“Mr. Greaves has seen the way the viscount looks at you. He wants you here.”
“All the more reason for me not to stay,” Viola admitted.
Dear heaven, even helping out with his party was playing with fire.
“I understand your concern. His lordship is the most honorable man I know, but he is still a man and…if I may speak frankly, you are young and very pretty.”
“His party is held for the purpose of finding himself a wife. I do not think his new wife will want me around, nor do I wish to be here once he marries. His family will help me find a position as cook or possibly as companion to an elderly lady in London, or perhaps in a grand home in a Cornwall estate.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Perhaps I’ve said too much, but we’ve known each other for so very long and I would never do anything to hurt you. I’ll come here from time to time over the next week to test out recipes and get to know my way around this kitchen. It also helps to have your staff become familiar with me. But they areyourstaff. I promise you. Your position is secure.”
Mrs. Stringer gave her a hug. “You are a dear, Miss Ruskin. In that case, if I am given the choice, I would love to take the time to visit my sister. I shall stay if you truly have need of me, but otherwise, I am eager to go.”
It was just as the viscount had predicted.
Viola wished she understood the nature of people as well as he did. But for now, she had to prepare the fish and become acquainted with the viscount’s kitchen and staff. After a quick tour of the larder, she and Mrs. Stringer inspected the work her girls had done skinning and gutting the fish.
Viola smiled at Mrs. Stringer. “You have trained them well.”
She complimented the woman’s staff as well, and then began to prepare seasonings that were to go on the fish. Since they were all interested in what she was doing, she held a tutorial for them. “Half this batch will be served hot with crumbles of bread to be seasoned and then baked in the oven.” She then showed them which seasonings to use on the breadcrumbs. “Salt, pepper, and a little oil. Next, these fish will go in the oven to bake, but first we must season them with lemon, garlic, olives, and light salt and pepper. I sometimes add garlic to the breadcrumbs, but not if there is already garlic on the fish. It would then overpower the other flavors. The trick is always about balancing the flavors so that each stands out but does not annihilate the others.”
The remaining fish were to be served cold and coated in a layer ofmoyeunaisesauce, as the French called it, made from a blend of egg yolks, lemon juice, vinegar, mustard and salt which she mixed together in a bowl. She would add capers as a garnish.
Some of these ingredients were out of her own stock, but she knew the viscount would reimburse her for the expense. While she counted every ha’penny, he was under no such constraint.
To her delight, the kitchen staff was eager to learn more from her, including Mrs. Stringer who proved to be most cooperative. She even suggested making a fish pie as a third recipe, so Viola set aside two of the fish and baked those in a pie crust. All eyes were on her as she explained the nuances of elevating the crust to perfection. “One must keep the butter cool and do not overly knead the dough or roll it out too thin. Every little detail matters.”
“But will the crust not be too hard to eat?” one of the kitchen maids asked.
“Not if it is given proper respect and prepared as I indicated. There is no reason for it to be inedible. When mixed right and properly rolled out, it will be as delicious as the filling. Same when you are baking cakes, one never ought to stir the batter too much or you take the air out of it and the cake will never be light and airy.”
Finally, the fish courses were ready to be presented to the viscount and his father.
To her dismay, the viscount insisted on her presence in the dining room.
Mrs. Stringer nudged her forward. “You go on, love. Be proud of what you’ve prepared. I’m sure his lordship wants you to explain the various courses to him and his father. He’s proud of your work, too. Let him show you off a bit.”
“But what will his father think?”
The woman pinched her cheek and laughed. “He’ll think that Lady Trent will never forgive him if he doesn’t engage you as head cook for their London household.”
But Viola knew the earl would do no such thing. If anything, he would make certain to secure a position for her as far away from his son as possible. She washed her hands, patted her hair to brush back a few stray curls that had fallen over her brow as they’d worked in the hot kitchen, and finally strode into the dining room with her head held high.
The viscount rose and shot his father a warning glance to rise in her presence.
His father reluctantly complied.
“Come join us, Miss Ruskin. You can explain your recipes while we eat. I’ve had Greaves set a place for you beside us. You are to dine with us.”
She wanted to turn and run.
His father looked as though he was debating which of them to kill first, her or his son. But he said nothing and politely motioned for her to take the seat next to his. No doubt it was to ensure that she did not sit beside his son.
Her cheeks were on fire, but she nodded and cast him a sincere smile. “Thank you, my lord.”
The footmen then brought in all three selections of fish.
