Edie.’
***
The shoot dinner was large and involved a great deal of lifting and fetching and carrying and pouring. Jenny and the others seemed to have suspended hostilities, all of them sympathetic to her having to work on her evening off.
‘Rotten luck,’ whispered Jenny. ‘Where did you go? We saw Ted come back.’
‘Just walked into town and went to the film by myself,’ lied Edie, uncomfortable at the necessary deception.
Jenny seemed to accept this, which suggested that Ted had not mentioned being sent ignominiously back to the house by Charles. She wondered if he had returned only to be told that Charles was lying about him being needed. That would land her in hot water, she thought. Ted was no fool.
It was a challenge to work in the same room as Charles, but she avoided his eye and kept to the far end of the table, serving jolly and rather drink-reddened old gentlemen their beef Wellington and their port. If he looked at her, she tried not to notice.
‘Where did you go, Charles?’ she heard Lady Deverell’s ringing tones enquire. She felt herself weaken all over immediately, her heart fluttering at the potential danger. ‘You were very much missed.’
‘I told you, I wasn’t sure I was up to it,’ he said. ‘You know how I am around gunshots these days. I’m sorry to bring it up, but it was you who raised the subject.’
There was a general murmur, sympathetic in tone, and somebody changed the conversation to talk of a forthcoming hunt ball.
It was a relief to Edie when she was allowed to leave the room and return to the kitchen. Being so close to Charles was a special kind of torture and she was headachey with the tension of it as she sat down at the long trestle and helped herself from trays full of leftovers.
She had barely bitten into a smoked salmon pinwheel when Ted sat down beside her, making her stuff the food into her mouth more quickly than she had intended.
‘Nice afternoon?’ he asked, a little sourly.
‘Nicer if you’d been there,’ she said, after swallowing the food rather uncomfortably.
‘Really?’
‘I wish you hadn’t had to come back.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘You didn’t? You didn’t come back?’
‘No. I didn’t
have
to come back. His Lordship didn’t need me.’
Edie looked at him with what she hoped mimicked incomprehension.
‘So why were you sent back?’
‘I thought you might know the answer to that.’
She shook her head.
He popped a miniature choux bun in his mouth. It seemed to lift his mood.
‘Ah, well, all’s not lost,’ he said. ‘It’s a nice evening, after all that rain. Come out for a walk with me in the gardens.’
‘Are we … is it permitted?’
She thought of the footman, who had chased the cat through the rhododendrons. Presumably it was not forbidden then. All the same, she very much wanted to avoid being alone with Ted in a situation that might be observable from the main house. If she broke Charles Deverell’s conditions, what then?
‘Of course, you noodle,’ he said cheerfully. ‘If we stick to the parts nearest the kitchen. Come on, eat up.’
‘I’m ravenous,’ she said.
‘What did you do for lunch?’
‘Had to buy myself a pork pie. Ate it next to the river.’
Half-true.
‘The river, eh?’
‘Yes. It’s lovely there, isn’t it?’
‘Hmm.’
They both ate, stolidly and silently, for a few more minutes before Edie felt her appetite was sated.
On the way out to the garden door, Edie told Mrs Fingall that she was sorry to hear about the lost steak.
Fingall looked utterly confounded.
‘D’you what, dear? Lost steak?’
‘Yes – the cat, you know.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know about any steak, but you’ve lost me.’
‘Oh. No matter.’
Outside on the gravel that paved the herb garden, Ted was curious.
‘What was all that about?’
‘I saw Giles earlier, coming out of a shrubbery, looking quite dishevelled. He told me he’d been chasing a cat that stole a steak. I
***
The shoot dinner was large and involved a great deal of lifting and fetching and carrying and pouring. Jenny and the others seemed to have suspended hostilities, all of them sympathetic to her having to work on her evening off.
‘Rotten luck,’ whispered Jenny. ‘Where did you go? We saw Ted come back.’
‘Just walked into town and went to the film by myself,’ lied Edie, uncomfortable at the necessary deception.
Jenny seemed to accept this, which suggested that Ted had not mentioned being sent ignominiously back to the house by Charles. She wondered if he had returned only to be told that Charles was lying about him being needed. That would land her in hot water, she thought. Ted was no fool.
It was a challenge to work in the same room as Charles, but she avoided his eye and kept to the far end of the table, serving jolly and rather drink-reddened old gentlemen their beef Wellington and their port. If he looked at her, she tried not to notice.
‘Where did you go, Charles?’ she heard Lady Deverell’s ringing tones enquire. She felt herself weaken all over immediately, her heart fluttering at the potential danger. ‘You were very much missed.’
‘I told you, I wasn’t sure I was up to it,’ he said. ‘You know how I am around gunshots these days. I’m sorry to bring it up, but it was you who raised the subject.’
There was a general murmur, sympathetic in tone, and somebody changed the conversation to talk of a forthcoming hunt ball.
It was a relief to Edie when she was allowed to leave the room and return to the kitchen. Being so close to Charles was a special kind of torture and she was headachey with the tension of it as she sat down at the long trestle and helped herself from trays full of leftovers.
She had barely bitten into a smoked salmon pinwheel when Ted sat down beside her, making her stuff the food into her mouth more quickly than she had intended.
‘Nice afternoon?’ he asked, a little sourly.
‘Nicer if you’d been there,’ she said, after swallowing the food rather uncomfortably.
‘Really?’
‘I wish you hadn’t had to come back.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘You didn’t? You didn’t come back?’
‘No. I didn’t
have
to come back. His Lordship didn’t need me.’
Edie looked at him with what she hoped mimicked incomprehension.
‘So why were you sent back?’
‘I thought you might know the answer to that.’
She shook her head.
He popped a miniature choux bun in his mouth. It seemed to lift his mood.
‘Ah, well, all’s not lost,’ he said. ‘It’s a nice evening, after all that rain. Come out for a walk with me in the gardens.’
‘Are we … is it permitted?’
She thought of the footman, who had chased the cat through the rhododendrons. Presumably it was not forbidden then. All the same, she very much wanted to avoid being alone with Ted in a situation that might be observable from the main house. If she broke Charles Deverell’s conditions, what then?
‘Of course, you noodle,’ he said cheerfully. ‘If we stick to the parts nearest the kitchen. Come on, eat up.’
‘I’m ravenous,’ she said.
‘What did you do for lunch?’
‘Had to buy myself a pork pie. Ate it next to the river.’
Half-true.
‘The river, eh?’
‘Yes. It’s lovely there, isn’t it?’
‘Hmm.’
They both ate, stolidly and silently, for a few more minutes before Edie felt her appetite was sated.
On the way out to the garden door, Edie told Mrs Fingall that she was sorry to hear about the lost steak.
Fingall looked utterly confounded.
‘D’you what, dear? Lost steak?’
‘Yes – the cat, you know.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know about any steak, but you’ve lost me.’
‘Oh. No matter.’
Outside on the gravel that paved the herb garden, Ted was curious.
‘What was all that about?’
‘I saw Giles earlier, coming out of a shrubbery, looking quite dishevelled. He told me he’d been chasing a cat that stole a steak. I
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