‘Eight o’clock,’ said Lady Lennox-Stanley.
‘Eight o’clock it is,’ said Russell quickly. ‘I’m sharp set, as my father used to say.’
‘What about your luggage?’ asked Meg, suddenly aware that her mother’s job entailed far more than she realised.
‘We’ll sort that out,’ said David. ‘You go and see to dinner.’ He smiled sympathetically. He knew dealing with the likes of Lady Lennox-Stanley would be hard for Meg and she’d far rather rustle up a four-course meal for twenty.
Chapter Nineteen
Meg had just finished shelling eggs so she could halve them with a delicious sauce involving cream and sherry and a little curry powder when Vanessa came in.
‘Hello, Meg. Thank you so much for making everything so lovely for my mother.’
‘You must thank Susan and Cherry for that,’ said Meg. ‘You ironed the sheets again once they were on the bed, didn’t you, Susan?’
‘I did. I have my pride. I’m glad her ladyship was satisfied.’ Susan was still a bit suspicious of Vanessa, but Meg hoped once Vanessa had been here for a couple of days, she’d be treated as part of the family.
‘It’s all simply smashing,’ said Vanessa. ‘Flowers in the bathroom was a particularly nice touch.’
‘Ambrosine did those,’ said Meg.
‘Is there anything I can do now?’ Vanessa went on. ‘It’s such fun to be working. I’m finding home very difficult to live in at the moment.’
‘You could write out the menu. We don’t usually offer a choice but we thought – I thought – it wouldbe good to offer a bit more. If we’re trying to impress your mother.’
‘I’ve written so many thank-you letters for wedding presents, my handwriting is now really good, but it’ll seem strange you not eating with us,’ said Vanessa.
‘Obviously, I’d love to, but I’m cooking.’
Vanessa laughed. ‘You know perfectly well you’re delighted you’re cooking and not having to make polite conversation with my mother.’
‘You could nip in and out,’ suggested Susan. ‘The starters are cold anyway.’ There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye when she said this, Meg noticed.
‘I have to fry the escalopes freshly. They can’t hang around,’ Meg said firmly.
‘Keep them warm in the oven?’ suggested Susan.
‘Or you could join us when you’ve served the escalopes?’ said Vanessa. ‘You know David would love you to be there and I’m sure there are things Russell needs to talk to you about.’
‘I may join you for coffee in the drawing room,’ said Meg. ‘And should we light the fire in there? I know it’s not really cold but—’
‘Bob’s still here,’ said Susan. ‘I’ll get him to see to it before he goes off home. That room can be a little damp sometimes.’
‘There was extra, so I’ve made Bob something to eat,’ said Meg.
‘That’s kind, Meg. Although to be fair to him, he’s not one of those men who can’t feed themselves.’ She paused. ‘I suppose you want the butter putting into curls?’
Meg nodded. Dinner was almost ready; it was time for the fine-tuning.
Although she had thought she had plenty of time, Meg found it melted away and, before she knew it, she was taking Melba toast out of the oven and piling it on to silver dishes to serve with the pâté, should anyone order that. She took a couple of the dishes through so she could check the dining room.
Susan had done a very good job. The best linen, and polished silver candlesticks with new candles in them. (Despite the fact that, as Susan said, once candles were lit no one could tell if they were new or not, and she couldn’t abide waste.) But her economical instincts had been set aside and the dining room looked splendid.
All the tables had flowers and candles and a menu, even though only the two tables set for four would be used.
She glanced into the drawing room just to check no one needed more tonic, or, heaven forbid, more ice.
Ambrosine, spotting Meg in the doorway, waved, but obviously didn’t expect Meg to come in. She would have felt embarrassed in her chef’s whites among so much elegance. Lady Lennox-Stanley still wasn’t down although Bob had already been in and lit the fire.
