‘All right then, I’ll see you later.’
‘What do you mean? Are you not having lunch?’
‘Yes, but I thought I’d be eating in the kitchen.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
I turned to see Nick scowling at me.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Of course we all eat in here together and always have – well, since my father died. Sit down.’
I took the seat he indicated next to Marilise, feeling stupid yet again. How was I to have known? From the way Steph and her best friend Dorothea talked about ‘the help’ and frowned on me having a job at all, let alone one they considered so menial, I had rather assumed I might be eating ‘below stairs’, although no one I had encountered so far at Lyonscroft – even Nick – had given even the vaguest impression that that might be the deal. I reddened as I contemplated my gaffe, then was comforted to feel a furry head and wet nose push against my hands under the table.
‘Hello, Steve,’ I said, pushing my chair back slightly to see him. ‘Have you come for some lunch, too?’
‘Not even he is consigned to the kitchen at mealtimes,’ said Nick, in a softer tone of voice, sitting down beside me. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, but you hit a nerve. My father was a terrible snob and a stickler for people “knowing their place” as he put it. I hate it. As we’ve already established, you’re a muchbetter person than me, anyway, and would be far more missed if it was you galloping off on the camel.’
He gave me a sudden grin, and his handsome face went from brooding to merry in an instant; I couldn’t help but smile back. Everyone was seated now, including Greg, to whom I was briefly introduced, and Angela asked us all to help ourselves from the array of dishes in the middle of the table. I served Marilise first, birdlike portions that I hoped were enough to fuel her properly, then myself: tiny roast potatoes, purple carrots and salmon en croute that made my mouth water just looking at it.
‘I grew the carrots,’ said Astrid proudly. ‘They’re a heritage variety and should be delicious; I hope you like them.’
‘Will you be able to grow them in Texas?’ asked Greg. ‘You’ve done a fine job with these.’
Astrid looked worried.
‘I think so,’ she said. ‘Although I’m not sure how much time I’ll have. We’ll see.’
Angela looked as though she were about to say something, then changed her mind and we ate in silence for a moment.
‘Oh, Nick!’ said India suddenly, producing a large, red envelope. ‘This came for you. Sorry, it’s a bit squashed. I took it from the postman at the top of the drive when I was riding.’
She passed the envelope to him, and he opened it, pulling a face when he saw the contents. I glanced across at what looked like a very smart invitation, in embossed black lettering on a card with gilded edges and smoothly rounded corners.
‘What is it?’ asked Astrid.
‘It’s the invitation to that Christmas charity concert at the Montgomerys’,’ he said. ‘I’ve been expecting it, but I was hoping they’d forget all about it. No such luck. I tried offering them a donation, but they’ve refused to take it unless I go in person; they said I owe it to the charity to show my face.’
‘What charity is it?’ I asked.
‘Blood cancer,’ replied Nick. ‘My mother died of leukaemia, so I’ve always supported it, and they know that it’s a surefire way of getting me there.’
‘And poor Nick doesn’t want to go and spend the evening being forced together with poor Minty, any more than she wants to be forced together with him,’ said India. ‘Maybe you should borrow Laura’s Cousin Itt outfit and go incognito.’
‘Araminta?’ I asked. ‘Who I met?’
‘That’s right,’ replied Nick glumly. ‘It’s her parents holding the concert and they’ve decided that she and I are the perfect match, despite the fact that neither of us agrees with them. Until one of us is married to someone else, they don’t look like giving up, and there’s no way I’d inflict myself in matrimony to anyone. Maybe I’d better rethink the Foreign Legion, after all.’
Talk turned to the family in question, and I checked on Marilise and finished my delicious lunch, thinking how glad I was that I had chosen my nomadic lifestyle and singledom; with men like this around, apparently permanently dissatisfied despite the silver spoon, knife and fork they had been born with, I was much better off.
When we had finished eating, I took Marilise back upstairs to prepare her for the doctor’s visit and her afternoon nap. I stayed to speak to the doctor, who, after we ran through the medications I would be administering, explained that Marilise needed plenty of rest, but should otherwise do whatever she felt strong enough for, including that evening’s party.
‘Being sociable is a sort of medicine for certain patients,’ she said. ‘I’d love to prescribe it for many more. Just watch her pulse, encourage her to eat little and often, and she’ll benefit.’
After she went, I drew the curtains and promised to wake Marilise in plenty of time to get ready for the evening, then Iwent to complete my next mission: familiarising myself with the layout of the house. Most of my jobs were in suburban semis or sheltered housing, but this was a different matter. If I was to look after Marilise properly, I would need to know where everything was so that I didn’t have to rely on her or other family members to constantly point me in the right direction.
I was relieved when the first person I bumped into downstairs was India.
