scullions would be turning chickens and great joints on the spit, and Mrs. Johnson and the kitchen-maids would be at the stove. Brass sauce-pans, polished like mirrors, had hung from the walls while the freshly cured hams had hung from a cross-beam.
Now it seemed smaller to him and very empty, and there was only one old woman with bowed shoulders standing near a small fire.
For a moment he found it impossible to recognise the stout, apple-cheeked Cook who had made him gingerbread men as a small boy and later, when he was going back to School, huge fruit-cakes which had been the delight of his dormitory.
As he entered the kitchen she turned round, and he saw by the expression in her eyes that she recognised him.
“Master Ivar! Be it really you? You’ve grown into a fine man, there’s no mistake about that.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Johnson,” the Duke replied. “It is nice to see you again.”
He held out his hand and felt how cold her fingers were and realised how old and frail she was.
“Walton has been telling me,” he said quietly, “that things have been very difficult for you, but that is all over now. You shall have help the moment we can find anyone from the village to come to the Castle.”
He heard Mrs. Johnson make an inarticulate little sound and went on:
“I am looking forward to having one of those delicious dishes you used to cook for me when I was going back to Oxford.”
“That be a long time ago, Master Ivar ... I mean, Your Grace.”
“A long time,” the Duke agreed.
“Things have been bad, very bad these last years.” She gave a deep sigh before she said:
“We’d all have died, every one of us, if it hadn’t been for Her Ladyship.”
“That is what Walton has been telling me.”
“It’s true, Your Grace. We’d have been turned away after all these years without a penny, and there’d have been nothing for us but the Workhouse!”
“Forget it now!” the Duke said. “Everything is going to be exactly as it was when I was a boy and there was no war to make us miserable.”
“That’s the right word—miserable!” Mrs. Johnson agreed. “With that monster in France killing all our young men, His Grace was never the same after His Lordship fell.”
The Duke, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at having taken his cousin Richard’s place, replied:
“Now we must only look forward, Mrs. Johnson, and I want you to tell the groom I have brought down with me where he can go in the village to find food and help.”
He smiled at her as he continued:
“Tomorrow we can make further plans, but for the moment the best thing to do is just to cope with tonight, and actually I shall undoubtedly be very hungry.”
He knew that unless Mrs. Johnson had changed very much, this appeal would not go unanswered, and she said in a different voice:
“You’ll have the best dinner I can cook for you, Master Ivar, but there’s no pretending that I can do it without vittles.”
“That I understand,” the Duke said. “Leave everything to me.”
He walked away, passing the huge larder with its marble slabs on which there used to stand big open bowls of cream.
He remembered too the pats of golden butter from the Jersey herd and cheese which was made fresh every other day.
Then there were sculleries, a very large Servants’ Hall, the Housekeeper’s room, the boot-room, the knife-room, and various other offices, before he reached the yard.
He did not stop to look round but walked on as he knew this was the quickest way to the stables.
As he expected, he found that his groom was the only person there and had just finished putting the horses into four different stalls.
He saw at a glance that the roof needed repairing and the stable itself was badly in need of paint.
The stalls were comparatively clean, and as he saw the other two horses in them he had an idea that the only person who could have cleaned them was his cousin Alvina.
He told his groom exactly what he had to do, and was
Now it seemed smaller to him and very empty, and there was only one old woman with bowed shoulders standing near a small fire.
For a moment he found it impossible to recognise the stout, apple-cheeked Cook who had made him gingerbread men as a small boy and later, when he was going back to School, huge fruit-cakes which had been the delight of his dormitory.
As he entered the kitchen she turned round, and he saw by the expression in her eyes that she recognised him.
“Master Ivar! Be it really you? You’ve grown into a fine man, there’s no mistake about that.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Johnson,” the Duke replied. “It is nice to see you again.”
He held out his hand and felt how cold her fingers were and realised how old and frail she was.
“Walton has been telling me,” he said quietly, “that things have been very difficult for you, but that is all over now. You shall have help the moment we can find anyone from the village to come to the Castle.”
He heard Mrs. Johnson make an inarticulate little sound and went on:
“I am looking forward to having one of those delicious dishes you used to cook for me when I was going back to Oxford.”
“That be a long time ago, Master Ivar ... I mean, Your Grace.”
“A long time,” the Duke agreed.
“Things have been bad, very bad these last years.” She gave a deep sigh before she said:
“We’d all have died, every one of us, if it hadn’t been for Her Ladyship.”
“That is what Walton has been telling me.”
“It’s true, Your Grace. We’d have been turned away after all these years without a penny, and there’d have been nothing for us but the Workhouse!”
“Forget it now!” the Duke said. “Everything is going to be exactly as it was when I was a boy and there was no war to make us miserable.”
“That’s the right word—miserable!” Mrs. Johnson agreed. “With that monster in France killing all our young men, His Grace was never the same after His Lordship fell.”
The Duke, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at having taken his cousin Richard’s place, replied:
“Now we must only look forward, Mrs. Johnson, and I want you to tell the groom I have brought down with me where he can go in the village to find food and help.”
He smiled at her as he continued:
“Tomorrow we can make further plans, but for the moment the best thing to do is just to cope with tonight, and actually I shall undoubtedly be very hungry.”
He knew that unless Mrs. Johnson had changed very much, this appeal would not go unanswered, and she said in a different voice:
“You’ll have the best dinner I can cook for you, Master Ivar, but there’s no pretending that I can do it without vittles.”
“That I understand,” the Duke said. “Leave everything to me.”
He walked away, passing the huge larder with its marble slabs on which there used to stand big open bowls of cream.
He remembered too the pats of golden butter from the Jersey herd and cheese which was made fresh every other day.
Then there were sculleries, a very large Servants’ Hall, the Housekeeper’s room, the boot-room, the knife-room, and various other offices, before he reached the yard.
He did not stop to look round but walked on as he knew this was the quickest way to the stables.
As he expected, he found that his groom was the only person there and had just finished putting the horses into four different stalls.
He saw at a glance that the roof needed repairing and the stable itself was badly in need of paint.
The stalls were comparatively clean, and as he saw the other two horses in them he had an idea that the only person who could have cleaned them was his cousin Alvina.
He told his groom exactly what he had to do, and was
Similar Books
