‘And I really ought to get back. Raoul is there at the moment and wanted the kitchen to himself for a while,’ said Justin.
‘He doesn’t want you stealing his secret recipes,’ said Meg solemnly.
Justin laughed, as he was supposed to. ‘That will be it. I’ll be off then.’
As he set off round the house to where he’d parked his car, Meg noted that he was still limping just a little bit.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Tell me,’ Russell asked. ‘Why was that Justin chap so on his guard?’ They were in the drawing room which, Meg was delighted to see, was looking particularly lovely. Evening sunshine came through the French doors, filling the room with watery light and reflecting off the polished floor and the furniture. The smell of the wisteria that climbed up the outside of the house wafted through the open windows, adding to the fragrance of a large arrangement of flowers that someone – it must have been Ambrosine – had put on a table.
Meg sighed. ‘I don’t really know. But if he had his way, the hotel would be sold. But he has been really helpful lately so I don’t know. He’s naturally bad-tempered, of course. So many chefs are.’ But when he wasn’t being grumpy he could be very kind – and there had been that moment which haunted her dreams when he’d almost kissed her.
‘Present company absolutely excepted with regard to bad-tempered chefs,’ said David, going to the drinks tray on the hunt for glasses. He poured from the bottle he’d brought with him. ‘Now tell me if that isn’t liquid honey!’
Everyone took a sip. ‘That is delicious!’ said Meg. ‘I wonder if you could make jelly with it? Is it too sweet for a syllabub, I wonder?’ Seeing David look at her questioningly, she went on, ‘I was doing the puddings and desserts for Justin’s hotel. He told me about dessert trolleys. I knew about them, of course, but I hadn’t thought of doing one for here, but they’re fun.’
She got up. ‘Now, can I leave you chaps to look after yourselves? I need to see what’s going on in the kitchen before Vanessa and her ladyship arrive.’
‘I think we should take our drinks into the garden,’ said Russell. ‘I want to look at where we might put on the play.’
‘Good idea!’ said David. ‘I’ll bring the bottle.’
‘I have to say that young Justin has turned into a very helpful person,’ said Susan as soon as Meg arrived. ‘He’s made all the escalopes or whatever you call those bits of pork dipped in egg and breadcrumbs and also whipped a large bowl of cream so you can fill those tiny meringues you made. Dolly-sized, I reckon.’
‘I’m glad he made himself useful,’ said Meg, feeling pleased, but also a bit on edge. ‘David and his friend Russell, who seems very nice but quite actorish, if you know what I mean, are going round the garden to look for where the play might be put on.’
‘Plays in the garden? Whatever next!’ said Susan. ‘Mind you, I think there are old photos of the family doing theatricals in the garden. More pageants than plays, really. You should talk to Ambrosine. She foundout all about it when she was writing her little book about the house.’
‘Oh, really?’ Meg was heartened by this; if it had been done in the old days, perhaps it wasn’t such a silly idea after all.
Teatime was now definitely over and Meg was wondering if she should add the little meringues to the dessert trolley or if they would be soggy by dinnertime when she heard another car. Lady Lennox-Stanley and Vanessa – it must be them!
She almost ran into the hall, opened the front door and was joined by David, who was approaching from the garden. There was no sign of Russell. It wasn’t much of a reception, there were no uniformed staff in a line, but Meg hoped that Lady Lennox-Stanley wouldn’t feel it was a shabby greeting.
David had gone out to open the car door but as Lady Lennox-Stanley exited from it, Meg heard her say, ‘I can’t believe we’re finally here!’ She wasn’t saying it in an excited way, but as one who felt they had been hard done by. Meg remembered this woman was her friend Lizzie’s mother-in-law. Poor girl!
Lady Lennox-Stanley was wearing a very elegant suit that had probably been made for her in Paris, and with it a matching hat which included a veil.
In spite of David’s accompanying arm, and Vanessa’s soothing mutterings, Lady Lennox-Stanley was obviously not in a good mood.
Meg took a breath and put her shoulders back. She stepped forward. ‘How lovely to see you, LadyLennox-Stanley. Did you have a wretched journey? Do come in.
‘Vanessa,’ she added quietly, ‘so glad you’re here.’
Vanessa made an apologetic face out of her mother’s vision.
‘Nessa, do you think your mother would like to visit the powder room?’ said Meg, thinking of the least explicit name she could think of.
‘If you mean, do I need the lavatory, I wish you’d say so,’ Lady Lennox-Stanley snapped. ‘And yes, I do!’ She glared at Meg from under her veil.
‘Follow me,’ said Meg, ushering her ladyship into the ladies’ room on the ground floor. Susan had found linen towels, a cake of soap from Floris and Ambrosine had put some flowers in an antique vase in there. Meg knew this small room had never looked grander.
‘I’m sorry she’s so grumpy!’ wailed Vanessa. ‘She’s been ghastly ever since we had lunch with her friend who said something that really got her goat. Oh, David, I’m so glad Meggy’s got you! My mother would eat her alive otherwise.’
What little confidence Meg had in herself to deal with this situation melted. ‘Just tell me, Nessa, tea or alcohol?’
‘Both,’ said Vanessa and David as one. ‘I bloody well deserve a drink,’ Vanessa added.
