The Most Marvellous Summer. Бетти Нилс

I never could carve—the bones will make splendid soup and there’s still plenty of meat…’

      His tone was measured. ‘That is not what I meant, and you know it. Why are you working in the kitchen when you should be in the drawing-room? That abominable woman…’ He stopped, mindful of good manners. ‘Do you mean to say that she asked you to cook dinner?’

      ‘No. I said that I would—to help Mrs Chubb; you know she was in such a state. They tell me that you did a splendid job on her fingers. Are you a consultant or something?’

      ‘Yes. Let us keep to the point, Matilda.’

      She looked meek, but her eyes sparkled because he had called her Matilda and not Miss ffinch. A tiny step forwards perhaps?

      She picked up the knife again and started on the other side of the duck and he stepped forwards, took the knife from her, carved the rest of the bird with a practised hand and laid the knife down on the table.

      ‘Is there no one to help you?’

      ‘They’re having their supper. I’ll stay down here until you’ve all gone home.’ She selected a slice of duck and popped it into her mouth.

      It was Roseanne who spoke. ‘Look,’ she sounded worried, ‘we must go back—they’ll wonder where we are.’

      ‘Very well. Have you had your dinner, Matilda?’

      He looked as cross as two sticks, she thought lovingly. ‘I shall take a tray up to my room. Goodnight, Mr Scott-Thurlow, or is it goodbye?’

      CHAPTER THREE

      MATILDA, PACKING THE remainder of her things ready to leave in the morning, reflected sadly that it really had been goodbye and not goodnight. From upstairs at the landing window she had watched the dinner guests go home and it seemed to her that Mr Scott-Thurlow was quite devoted in his attention towards his fiancée as they left the house. Rhoda had really looked quite stunning.

      She was glad to be going home; Mrs Venables had thanked her for her services rather coldly, remarking at the same time that she had no idea how she was going to manage with the temporary cook whom she had engaged. Matilda, who had been to see Mrs Chubb again, had observed rather tartly that she would appreciate Mrs Chubb’s services all the more when she returned, ‘Because, of course, she will be coming back here, will she not? After all these years?’

      A remark which received no answer save a non-committal murmur which could have meant anything or nothing.

      Gregg fetched them soon after breakfast and the two girls bade their hostess goodbye. She embraced Roseanne warmly and begged her to visit her again very soon, but when she shook Matilda’s hand she observed rather distantly that she supposed that the daughter of a rector had much to occupy her and that they were unlikely to meet again.