hoping to witness the kind of events that might have taken place a hundred years ago, but more often than not she was disappointed.
A small supper party had been planned for one of the evenings when Isobel would be there, and Tom and Daphne had been invited. Then, feeling that Tom might not be completely at ease with four women, even though he was a clergyman and one of the women was his sister, Emma invited Adam Prince to join the party. His inclusion meant that the choosing of the menu caused her more anxiety than usual, though she did not know whether he was as critical of food eaten in private houses as of that offered to him in the course of his ‘work’. As the party was to be on a Friday, there was the possibility that fish might have to be provided. Were the clergy, or Roman Catholic laymen, still obliged to eat fish on a Friday? Emma wondered.
‘Fish is now regarded as a luxury,’ Beatrix said. ‘I’m sure Tom would be the last person to expect fish on a Friday.’
‘But Adam Prince – a Catholic convert, an Anglican turned Roman,’ said Emma uneasily, ’ and an inspector of high-class eating places – he might well look on fish as no more than his due.’
‘What is the rule for Roman Catholics these days?’ Isobel asked. ‘One wouldn’t want to be shown up as ignorant, not knowing….’
‘Not au fait with what the form is in Rome,’ Emma prompted, ‘though we could hardly be expected to know the secrets of the Vatican kitchens.’
‘Still, it might be a graceful compliment to Adam to provide a fish dish of some kind,’ said Beatrix.
But what kind of fish? The usual pie made of coley would hardly do, though it could no doubt be disguised in a suitable sauce, mushroom or shrimp. In the end Emma made a tuna fish mousse, and a French onion tart with a salad, to be followed by various cheeses and ice cream from the village shop. After all, it was only supper, and lobsters – which Adam might have expected at some of the places he visited – were not easily obtainable in a West Oxfordshire village.
Entering Emma’s sitting-room with his sister, Tom found himself confronted by the three women, not one of whom — in his eyes – looked immediately attractive, though he was of course aware that he must look below the surface. He did not take in as much detail as a woman would have done, but the general effect was unpleasing.
Emma was in a drab black and grey cotton which reminded him of a servant’s morning dress of the old days – the sort of thing she would do the fires In or the front doorstep. Beatrix wore a dress of dark brownish-patterned silky material, its small collar pinned with a heavy Victorian brooch set with an ugly pebble-like stone. Isobel was in a beige crepe two-piece, in rather boringly good taste – she must have chosen it for speech day or some other school function – she wore a necklace of seed pearls and small earrings to match, also new shoes that looked as if they might be uncomfortable. As for Daphne, Tom had long ceased to regard his sister as a woman whose clothes might be worthy of notice, sometimes he hardly even thought of her as a human being. In fact she was wearing a pink-flowered cotton dress, rather too short by present standards, but she was saving her better clothes for her Greek holiday.
The offering of sherry was achieved before Adam Prince arrived, with apologies for being late, if he was late. His way of putting it made Tom feel that he and Daphne had been a little too early, but he was used to Adam’s ways, and he was not surprised that when they sat down to eat it should be Adam who complimented Emma, rather too fulsomely it seemed for such a detail, on the exquisite thinness of the sliced cucumber with which she had decorated the tuna mousse.
‘It is an art all too seldom met with,’ Adam declared, ‘the correct slicing of cucumber. In Victorian times there was – I believe – an implement or device for the purpose.’
‘I just used
A small supper party had been planned for one of the evenings when Isobel would be there, and Tom and Daphne had been invited. Then, feeling that Tom might not be completely at ease with four women, even though he was a clergyman and one of the women was his sister, Emma invited Adam Prince to join the party. His inclusion meant that the choosing of the menu caused her more anxiety than usual, though she did not know whether he was as critical of food eaten in private houses as of that offered to him in the course of his ‘work’. As the party was to be on a Friday, there was the possibility that fish might have to be provided. Were the clergy, or Roman Catholic laymen, still obliged to eat fish on a Friday? Emma wondered.
‘Fish is now regarded as a luxury,’ Beatrix said. ‘I’m sure Tom would be the last person to expect fish on a Friday.’
‘But Adam Prince – a Catholic convert, an Anglican turned Roman,’ said Emma uneasily, ’ and an inspector of high-class eating places – he might well look on fish as no more than his due.’
‘What is the rule for Roman Catholics these days?’ Isobel asked. ‘One wouldn’t want to be shown up as ignorant, not knowing….’
‘Not au fait with what the form is in Rome,’ Emma prompted, ‘though we could hardly be expected to know the secrets of the Vatican kitchens.’
‘Still, it might be a graceful compliment to Adam to provide a fish dish of some kind,’ said Beatrix.
But what kind of fish? The usual pie made of coley would hardly do, though it could no doubt be disguised in a suitable sauce, mushroom or shrimp. In the end Emma made a tuna fish mousse, and a French onion tart with a salad, to be followed by various cheeses and ice cream from the village shop. After all, it was only supper, and lobsters – which Adam might have expected at some of the places he visited – were not easily obtainable in a West Oxfordshire village.
Entering Emma’s sitting-room with his sister, Tom found himself confronted by the three women, not one of whom — in his eyes – looked immediately attractive, though he was of course aware that he must look below the surface. He did not take in as much detail as a woman would have done, but the general effect was unpleasing.
Emma was in a drab black and grey cotton which reminded him of a servant’s morning dress of the old days – the sort of thing she would do the fires In or the front doorstep. Beatrix wore a dress of dark brownish-patterned silky material, its small collar pinned with a heavy Victorian brooch set with an ugly pebble-like stone. Isobel was in a beige crepe two-piece, in rather boringly good taste – she must have chosen it for speech day or some other school function – she wore a necklace of seed pearls and small earrings to match, also new shoes that looked as if they might be uncomfortable. As for Daphne, Tom had long ceased to regard his sister as a woman whose clothes might be worthy of notice, sometimes he hardly even thought of her as a human being. In fact she was wearing a pink-flowered cotton dress, rather too short by present standards, but she was saving her better clothes for her Greek holiday.
The offering of sherry was achieved before Adam Prince arrived, with apologies for being late, if he was late. His way of putting it made Tom feel that he and Daphne had been a little too early, but he was used to Adam’s ways, and he was not surprised that when they sat down to eat it should be Adam who complimented Emma, rather too fulsomely it seemed for such a detail, on the exquisite thinness of the sliced cucumber with which she had decorated the tuna mousse.
‘It is an art all too seldom met with,’ Adam declared, ‘the correct slicing of cucumber. In Victorian times there was – I believe – an implement or device for the purpose.’
‘I just used
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