Chapter Three
Several hours of bitter cold and the occasional flurry of snow bought Harriet and Paul a day’s respite, since it delayed their journey a night.
The staff they’d hired arrived, the cook and her daughters eager to claim the kitchen, and the footmen and maids pleasantly surprised by the rooms they found allotted to them.
Harriet had taken over the household duties with a will, ruthlessly organizing her miniature ‘army’, making sure everyone was familiar with their duties, and that Cook had everything she needed.
“I’ll be making a list, Mrs. Harry,” said the woman. “There’s still things we need to get everything in hand.”
“Of course. Whenever you have it ready, I’ll see that it’s filled,” smiled Harriet. “We’re very glad you’re here, Mrs. Chester. You and your daughters.” She sat across the kitchen table, her hands neatly folded in front of her. “Since this is a hunting box, we’re hoping for mostly fresh and simple fare, which is…in my opinion…the tastiest food in the country.”
“It is that, Ma’am,” grinned Mrs. Chester. “Will the folks be wantin’ some Christmas dishes?”
“Oh yes, I believe that would be appropriate.” Harriet thought for a moment. “Certainly we’ll have a goose or two for Christmas Day, along with whatever dishes you feel would complement them. The pantry is well stocked, so I’ll leave the rest to you, but Christmas pudding—if you have any put by—would be a welcome addition to dessert. Mr. Paul and I couldn’t find any available in Pineneedle Drift.”
“I have several,” grinned the cook. “I always makes a few more than needed, just in case.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Then I can throw a couple of pies together as well, mince and maybe late apples…”
“My mouth is watering already.” Harriet rose. “I see you know exactly how to go on, so I shall not be bothering you at all. I simply ask that if you need anything, or have any questions, you find me? This isn’t going to be a long business; most of the gentry return to town once the festivities are over, so I doubt these guests will make a long stay of it. I think if we all work together, then we can make it through with no problems whatsoever.” She smiled. “Does that meet with your approval?”
“Absolutely, Ma’am. I’m eager to get cookin’. My family likes my food, but they’re used to it. It’ll be nice to cook for someone new.” Her round face beamed.
“I’ll leave you to it then. Make sure you have whatever you need, for your daughters as well.”
“I will and they’re doin’ fine. Happy to share a warm room and get their hands into cookin’ too. Reckon I may be raisin’ a couple of fine cooks to take over when I’m done.”
“Which won’t be for a long time, I’m sure.” Harriet nodded diplomatically and left the kitchen, eager to find Paul and see what he was up to.
She finally located him by dint of listening for his voice. What she heard could have turned the air around him quite blue, and he was discovered to be muffled up to his armpits in what looked like a cupboard full of wild animals.
“What onearth?”
They were in a very small vestibule area that led to a larger room with French doors leading out to what was probably a delightful summer vista, but at the moment was pretty much filled with white snow, and the occasional lump where a shrub slept away the winter months.
“Looks like fur storage,” he muttered, fighting off things with claws and teeth.
“Good assumption,” she said expressionlessly. The urge to collapse with laughter was overwhelming, but somehow she restrained herself. “Are you winning or will you be needing a rifle? I think I saw a gun cabinet somewhere…”
His grunt was audible, as he finally extracted himself from the fur-lined cavity. “I smell like a leg of lamb.” He removed a tippet that still showed the tail and head of one unfortunate fox.
She choked back a laugh. “I think you’ll find that’s the wormwood someone must have used to keep fleas away.” Moving nearer, she lifted one piece of fur. “Yes, these are definitely winter garments, and possibly a carriage blanket or two. I expect they were used when people went outside through those doors.” She looked back at him. “Should we air them out?”
He gave her a look of disgust. “Do we have to?”
“Well, no, but perhaps one piece might make a nice accessory to the master suite, for example…”
He sighed. “All right. Pick one.”
Harriet’s heart swelled as she realized the sacrifice he was making. He really didn’t like the smell or the idea that there was a cupboard full of dead animal skins tucked away in their house.
But he had listened and followed her suggestion.
She reached into the murky cupboard and let her fingertips wander until she came across something incredibly soft. With a small whisper of delight, she tugged out a sizeable blanket, realizing as it was revealed that it had to be something more exotic than badger or fox.
“Good selection,” approved Paul. “If I’m right, that’s Russian sable. I remember seeing it on my travels.” He ran his hand over the surface, then blew gently, revealing the under layer of tightly clustered hairs. “Yes. That’s it.”
