowl of roses at its centre, with candelabra on either side of it, and the silver glass gleamed.
‘That’s a marvellous job,’ said Kate. ‘You’ve made it look splendid. Now, when they have all sat down I’ll serve the soup from the sideboard and you take it round. I’ll have to go back to the kitchen to see to the duck while you clear the dishes and fetch the hot plates and the vegetables. I’ll serve the duck and you hand it round, and we’ll both go round with the potatoes and the veg.’
The guests were arriving. Kate poked at her hair, tugged her skirt straight and went to open the door. It was the local doctor and his wife, both of whom greeted her like old friends before crossing the hall to their hostess and Claudia who was a vision in pale blue. Following hard on their heels came Major Keane and his wife, and an elderly couple from Thame who were old friends of Lady Cowder. They brought a young man with them, their nephew. He was good-looking and full of self-confidence. And then, five minutes later, as Kate was crossing the hall with the basket of warm rolls ready for the soup, Mr Tait-Bouverie arrived.
He wished her good evening and smiled at her as she opened the drawing room door. Her own good evening was uttered in a voice devoid of expression.
Mindful of her orders, Kate waited ten minutes then announced dinner and went to stand by the soup tureen. Claudia, she noticed, was seated between the nephew and Mr Tait-Bouverie and was in her element, smiling and fluttering her eyelashes in what Kate considered to be a sickening manner. A pity Sally hadn’t spilt the watercress soup down the front of the blue dress, thought Kate waspishly.
Dinner went off very well, and an hour later Kate helped clear the table after taking coffee into the drawing room. Then she went to the kitchen, where the three of them sat down at the kitchen table and polished off the rest of the duck.
‘You’re tired out; been on your feet all day,’ said Mrs Pickett. ‘Just you nip outside for a breath of air, Kate. Me and Sally’ll fill the dishwasher and tidy up a bit. Go on, now.’
‘You don’t mind? Ten minutes, then. You’ve both been such a help—I could never have managed…’
It was lovely out in the garden, still light enough to see around her, and warm from the day’s sunshine. Kate wandered round the side of the house and onto the sweep in front of it, and paused to look at the cars parked there: an elderly Daimler—that would be the doctor’s—Major Keane’s Rover, a rakish sports car—the nephew’s no doubt—and, a little apart, the Bentley.
She went nearer and peered in, and met the eyes of the dog sitting behind the wheel. The window was a little open and he lifted his head and breathed gently over her.
‘You poor dear, shut up all by yourself while everyone is inside guzzling themselves ill. I hope your master takes good care of you.’
Mr Tait-Bouverie, coming soft-footed across the grass, stopped to listen.
‘He does his best,’ he observed mildly. ‘He is about to take his dog for a short stroll before returning home.’ He looked at Kate’s face, pale in the deepening twilight. ‘And I promise you, I didn’t guzzle. The dinner was superb.’
He opened the door and Prince got out and offered his head for a scratch.
‘Thank you,’ said Kate haughtily. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’
‘A most pleasant evening,’ said Mr Tait-Bouverie.
Kate heaved a deep breath. ‘Probably it was, for you. But this was supposedly my half-day off, and on Sunday, when I should have a full day, I am not to have it because Miss Travers is staying on.’ Her voice shook very slightly. ‘We—I and my mother—were going to spend the day at Thame, looking at the shops. And my feet ache!’
She turned on her heel and walked away, back to the kitchen, leaving Mr Tait-Bouverie looking thoughtful.
CHAPTER TWO
MR TAIT-BOUVERIE strolled around the garden while Prince blundered around seeking rabbits, his amusement at Kate’s outburst slowly giving way to concern. She had sounded upset—indeed, he suspected that most girls would have given way to floods of tears. Knowing his aunt, he had no doubt that Kate was shown little consideration at the best of times and none at all when Lady Cowder’s wishes were likely to be frustrated. He had been touched by her idea of a day’s outing to Thame to look at the shops. The ladies of his acquaintance didn’t look at shop windows, they went inside and bought whatever they wanted.
He frowned as he remembered that she had said her feet ached…
Back in the house, Claudia fluttered across the room to him. ‘Where have you been?’ she wanted to know, and gave him a wide smile. ‘Are you bored?’ She pouted prettily. ‘Everyone here, except for Roland, is a bit elderly. ‘I’d love to walk in the garden…’
He had beautiful manners and she had no idea how tiresome he found her.
‘I’m afraid I must leave, I’m already late for an appointment.’
Claudia looked put out. ‘You’ve got a girlfriend…?’
He answered her in a bland voice which gave no hint of his irritation. ‘No, nothing as romantic, I’m afraid. A patient to check at the hospital.’
‘At this time of night? It will be twelve o’clock before you get back to town.’
‘Oh, yes. But, you see, people who are ill don’t observe conventional hours of sleep.’ He smiled down at her pretty, discontented face. ‘I must say goodbye to my aunt…’
Lady Cowder drew him a little apart. ‘You enjoyed your evening?’ she wanted to know. ‘Isn’t Claudia charming? Such a dear girl and so pretty, is she not?’
‘Oh, indeed. A delightful evening, Aunt. The dinner was superb. You have a treasure in your housekeeper, if she did indeed cook it. A big task for her, I should imagine—but doubtless she has ample help.’
‘Oh, Kate can do the work of two,’ said
