“I know it’s not as simple as telling Cook to put on a roast, Melisande.”
“You don’t know, and I have made it my business to spare you the effort of knowing, Horace. In all the years of our marriage, my pin money has never been increased.” To bring this up was very nearly to pick a fight, but when Horace was larking about a gaming hell with one of the biggest gossips in London, some plain speaking was long overdue.
Horace rose, perhaps because a gentleman did when a lady was on her feet, perhaps because he sensed Melisande was circling around to his exposed flank, and he needed to take evasive maneuvers.
“Your pin money was spelled out in the settlements, Melisande, and what this has to do with the great awkwardness of entertaining Orion Goddard under my own roof, I do not know.”
Melisande went to the window, rather than allow Horace to appropriate the vantage point. “The settlements, sir, spell out that the quarterly sum will be adjusted annually to allow for increased prices as may be encountered from time to time. Prices have done nothing but increase, even more so since the peace, and you tell me our investments are not performing to standards. And yet, you want these impressive dinners four times a year, parade dress, cannon at the ready.”
“Four dinners a year doesn’t seem like much, Melisande.”
Melisande could not exactly rail against Horace’s high-handedness when his ignorance of household matters had afforded her much latitude in the domestic domain.
“You insist on maintaining a coach and four when we seldom go any distance,” Melisande said. “We keep this grand house, for three people, Horace, one of whom is a child. You employ a valet when I am more than capable of looking after you, and… If you think these dinners are a mere incidental expense, I can tell you they easily cost as much as an entire quarter’s budget to feed the whole household.”
Horace braced a hand on the mantel and stared into the fire. “An entire quarter’s budget… for one meal?”
A formal dinner generally contemplated thirty guests. Had Horace thought thirty could dine in style with full regalia as cheaply as one couple, a little girl, and some staff dined on mundane fare?
Apparently, he had. “I will show you my budgets and show you how the expense for one dinner was halved when Ann took a hand in the planning. She knows how to produce impressive results without bankrupting me. She has a sense for wine pairings that impress without emptying the cellar of our best vintages. She plans fewer courses and somehow makes the whole affair more lavish. I don’t know how she does it, but your dinners are the envy of our friends because of Ann.”
To say that hurt, but then, Ann was involved only because Melisande saw the potential benefit of soliciting her help. Besides, Ann liked to cook, liked to fuss with saucepots and spices and so forth. Giving Ann a chance to do what she enjoyed was hardly taking advantage of her.
Far from it.
“An entire quarter’s budget…” Horace rubbed his forehead. “I had no idea.”
“I should not have troubled you with a matter as trivial as household finances,” Melisande said, “but you mentioned the investments. I need Ann to help me maintain standards, Horace, and inviting Goddard was her one condition for assisting me. If we can endure his company for one evening, I will be in a position to pry Ann loose from the Coventry.”
Horace was looking tired and a little bewildered. “How d’you figure that?”
“She went straight from boarding school to kitchen work and has never had an opportunity to live the life of a lady. I will show her what she’s missed, introduce her to some of the more gallant bachelors, and prevent her from ever going back to her chopping and peeling. If word gets out that she’s a glorified scullery maid, we might eventually recover from the gossip, but Ann will never make the sort of match she deserves.”
Horace straightened. “She’s a bit more than a scullery maid, if she’s been planning the officers’ dinners.”
“I plan those dinners, and I consult Ann on the menu.” Also the centerpieces, flowers, music, and presentation of the courses. Truth be told, Ann had even had a few helpful comments on the seating arrangements, her connections at the Coventry having given her a sense of who socialized regularly with whom.
Horace resumed his place at the desk, something about how he lowered himself into the chair suggesting fatigue.
“I thought Ann would give up her harebrained adventures in the kitchen,” he muttered, “but she has persisted. The offerings at the Coventry are nothing short of magnificent, particularly lately. It had not occurred to me that Ann had a hand in all that. You are convinced she’ll set aside cooking given half a chance?”
Melisande was not sure, but she was hopeful. “Ann comes from gentry, Horace, as I come from gentry. We weren’t raised to tolerate the loose morality or wanton excesses of either the lower reaches of society or its most exalted members. We uphold standards, and Ann has allowed youthful rebellion to blossom into a course she cannot quit without appearing to suffer a defeat. She has deviated exceedingly from propriety’s dictates. I’ll fix that for her, and she will one day thank me.”
One day, after Melisande had gathered up all the lovely recipes and all the clever centerpieces, perhaps.
“Then I suppose you must do as you see fit regarding Goddard,” Horace said. “I have it on some authority that he’s thinking of a remove to France anyway. I was his commanding officer. If I tolerate his presence at my table now, I suppose that will put paid to any notions that I haven’t been supportive of him.”
“Precisely,” Melisande said, tying the window sash back, though a chill came off the panes. “I will put Lieutenant Haines to his left and Mrs. Spievack to his right. Between Haines’s chatter and Mrs. Spievack’s bad hearing, Goddard will be the first to leave.”
“One can hope.” Horace pulled a stack of letters to the center of the blotter. “What have you planned for the rest of the day, my dear?”
Next on Melisande’s schedule was a cup of tea liberally laced with brandy. She was trying to cut back on her tippling, a slow process.
“I thought I’d take Daniella to the park. Today is sunny, if brisk, and she does enjoy the fresh air.”
Horace looked like he had some pontification to offer regarding this mundane outing, but he took spectacles from a drawer and perched them on his nose.
“Children need activity,” he said, with the sort of prim condescension that conveyed a world of censure.
Because, of course, if Melisande were to meet Philippe Deschamps anywhere, it would be in the park, where such an encounter could be passed off as a chance mishap.
Truly, Horace tormented himself for nothing. “Would you like to come with us?” Melisande asked. “You and I so seldom spend time together, Horace, and you are my husband.”
His smile was inordinately pleased. “Thank you, my dear, but no. The press of business calls me. Perhaps once we have this dinner behind us, we might confer regarding our respective budgets and plan some changes to the household routine.”
Horace waving a white flag was a fetching—if slightly disconcerting—prospect. “I’d like that.” Melisande would endure that long overdue exercise, in any event, because something had to be done if income was dropping and expenses rising. That Ann had wages to show for her efforts was not lost on Melisande, but what a price to pay for a bit of coin.