Читать книгу Christmas at Thornton Hall - Lynn Marie Hulsman - Страница 8

I headed for Dove’s Nest. I took my keychain from my pocket, and turned on my tiny flashlight, following its tight beam through the dark and the falling flakes. I opened the door – doors on the estate were almost never locked – and saw that Seamus had recently lit a fire and placed all of my things neatly on my bed. It was so nice to be cared for by a decent man. I wondered if I’d ever have one of my own.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and checked it. Five calls from Ben. Fuck Ben. A year of devotion and all I got for Christmas was another woman’s panties.

I set my trusty wind-up travel alarm clock and put on my red plaid, flannel pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks against the chill. But I was feeling agitated and too keyed up to sleep. I cursed myself for not bringing anything to read. Kicking my jeans aside, I saw Edward’s handkerchief fall out of the pocket. Rose can help me get the blood stain out tomorrow, I thought. Or, I don’t know, maybe he needs it. It is his handkerchief, after all. I could just give it to him tonight. And. And maybe borrow a book.

Edward and I were friends, I believed, even though we were so very different. He was a favorite of Lady Penelope, the Earl and Countess’s daughter, and she’d taken him from house to house before she’d married Jasper Roth. She always requested that he personally bring her tray when she took meals in her room, which was remarkably often, much to the annoyance of her husband. This was a breach of protocol – in a grand house, only the highest-ranking maids and butlers go into family quarters. Chefs remain in the kitchen. The nuances of English manners still manage to baffle me, but I do my best to play along. But Lady Penelope is a wild card. If she wanted to have a chef in her pocket, it was her prerogative.

And Edward’s skills were undeniable, so no one could say Lady P hired him just as eye candy. He’d started in the military, which he’d joined after his mother died, and once his stint was over, he’d been accepted at Le Cordon Bleu, London. On the strength of his training and admirable military record, he was cooking in fine English houses in no time. His haute-cuisine skills passed Roth’s muster, but Edward’s heart was plainly in his everyday cooking. Whenever MacGregor presented him with a goose, a wild turkey, or venison from the grounds, he made magic. When I’d first cooked at the hall, Edward introduced me to the kitchen library that Terrence loved so much. That whole south wall, shared with the laundry room, was lined with built-in bookcases and featured a collection of all the standard, rare, and antique cookbooks that attested to his wide-ranging curiosity. The shelves also featured guides to wild game and fish, scientific books on herbs and botanicals, and food photography. Edward pointed out all the family’s favorites, and his, too.

I use recipes as a guide and improvise from there, and that’s how I got really good, I think. Once I was out from under the thumbs of head chefs like Henri and that asshole from The Ivy I started to find my voice. When I got the chance to wing it, I felt exhilarated, and I did exactly that when I was cooking for myself or for friends. When I had employers with a more casual attitude, I got real job satisfaction from experimentation. And I’ll just say it straight – it felt good to have a tableful of diners who’d eaten all over the world fawn over me and tell me I’m the best. I’d never tell all that to Edward, though. I already felt vulnerable with him, like he could see right through me.

Although I enjoyed working with him, I wouldn’t say it was easy for me as I was always in a state of high emotion around him, either on the cusp of a laugh or irritation. He threw me off balance. It wasn’t like that with Ben. With Ben, I’d been grounded and alert, and I could keep my feet planted. I always knew what to expect with Ben. That is, right up until the moment I’d found another woman’s underwear in his flat. Instead I felt floaty around Edward, as if I wasn’t Juliet, but just an idea that hadn’t fully taken shape. Boy, I thought, if I admitted that to Mother, she’d have a phalanx of analysts tackling me and tying me to a couch.

Like one time, I’d been making a North Carolina-style brisket at Mr. Roth’s request, with molasses and white vinegar. It had to slow roast for seven hours in a huge Dutch oven. Without asking, Edward poked his head in the oven, lifted the pot lid and threw in a cup of brown sugar.

“Why would you do that?” I asked, angry. Roth wanted what he wanted, and I was supposed to give it to him.

He smiled devilishly. “Why not? Don’t you like it sweet?”

“Because opening the pot alters the cook time and the recipe doesn’t call for brown sugar! And how about because it’s my roast?” My blood was boiling and I couldn’t see straight. I was usually more level-headed than this in the kitchen. In fact, I had a reputation for being the very opposite of a temperamental chef.

“What’s the big deal?” he said amiably. “It’s good to stir things up a bit.” He was wearing a pair of oven mitts printed with winged, pink pigs on them. I was doubly infuriated by that whimsical touch. The kitchen was done in slate and mineral colors. All of the dishtowels, potholders and other linens were gray or black. Jasper Roth had had a heavy say in the recent renovation. Jasper would hate those mitts.

“The best surprises in life happen when you just say yes in the moment.” He either couldn’t see he was winding me up or he didn’t care. “What else?” he asked. “Do you think maybe a little scotch bonnet?” he added, grabbing a pepper off the counter and making toward the oven.

“No!” I shouted, reaching for the pepper, which he was holding high, just out of my reach. I’d promised Jasper Roth this specific dish and my name was on it. “Stop it, Edward, I mean it. Seriously, I mean it.” My voice was a bit too loud and I could feel I was red in the face.

“Does it always have to be ‘seriously’ with you, Jubes? Can’t it ever be fun?”

Lady Penelope poked her head through the swinging door just then. She looked from me, to Edward.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked Edward directly.

“No, Your Ladyship,” I answered, steadying my breath in an attempt to appear calm. “What can we get you?”

“Edward, if you’d be so kind,” she said, ignoring me, “I’d like a Nescafe in the dining room.” I could feel him glancing at my face, but I busied myself smashing the pits out of olives with the broad side of a French knife.

“Of course,” he said to Lady Penelope. He boiled the kettle and spooned coffee crystals into a cup, and set a tray while she stood watching. As he carried it out, I expected her to follow him. Instead, she walked up closely behind me.

“On second thought, put the tray on my vanity, will you Edward?” she called to him through the door. And then she said into my ear, “He’s not for you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What I mean to say is, he’s an excellent chef, but he’s rumored to be a Lothario. Just a word to the wise. You’re best to leave him alone.”

“There’s nothing between Edward and me, Your Ladyship.” As if it’s any of your business, I added in my head. “I have a fiancé.”

She glanced at my naked hand, and said, “Oh, don’t you wear your ring at work?”

Stammering, I said, “Well, we’re kind of… um… pre-engaged. Anyway, I have a boyfriend.”

“Ah, well, that’s a relief. For you, I mean,” she said.

Edward came back through. “I’ve set up your hot drink, Your Ladyship.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning and walking out the door.

I wiped my hands, picked up my French knife and got back to work. I couldn’t look at Edward. I felt foolish that I’d gotten that upset.

After a few beats, he said, “Don’t mind her. That’s her way.” And then he was very quiet for a while.

“It’s her house,” I said, impersonally.

“You know, Jubes,” he’d said to me, “it’d be nice if you’d loosen up – in the kitchen, I mean. Rules are meant to be broken.” He was a bundle of contradictions in appearance and manner. His hair was still cut in military style but he had a thick tribal tattoo on the top of his left forearm that peeked out of the sleeve of his chef’s coat. His uniform was always starched and spotless, but he sported unorthodox accents such as a heavy silver wallet chain or a thick, brown leather wrist cuff with an antique barn nail wrapped around it. And well groomed as he was, the shadow of a beard was always threatening to appear on his square jaw.

“In my book rules are meant to be rules. That’s why they’re called that. Rules.” I listened to myself talking, wondering why I was being such a prig. I sounded like Mother, a wet blanket on any hint of fun. I’d broken the rules in search of fun with Stephen, and I’d been left with egg on my face. Once bitten, twice shy. Better to be safe, I told myself. Still, a little black ball of longing was curled up in my stomach.

For the rest of that evening, we cooked, cleaned up and made our way to our cottages with very little conversation, and I’d slept like the dead. After any tour of duty with Edward at the Hall, I always returned to London exhausted. I decided that being in a heightened state all the time didn’t suit me. Better a calm routine, like the one Ben provided me.

Sometimes, though, I did find relaxation at The Hall. Sometimes, after dinner was cleaned up, we staff all sat together in the kitchen, cozily drinking wine and watching videos. I had a fine time doing jumbles, sudoku and crosswords with the others. Since Ben, I’d rarely passed the time this frivolously in my off days in London, the way I had with Posy, when I was single. There was always a biography to be read or a gallery to be visited. And I certainly never watched films like The Terminator or Airplane. At home, Ben and I took in documentaries, or French films, or Woody Allen. Edward teased me about wanting to be the “smart girl with my ducks in a row” and delighted in flustering me.

Edward and I took an occasional run together on the grounds. He’d pretend it was boot-camp, military style, and he always kicked my behind. From time to time, Lord Chinnerton, the Baron of Hinckley, would gallop by, enjoying the freedom to ride on his own land, and the land of his best friend alongside it. He was genial and casually friendly.

“Good afternoon!” he shouted on one occasion. “The rain has left us behind, at least for today. Fine day for some exercise.”

“It certainly is, Sir,” Edward had replied. “I’d venture Thunder thinks the same,” he said, approaching the horse’s muzzle and giving it a stroke. “Gorgeous!”

“Not as gorgeous as your pretty companion,” he tipped his riding helmet to me. “‘To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides,’ as the quote goes,” he said.

“Oh,” I responded, coloring. “It isn’t like that, Your Lordship. You see, we both cook at Thornton.”

“I’m sure you do, my dear,” he said wickedly. “See that you enjoy every minute of it.” He nudged Thunder on and galloped away, kicking up mud.

Sadly, it was all-too rare that we could find the time to sneak away to exercise, which was tragic, as Edward was an excellent baker and was always making double-batches for us staff… which we naturally gluttonously accepted. “You have to stop tempting me, or I’ll gain ten pounds,” I protested. He knew I found it impossible to say no to his sugary treats. Ben didn’t care for sweets and I didn’t really like to indulge when I was with him.

“More of you to love,” Edward had shrugged. His saying that made my heart hammer.

“A word of warning, Miss Juliet, if you don’t mind,” Seamus had said to me toward the end of my first stint at Thornton.

“Course I don’t mind,” I’d told him, worried that he was going to tell me that everyone in the drawing room was gagging on the cocktails I’d just sent out. I knew pairing hibiscus and mint was risky but hadn’t thought of it as a deal-breaker.

“I think Mr. Roth has his eye on you and the young chef,” Seamus said, busying himself by making a cup of tea.

“Thank you, Seamus, but there’s nothing to keep an eye on,” I told him. “Do they like the drinks?”

“Yes, yes, everyone’s oohing and aahing about the color and the flavor. Back to the point, though, Mr. Roth doesn’t like to know that those of us in his service have earthly wants and needs, like for food and water, and romance…or air, come to think of it,” he said, chuckling at his own joke.

“Don’t worry. I have a boyfriend in London. I don’t need romance.”

Back then, I was just getting a foothold as a chef in this world and didn’t want to jeopardize it, so Seamus’s words niggled at me. Plus, there was Ben. Even in the early days, I found myself defending Ben to Edward. Like that time we were making a multi-course Indian meal.

Washing lentils at the sink, I told him how we made sense as a couple – how Ben was working to make partner, how he and I were intellectually compatible, how his law degree and my undergraduate degree in psychology made us both analytical, how we had similar views on financial independence. “We split all expenses now, and I suspect we’ll have separate accounts when we marry,” I said smugly, feeling like one of the smart-woman financial advisors from The Eva! Show.

“You go Dutch at dinner. So he’s a cheapskate?” Edward asked. He measured out jasmine rice into a pot.

“No! We’re simply both autonomous,” I told him.

“That sounds hot,” he'd replied, getting under my skin again.

“Do all relationships have to be hot?” I demanded. At the very mention of the word hot, I became aware of Edward’s shoulders under his close-fitting t-shirt. The family was out for the afternoon, so he’d taken off his chef’s coat and hung it on a chair. That’s Edward in a nutshell – a maddening combination of rule follower and risk taker.

“Hell yes, relationships have to be hot. That’s part of it, anyway. A big part, if you ask me,” he said, turning from his pot and shooting me a look. Anyway, you can’t see much of him. How can you, when you’re always here with me?” He smiled.

“Well, I’m trying to earn a good reputation in the business, in case you hadn’t noticed. That’s why I’m here, of course.” Not to be near you, I said in my head.

“Or maybe you’re just holding out for someone of higher rank?” He tossed this out casually, rhythmically chopping onions while he spoke. “Crossing the invisible line has its appeal. I mean, that’s what I hear,” said Edward.

I thought about Jasper Roth and flushed deeply, not waiting for an answer to my question. “Look, if you’re implying that I have some kind of crush…”

“I’m just asking if…” his knife stopped. “Nothing.”

“What were you going to say?”

He didn’t answer. He lifted a pot lid, and began measuring out different colored powders into the curry he’d been making. I watched, pretending to be interested in the dish, but really wanting to hear Edward say more about Jasper. I reached around him to take the ghee off the stove, grabbing the hot handle of the iron pot without a potholder.

“Damn!” I cried, letting go immediately.

“Slow down, Jubes. There’s no rush.” He took my hand in his, and eased my clenched fist open. He kissed my injured palm, very lightly. “Let me wrap that hand up with some aloe gel,” he said.

The tenderness set off a longing in me that I didn’t want him to see. “That curry’s going to be too spicy,” I said, pulling my hand away, pretending it didn’t hurt. “The tastes in this house are particular, you know. That combo will be too much for them, they’re not The Rolling Stones.”

“There’s a saying in India, ‘Spice wakes the sleeping.’” He looked directly at me, his emerald green eyes with the gold flecks holding me in his steady gaze. Then he took my hand again, pulling against my resistance. “Open up for me,” he said. “You must be in pain. Let me look after you.”

My hand did hurt, and I did need looking after. I imagined leaning forward and kissing his full lips. He always smelled like cinnamon to me, and I could almost taste it in my mouth. After a moment I said, “I’m here to do things by the book,” and I turned away.

“That’s a shame,” he’d told me, letting me go. He waited a long time to speak, not saying anything until I checked in, looking at his face. “You know, Jubes,” he said, “I don’t chase after women. They usually come to me.” I opened my mouth to call him arrogant and he put up a hand to stop me. “I’m not building myself up, it’s just that most women I can take or leave, so I don’t make the effort. If they show up, I say yes.” A quick, hot jealousy flared up in my sternum and I involuntarily imagined him in bed with a faceless woman. Stop that, I told myself. He’s not yours.

“I’m not a monk, you know,” he said. “If you’d respond to what I think have been my considerable efforts,” he said softly, “I would gladly turn a blind eye to the various offers around me.”

I wondered what offers he meant…he rarely left the grounds. “Who…?” I began to ask, then thought better of it. Stop the drama, I told myself. If I was going to be with Ben, I was going to be with Ben. I’d invested so much, the ship had sailed. It was the sensible thing to do. And you love Ben, I reminded myself.

“Sorry…” I whispered and I genuinely meant it. “If it weren’t for Ben…”

“I get it. You can’t blame a man for trying,” he said, twisting his mouth into a wistful smile. He stirred his curry.

“Edward,” I began.

“Let’s just change the subject,” he said, cutting me off. “You should always try for what you want, and if that falls through, readjust. Learned that in the military. Let’s stick with the cooking.”

Edward and I continued to work together, but became very careful with each other after that. Gentle, even. It worked for a while. But then came the stint when I was engaged to help at yet another of the Hall’s weddings …

We’d had a wonderful morning together. It was a clear June day, and we’d sneaked off together to get fresh eggs. I’d seen very little in my lifetime that was as picturesque as the grounds of Thornton Hall when the weather cooperated. The grass was electric green and, the sheep beyond the fence looked so white and fluffy, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d been shampooed and blow-dried.

“Race you to the barn,” Edward had shouted, tearing off into a sprint.

“Totally no fair!” I screamed back, chasing him. “You had a head start!” I burst into a run, but I caught my shoe on the jutting root of an oak tree and went down, face first. I felt the wind knocked out of me, and by the time I caught a deep breath, Edward had doubled back and was helping me to my feet. My cheekbone was throbbing where it has smacked down on a flat rock.

“Maybe we should take you to Dr. Dearden.” He looked concerned.

“No, this is nothing. But I bruise like a peach, and know in advance, I’m blaming it on you,” I said, laughing it off. We ambled the rest of the way to the barn, and wound up talking, of all things, about how much we both wanted to see the Aurora Borealis someday.

Later that day, we were goofing around making a practice cake for the wedding, which we’d feed to the delighted staff. At one point, Edward shoved a slice of the trial wedding cake into my face while we were mock-fighting. It smarted where I’d hit my face in the fall. Involuntarily I cried out, “Hey!” Rose had come in at that moment and said, “Oh, look at the bride and groom, quarreling already.”

“Mark my words, it won’t last a week!” I’d joked, joining in. “My mother warned me about his type. Told me to marry a lawyer.”

After that, Edward became very cold with me, and wouldn’t look me in the eye. That day and the next passed with such tension that I thought our days of being able to work together were through. He ignored all my little jokes and refused the sandwich I put in front of him, even though he always said that sandwiches taste better when someone else makes them for you. I brooded about it, then eventually threw myself on the grenade.

“Edward,” I’d said, the first moment I could get him alone. “I’d like to offer you the option of hiring another assistant. I’ll give notice, and make my excuses.”

“Unnecessary, Juliet. I was in the RAF Regiment. I’ve endured far worse than idle flirting from a woman who doesn’t know her own mind.”

“Listen…” I interrupted.

“There’s nothing more to say. The fault is entirely mine. Now, if you’d be so kind as to wash and mince the parsley, we can get on with it.”