‘Bacon and eggs, with mushrooms, fried bread and tomato. Then, toast and marmalade, tea or coffee, sir.’
‘Where did you learn to cook?’ he asked idly.
‘My mother taught me and I took a cookery course in Salisbury. I worked at the hotel in Wilton for several years.’
He nodded. ‘I shall have guests sometimes. You could cope with that?’
She said seriously, ‘Oh, yes.’ She put a frying pan on the Aga. ‘Would you like more tea, sir?’
He shook his head. ‘Why not have a cup yourself?’ He wandered to the door. ‘Pauline will be glad to see you—she’ll be here this afternoon.’
She set the table in the dining-room, and was making the toast when Miss Frobisher came into the kitchen. She eyed the laden tray with approval and her greeting held more warmth than usual. ‘Sir William always likes a good breakfast; he’s a big man and needs his strength for his work.’ She shot a look at Florina. ‘He’s a doctor, did you know that? A very well known one. He was a dear little boy, I always knew he’d be successful. You’d better take that tray in, I can hear him coming downstairs.’
Florina laid the food on the table before him, casting a motherly glance at him hidden behind the morning paper. She had liked him on sight, she remembered, and that liking was growing by the minute. She would very much like to know all about him, of course, though she had the good sense to know that she never would.
CHAPTER TWO
THERE was plenty to keep Florina busy that morning. After breakfast, shared with Mrs Frobisher, there was the menu to put together, the cake and scones to make and everything to prepare for the evening. That done, there was coffee to make for Mrs Frobisher, Mrs Deakin and Mrs Datchett, who came to sit around the kitchen table for a short break from their polishing and dusting. The latter two ladies were inclined to gossip, but received short shrift from the housekeeper, who didn’t answer their questions about the new owner and silenced them with an intimidating eye.
‘But he is going to marry?’ persisted Mrs Deakin, not easily put off.
‘It seems very likely,’ conceded Mrs Frobisher, and Florina thought that there was a trace of disquiet in the housekeeper’s voice.
Florina left an excellent light lunch ready for the housekeeper, and took herself off home to get a meal for her father and herself. The breakfast dishes were still on the table and he was sitting in a chair, reading the paper.
He greeted her with a disgruntled, ‘So there you are, and high time too!’ Then he picked up his paper again, leaving her to clear the table, wash up and get a snack meal.
They ate in silence and Florina made short work of tidying everything away. Cleaning the house, dusting and carpet-sweeping took her another half an hour; there was an hour of leisure before she needed to return to Wheel House. She spent it in the big garden behind the cottage, weeding and tying back the clumps of old-fashioned flowers her mother had planted years ago, and which Florina tended still. She made tea for her father before she went, drank a cup herself, tidied her already neat person and returned to Wheel House. She had left everything ready for tea, and as she went round the back of the house to the kitchen wing she could hear the little girl’s excited voice from the drawing-room, the door of which was open as she passed. Her hand was on the kitchen door when she was stopped.
The girl rushed at her from the room. ‘I’m Pauline—oh, isn’t this fun? Have you seen my room? It’s pink and white! We’ve eaten almost all the scones and half the cake. Daddy says you must be a treasure in the kitchen.’
‘Hello,’ said Florina, and beamed at the pretty little face grinning at her. ‘I’m so glad you enjoyed the cake. I’m going to get dinner ready now.’
‘I’ll help you.’
Pauline danced into the kitchen, examining the pots and saucepans, opening the cupboards and peering inside, peeping into the fridge. Florina, changing out of her dress into the striped cotton frock and large white apron which was her uniform while she was working, called from the little cloakroom leading from the kitchen, ‘Put everything back where you found it, won’t you, Pauline?’
She reappeared to collect the ingredients for the watercress soup, boeuf en croûte, and the chocolate sauce to go with the profiteroles.
Florina worked steadily, undeterred by Pauline’s stream of excited chatter. She was chopping mint and Pauline was sitting on the table, running a finger round the remnants of the chocolate sauce in the pan, when Sir William wandered in.
‘Something smells delightful. Is it a secret?’
‘Watercress soup, boeuf en croûte, potatoes with mint, courgettes, new carrots, spinach purée, profiteroles with chocolate sauce, cheese and biscuits and coffee,’ recited Florina, finishing the last of the sauce.
‘It sounds good. Are you cordon bleu trained, Florina?’
‘Yes, but I think I learnt almost everything from my mother—the cordon bleu just—just put the polish on.’
She had washed her hands, and was piling profiteroles into a pyramid on a china dish. It crossed her mind that she felt completely at ease with Sir William, as though she had known him for years… She really must remember to call him Sir William. ‘Dinner will be at half-past seven unless you would like to change that, Sir William?’
He said carelessly, ‘Oh, no, why should I change it? I’ll take Pauline off your hands—we’ll go for a stroll.’
Without Pauline’s pleasant chatter and her father’s large presence, the kitchen seemed empty and quiet. Florina went to and fro, putting the finishing touches to the food. She was a little warm by now, but still very neat. Mrs Frobisher, coming into the kitchen, nodded approvingly.
‘You certainly know your work,’ she allowed. ‘Sir William is a very punctual man, so have the soup ready on the dot. I’ll carry in the food.’
The meal over and the last of the dishes back in the kitchen, Florina put the coffee tray ready to be carried in, and started on the clearing up.
The china, glass and silver Mrs Deakin would see to in the morning, but she did her saucepans and cooking utensils. It had been a strict rule at the hotel and one she intended to continue. She had just finished burnishing the last pan when Mrs Frobisher came back with the coffee tray. ‘Sir William is very satisfied with your cooking,’ she told Florina, ‘I’m to pass on his compliments. He wants to know if you can cook for a dinner party next weekend. Eight sitting down to table, and Miss Fortesque, his fiancée, will be staying for the weekend.’
‘No problem. If there is anything special Sir William wants, I’ll do my best.’
‘I’ll ask him. You’re finished? Did you put everything to keep warm in the Aga? Good. I’ll lay the table and you dish up. It’s been a busy evening, but you’ve done very well. I’ve suggested to Sir William that we get a girl from the village to come in in the evenings and help you clear up and see to the vegetables and so on. Do you know of one?’
Florina thought. ‘Yes, there is Jean Smith at Keeper’s Cottage—she’s left school, but she’s got to wait a month or two before she can start work training as a nurse. She will be glad of the money.’
‘I’ll leave you to ask her to come along and see me. Now, let’s have dinner. I’ve seen Pauline safely up to bed, and Sir William has got all he wants. Your father knows you won’t be home until later?’
‘Oh, yes. I left his supper ready for him.’
‘You’re kept busy,’ observed Mrs Frobisher. ‘Mind you, during the week it will be midday dinner and a light supper at seven o’clock. You’ll have most of the evening free. It is a pity that you can’t live in.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind working late or coming early