“You’ve been busy.” Julia presented a box. “I hope you have room for a crystal bowl.”
“It’s lovely,” Susan said, peeking under the lid. “How generous everyone has been. The table setting is Alexandra’s gift, and Sir Lionel—”
As if on cue, he emerged from the kitchen. “I tasted the sauce and complimented the chef.” He clicked his heels. “Doctor Lewis, always a pleasure to see you.”
“I was about to say that the lovely decanter and glasses are your gift. I’ve tried to persuade Lionel to join us to no avail.”
“Alas,” he said, pulling on his gloves, “duty calls in the form of a luncheon invitation from Mrs. Gathorne-Hardy. And a gloomy affair it’s bound to be.”
When Sir Lionel raised Susan’s hand to his lips, Julia read a gesture beyond common politeness. She remembered Susan’s consultation and thought,Perhaps she does have a particular gentleman in mind.
After Sir Lionel left, Susan opened the door to the kitchen. “And Princess Louise—”
“Is busy in the kitchen,” the princess said, suspending a wooden spoon over a saucepan. “My gift. Pots and pans.”
“And cooking lessons, although I’m a backward pupil.”
“Nonsense,” Princess Louise said, dipping the spoon intothe pot. “Dearest Papa insisted we children learn, so anyone can. We’re dining this afternoon on the consommé I prepared at Marlborough House, cutlets in white wine sauce, and my oyster pâté. What could be easier?”
Susan smiled and said, “Do you remember the French ambassador?”
“My shining moment,” the princess said, ladling the broth into a tureen.
“The ambassador complimented the pâté and was agog when Princess Louise thanked him and explained her recipe.”
“The French think they alone understand food,” Princess Louise said, reaching behind her to untie her apron. She breezed past them, carrying the consommé into the dining room.
When they finished the last course of cheese, pears, and dried figs, Julia complimented the cook and thanked her hostess.
“The pleasure is all mine. It’s a delight to share a first meal in my new home.”
Princess Louise sighed. “How lucky you are to have rooms of your own.”
“Lady Quarles said the same thing to me.”
“She married one of my brother’s courtiers,” Princess Louise said to Julia.
“Lady Quarles declared that she would rent a flat if she could sign a lease,” Susan said. “I’d forgotten married women can’t. The law allows widows and single ladies to do so.”
“But not unmarried princesses,” Louise said.
Julia said, “I signed the lease for my building and arranged sundry contracts for services to the clinic. All that would be impossible if I married.”
“Not if you married the right person.” Susan smiled. “Someone who would sign without question.”
“Hmm … perhaps.” Julia glanced up at the clock on the mantel.“I wondered. Is there a cabstand nearby? I told Mister Ogilvie I wouldn’t need him to return with our carriage.”
“MisterOgilvie?” Princess Louise said. “How democratic.”
“Blame my American grandmother. ‘Servants’ were ‘staff.’ And when I was a child, she expected me to use surnames and titles for adults. So, he’ll always be Mister Ogilvie to me.”
“I like that,” the princess said.
Susan raised an eyebrow. “Will you ‘mister’ John Brown from now on? Please tell me when you’ll begin so I can sell tickets.”
“Odious, odious man. Andhisbrother, who looks aftermybrother Leopold, is worse. But the queen will hear nothing against the Browns. Walter tried—”
Susan knocked over the pepper shaker. “Clumsy of me. Thank goodness it wasn’t the salt. That would be an unlucky end to my first luncheon party.” She stood. “Shall we move to more comfortable chairs? Princess Louise has news for you, Doctor. A letter came from Germany.”
