prosperous merchant was that her
meals were served farmhouse style, with everything on the table at once, and people
helping themselves.
The aroma was enough to make a dead man rise and walk to the table to join them, at
least as far as Jack was concerned.
Katie gazed on it all with wonder. The meal began with a bit of clear soup, then on
came the rest: ham with a succulent honey glaze that glistened in the dim light that
came in through the dining room windows, the green peas with butter melting over the
top of them, the fluffy mashed potatoes heaped in a bowl like a great mound of steaming
snow, the cabbage, apples, and onions baked together into a succulent mass, the brandied
carrots shining like gold, the big dish of pickles lying cool in their juice, the
fine loaf of fresh-baked bread, the dish of sweet butter, and jewel-like dishes of
apple and current jelly. The poor girl hardly knew where to look next as her gaze
wandered over the laden table.
“Tea, please,” she said in a soft voice. Then she smiled tentatively and a little
shyly at them all. “I feel sorry for Suzie. She can’t be having nearly as good a dinner
as this one.”
Savory aromas swam about them . . . and Jack chuckled. “Her beau’s half-owner in his
parent’s oyster-house, and it’s a big, prosperous one. She’ll be tucking into lobster
about now, I should think, so don’t feel sorry for her. It’ll be just as good a dinner.
Seafood, not ham, but just as good.”
Lionel gestured with his knife and fork that he was ready, and served the ham as Mrs.
Buckthorn passed him plates. Jack filled the rest of Katie’s plate for her; he had
the feeling she would just have put a little potato and a few peas on it otherwise.
Mrs. Buckthorn and the maid sat right down with the rest of them—an anomaly in any
other household, where the servants would eat separately, but this was no ordinary
household. For one thing, Lionel wouldn’t hear of his housekeeper eating in the kitchen
when all he had was the housekeeper and her little niece, who served as maid-of-all-work,
and for another, Mrs. Buckthorn was a very, very minor Elemental Magician herself.
Just enough to be aware of the magic and the Elementals, but that was more than enough
for Lionel to consider her as an equal who happened to take his wages. As for Mrs.
Buckthorn herself, she was farm-bred and saw no difficulty, for servants always ate
with the family on the farms. Servants were considered part of a farmhouse family,
at least on good farms.
Katie, of course, would never have been around anyone who had servants, so she wouldn’t
know how unusual this was.
Lionel was very careful which of his assistants he had invited to dark-day dinners;
some of them would have been shocked, for oddly, it was often those who were poorest
who had the most rigid ideas about what was, and was not, “proper.” It was odd, but
it was often so.
Unless, of course, they were born and raised entertainers, who had no set ideas of
any sort of household etiquette, for they rarely had servants, and almost never had
houses. Rooms in a theatrical boarding house, or flats rented by retired theater people,
that was what they had. Servant and master etiquette was as loose among entertainers
as it was among farm folk.
In deference to Mrs. Buckthorn’s finer feelings, they bowed their heads while the
housekeeper uttered a brief blessing. Then they all gave proper, thoughtful respect
to the food, and Jack got a great deal of pleasure from the happiness on Katie’s face
as she ate. He rather thought that Lionel did too.
There was a very nice breeze cutting right through the house, and as wild as the back
garden was, it held an untamed old-fashioned rosebush that had taken over one entire
corner. It added its scent to the savory aromas of the food.
They kept the conversation to extreme commonplaces—and compliments to Mrs.
meals were served farmhouse style, with everything on the table at once, and people
helping themselves.
The aroma was enough to make a dead man rise and walk to the table to join them, at
least as far as Jack was concerned.
Katie gazed on it all with wonder. The meal began with a bit of clear soup, then on
came the rest: ham with a succulent honey glaze that glistened in the dim light that
came in through the dining room windows, the green peas with butter melting over the
top of them, the fluffy mashed potatoes heaped in a bowl like a great mound of steaming
snow, the cabbage, apples, and onions baked together into a succulent mass, the brandied
carrots shining like gold, the big dish of pickles lying cool in their juice, the
fine loaf of fresh-baked bread, the dish of sweet butter, and jewel-like dishes of
apple and current jelly. The poor girl hardly knew where to look next as her gaze
wandered over the laden table.
“Tea, please,” she said in a soft voice. Then she smiled tentatively and a little
shyly at them all. “I feel sorry for Suzie. She can’t be having nearly as good a dinner
as this one.”
Savory aromas swam about them . . . and Jack chuckled. “Her beau’s half-owner in his
parent’s oyster-house, and it’s a big, prosperous one. She’ll be tucking into lobster
about now, I should think, so don’t feel sorry for her. It’ll be just as good a dinner.
Seafood, not ham, but just as good.”
Lionel gestured with his knife and fork that he was ready, and served the ham as Mrs.
Buckthorn passed him plates. Jack filled the rest of Katie’s plate for her; he had
the feeling she would just have put a little potato and a few peas on it otherwise.
Mrs. Buckthorn and the maid sat right down with the rest of them—an anomaly in any
other household, where the servants would eat separately, but this was no ordinary
household. For one thing, Lionel wouldn’t hear of his housekeeper eating in the kitchen
when all he had was the housekeeper and her little niece, who served as maid-of-all-work,
and for another, Mrs. Buckthorn was a very, very minor Elemental Magician herself.
Just enough to be aware of the magic and the Elementals, but that was more than enough
for Lionel to consider her as an equal who happened to take his wages. As for Mrs.
Buckthorn herself, she was farm-bred and saw no difficulty, for servants always ate
with the family on the farms. Servants were considered part of a farmhouse family,
at least on good farms.
Katie, of course, would never have been around anyone who had servants, so she wouldn’t
know how unusual this was.
Lionel was very careful which of his assistants he had invited to dark-day dinners;
some of them would have been shocked, for oddly, it was often those who were poorest
who had the most rigid ideas about what was, and was not, “proper.” It was odd, but
it was often so.
Unless, of course, they were born and raised entertainers, who had no set ideas of
any sort of household etiquette, for they rarely had servants, and almost never had
houses. Rooms in a theatrical boarding house, or flats rented by retired theater people,
that was what they had. Servant and master etiquette was as loose among entertainers
as it was among farm folk.
In deference to Mrs. Buckthorn’s finer feelings, they bowed their heads while the
housekeeper uttered a brief blessing. Then they all gave proper, thoughtful respect
to the food, and Jack got a great deal of pleasure from the happiness on Katie’s face
as she ate. He rather thought that Lionel did too.
There was a very nice breeze cutting right through the house, and as wild as the back
garden was, it held an untamed old-fashioned rosebush that had taken over one entire
corner. It added its scent to the savory aromas of the food.
They kept the conversation to extreme commonplaces—and compliments to Mrs.
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