Once William leaves,I shower in the weird old private bathroom and decide to send Grumpy a message.
After a few attempts, I write carefully and nicely, and send:
Thank you for the bags and teas. It is I, the woman, Sam. PS If the master is hungry, please advise.
Twenty minutes later, I don’t have an answer.
I decide to send another, so I send:
Re you being hungry. I didn’t mean like ‘that.’ I meant food.
Another twenty minutes go by, and still nothing.
I suspect there is a rat in the pipe eating my messages, or they are not getting through. I am about to head off and remedy things when my own little bell rings on its copper cable.
I walk over to the pipe. I pull out a card and read.
Thank you for clarifying.
I relax some, even if the message is cold and impersonal. At least it had worked.
I hang a few things to dry in the bathroom and hobble down to the grand old kitchen. I
get a feel for it and the massive old pantry, not needing to interrupt, charming old William. It is extremely well-stocked, and even if ancient, it is oddly very fancy.
William appears and he walks me through a few things that I had not found. An hour later, I am back in my room.
As I look for a few favorite recipes in my notepad, my bellrings. I read the card, and again, it is another impersonal note, as if written by a robot.
May I have poached eggs and toast in the room next to kitchen at 10.00?
I check the time, quickly write back, and send.
As the good Sir commands.
I bite my lip and remember how his clean shirt had felt against my nipples last night in bed.
Realizing I am forgetting my place, I quickly get my recipe pad.
I step over an envelope William must have slipped under my door and decide to check it later.
First, I must understand the systems and feed Master Harry, aka cold Grumpy, his breakfast.
Pausing at my door, I notice clothes that have been delivered to my room. I move fast, not wanting to mess the job up much more, and I walk carefully down to the kitchen.
My leg hurts, but it’s the last thing I want anyone to know.
I decide to make Grumpy’s breakfast extra fancy. He can ask for simple, but I can deliver that, and more.
I prepare what he requested, but I also poach salmon on another plate before I add two rare French-style sauce options. I also create a rare walnut and pesto number.
I learned to prepare something similar in Rome, but this is all me.
I drizzle it around the dish, and finally, I shave different types of cheese and lay them around as if creating a piece of art.
It is a simple yet exquisite dish, like I did in London in the day. To devour it is like coming from the mouth.
After setting what I assume is the correct small table in the sun, and at exactly the time we’d agreed, I walk out with the simple breakfast.
