The Women of Nell Gwynne's by Kage Baker Page A

great deal more to be done on the Dessert. There was sugar paste to press into pastillage forms to make all manner of decorations, including a miniature Roman temple, doves, a chariot, and bows and arrows. There were indeed Cupids of rose-flavored jelly to be turned out of their molds, resulting in rather horrible-looking little things like pinkly transparent babies. They wobbled, heads drooping disconcertingly as real infants, once mounted at the four corners of the cake. There were pots and pots of muscadine-flavored cream to be poured into the sorbetiere and churned, with grinding effort, before scraping it into the capacious hollow of an immense swan mold. When it was filled at last it took both Maude and Dora to lift it into the ice locker.
    "And that goes on top of the cake?" Lady Beatrice asked.
    "It's supposed to," said Mrs. Duncan plaintively, avoiding her gaze.
    "And we're to carry that in and dance too, are we?" said Jane, pointing with her thumb at the main mass of the Dessert, which was now creaking on its supports with the weight of all the temples, Cupids, doves and other decorations, to say nothing of the roses and ferns trimming its bearer-poles.
    "Well, that was what his lordship said," Mrs. Duncan replied. "And I'm sure you're all healthy young girls, ain't you? And it ain't like he ain't paying you handsome."
     

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    NINE:
    In which the Object of Particular Interest appears
    A NY FURTHER CONCERNS were stilled, a half-hour into the dinner service, when Pilkins and Ralph entered the kitchen, bearing between them an object swathed in sacking. Ralph stopped short, gaping at the ladies in their chitons, and Pilkins swore as the object they carried fell to the kitchen flagstones with a clatter. Lady Beatrice glimpsed the corner of a long flat box like a silverware case, before Pilkins hurriedly covered it over again with the sacking.
    "You great oaf! Mind what you're about," said Pilkins. "And you, you—girls, clear out of here. You too, Cook. Go wait in the pantry until I call."
    "Well, I like that! This ain't your kitchen, you know," cried Mrs. Duncan.
    "Lordship's orders," said Pilkins. "And you can go with them, Ralph."
    "Happy to oblige," said Ralph, sidling up to Maude.
    "If you please," said Mrs. Corvey, "My rheumatism is painful, now that night's drawn on, and I find it troublesome to move. Mightn't I just bide here by the fire?"
    Pilkins glanced at her. "I don't suppose you'll matter. Very well, stay there; but into the pantry with the rest of you, and be quick about it."
    The ladies obeyed, with good grace, and Mrs. Duncan with markedly less enthusiasm. Ralph stepped after them and pulled the door shut.
    "Heigh-ho! 'Here I stand like the Turk, with his doxies around,'" he chortled. "Saving your presence, Cook," he added, but she slapped him anyway.
    Mrs. Corvey, meanwhile, watched with interest as Pilkins unwrapped the box—rather heavier, apparently, than its appearance indicated—and grunted with effort as he slid it across the floor to the creaking trestle that supported the Dessert. Mrs. Corvey saw what appeared to be a row of dials and levers along its nearer edge.
    Pilkins pushed it underneath the trestle and fumbled with it a moment. Mrs. Corvey heard a faint humming sound, then saw the box rise abruptly through the air, as though it fell upward . It struck the underside of the tray with a crash and remained there, apparently, while Pilkins crouched on the flagstones and massaged his wrists, muttering to himself.
    Then, almost imperceptively at first but with increasing violence, the Dessert began to tremble. The jellied Cupids shook their heads, as though in disbelief. As Mrs. Corvey watched in astonishment, the Dessert on its carrier lifted free of the trestles and rose jerkily through the air. It was within a hand's breadth of the ceiling when Pilkins, having exclaimed an oath and scrambled to his feet, reached up frantically and made s6me sort of adjustment with the dials and