“Mrs. Stimpel does not often have someone to cook for, your Grace,” was all Luton said before he left the room.
Eva, who had never been a fast eater, took nearly forty minutes to finish the meal. Staggering out of her chair and feeling stuffed to her toes, she then asked Luton to take her to the kitchen where she would tackle Mrs. Stimpel first.
“If you will wait in the lemon parlor, your Grace, I will have Mrs. Stimpel brought to you.”
“That is not necessary, Luton - I am more than happy to go to her,” Eva skirted around the butler to head off in what she hoped was the correct direction.
She smelt the kitchen before it came into view. The sweet scent of spices tickled her nostrils as she walked into the heated room. She found the cook - a small, stout woman - scrubbing vegetables in a tub of water. Beside her, drinking tea and eating a large wedge of fruitcake, was an older lady, her grey hair scraped into a neat bun.
“Mrs. Stimpel?”
“Yes, I’m Hepitatia Stimpel,” the cook said. “And who are you?”
“The Duchess of Stratton,” Eva said, holding herself very still as the cook looked up.
Silence filled the kitchen as color came and went from Mrs. Stimpel’s cheeks. She lifted her hands out of the water and hastily wiped them on her apron. “Please, your Grace, accept my apologies. I…I was not aware… I mean, you should have sent for me, your Grace. Tis not right for you to be down here.”
Eva smiled as the woman hastened toward her. “Please, Mrs. Stimpel, do not concern yourself. We have not yet been introduced, therefore you did not know my identity.”And I do not look like a Duchess, Eva thought, looking down at her worn grey dress and faded leather boots. Her toes had made small, white marks in the black leather as she had grown. “I merely wished to discuss menus and meal sizes.”
“Your Grace,” the other lady said as she, too, came forward to meet Eva, “I am the housekeeper, Miss Sullivan.”
“I hope you were not displeased with the breakfast, your Grace?” Mrs. Stimpel rushed in.
“Oh, no,” Eva quickly said, looking at the horrified expression on the cook’s face. “The breakfast was wonderful and the eggs lighter than any I have tasted. However I do not have extravagant tastes and although my appetite is healthy, I would be happy with smaller meals.”
“Smaller meals, your Grace?”
“Yes, Mrs. Stimpel, smaller meals. And once the Duke has left, I would be happy with simple fare,” she added.
“Simple fare, your Grace?” The cook appeared confused at the concept.
How did one explain simple fare Eva wondered, having eaten it her entire life. Waving her hand vaguely, she said. “We will discuss my needs once the duke has left, Mrs. Stimpel. For now I would just like you to know that I do not eat a large amount of food. Therefore I have no wish to sit down to a meal the size of the wonderful but large breakfast you served me today.”
“Of course, your Grace,” the cook said, lowering her eyes and bobbing into a curtsy.
Next, Eva talked briefly to the housekeeper, assuring her that until she found her feet she was happy to leave things as they were.
Feeling a flush of elation as she left the kitchens over her success with the cook and housekeeper, Eva thought maybe she could establish a civilized relationship with her husband. Surely he would not get angry with her for approaching him? Throwing back her shoulders, she asked directions to his study and before long was knocking on the solid wooden door.
“Enter!”
Eva nearly ran as he roared out that single word, but instead, she gripped the handle and opened the door.
He rose slowly as she entered and, dear Lord, if possible his scowl had grown more menacing since yesterday.
“Good morning, your Grace.”
“You require something, Duchess?”
Eva forged on even though his tone did not suggest she should. “Would you care to take tea with me, your Grace?”
She stood very still while his slate-grey eyes ran over her. He looked like an angry beast that had been disturbed in his lair. His hair stood off his head, a shadow marked his jaw, which suggested he was in dire need of a shave, and his clothes appeared so rumpled, Eva wondered if he had, in fact, slept in them.
“Please accept my apologies, Duchess, but I have no time for tea this morning.”
Eva bit her lip as he held her gaze for several long-drawn-out seconds. His grey eyes were piercing in their intensity and she wanted to shuffle from one foot to the other like a child. Yet she was made of sterner stuff; she held herself still and waited.
“I will be leaving for London as soon as my work here is complete and I would like to reach there by the end of the week. Therefore I have little time for…tea.”
