Mollified, the cook conceded, "It will be a masterpiece, my Christmas supper. We shall have canards a la rouennaise, turbot in lobster sauce, and a variety of roasted meats such as goose, beef, and venison."
Mira thought the selection was excessive. To her, a simple Christmas goose would have sufficed. "Dear me. As I said, you will certainly be working miracles."
"Ah. They say I used to be the best cook in all of France," he gloated.
"I'm sure you must have been! But assuming I stay out of your way… if you could show me where the baking room is, I wouldn't bother you in the least."
He narrowed his eyes and considered her silently for one long moment. "Very well, milady. I shall make an exception this time only because it is Christmas. You may use my baking room."
ChapterSeventeen
The baking roomwas an adjoining little room to the kitchen consisting of a massive oven. Baking tins and copper pans were stored in the shelves along the wall, and a narrow table, smaller than the one in the main kitchen, stood in the middle of the room. This was where they made bread, pies, and tarts.
Mira tied a long linen apron around her dress and began mixing the ingredients for the dough.
She'd always loved baking. Working with her hands soothed her agitated mind and helped her think. She used to bake with Miss Pearson, back when they lived in their cottage. But as a housemaid she'd had no opportunity to do so.
After she'd worked out a smooth lump of dough, she realised she didn't have any biscuit cutters.
When she asked the scullery maid, the girl returned with a whole drawer full of moulds, biscuit cutters, and cake stamps.
Mira emptied the drawer onto the table and began to sort through them.
"Somehow I knew I'd find you here," a voice said from the door. Mira looked up sharply.
Kit was leaning against the doorframe, watching her.
"Milady insisted, milord," Monsieur Petit said, poking his head through the door. "I said no, out of the question, but milady wrapped me around her little finger, eh. Now she's baking when she should be celebrating with the other guests upstairs! What has the world come to?"
"It's all right, Petit. You may leave." Kit shoved the man out of the room and closed the door.
"Your cook says he's never heard of fairings, and he looks down upon simple sugar biscuits, which I find excessively odd." Mira lifted a square biscuit shape. "Really, my lord, you have every kind of luxury in this house but no proper biscuit cutter? Some of these look ancient and quite misshapen." She shook her head. "I need a snowflake. You can't have Christmas without them."
Kit looked at the pile of biscuit cutters on the table and inspected them. "You're right, there's no snowflake," he said. "I'll make you one."
He left, returning shortly with a hammer and a pair of pliers. He chose a larger, misshapen square and skilfully shaped it into a snowflake.
"Make it pretty. With six prongs," Mira ordered, "just like we had back home."
"I remember. Like this?" He lifted a small snowflake with six dainty points.
"Yes. Very pretty. Make a bigger one. Not too big. A medium-sized one."
"As my lady wishes," he murmured, and went on to make another.
Kit made snowflake after snowflake, and Mira rolled the dough and began to cut out the biscuits.
After a while, he set aside the pliers. "Let me do it. I've always been better at cutting out biscuits than you. You always leave too much dough between the shapes." That was true. He took the cutter and pressed it into the dough.
"I haven't done that since I left Cornwall." He looked at his work with satisfaction.
They worked in silence for a while.
"What's she like?" he asked suddenly.
Mira knew immediately whom he meant. She thought for a moment as she wiped her floured hands on her apron. "Cheerful. Lively. Never stops talking. Stubborn like her father when she puts her mind to something she wants. Cries if you step on an ant or if she sees a dead fly. Hates eating turnips, just like you." She smiled. "She has your eyes."
"By Jove." He drew his hand over his face. "How on earth did you cope all on your own? With a child, too?"
