Page 5 of One Last Night

"Well!" Victoria says, clapping her hands. "I, for one, am starving, and I know Beatrice has prepared a lovely meal for us. Shall we?"

“We shall,” Julian announces.

He seems to share his mother’s ebullience. It must only have been my imagination that there is conflict between them.

We head to the kitchen, following Victoria’s lead. The children stay close to their father, and I give them space. I’ve learned the hard way that pushing children to accept me is likely to have the opposite effect.

The dining room is just as grand and impressive as the great room and sports an equally gorgeous chandelier. This kind of opulence is more common in the plantation houses of the South than in the country homes of New England, but I happen to appreciate such Old World elegance. The table is also black maple, and the chairs are beautifully carved and high-backed, and light during the day is provided by an expansive window that faces the vineyards outside.

“So Mary,” Julian begins. “My mother tells me you come highly recommended.”

I smile graciously. “I’ve been fortunate to enjoy positions with many wonderful families.”And a few less than wonderful families. “I’m happy to know that I was able to provide as much joy as I received.”

“Well, I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here just as much. The children are excited to have a new tutor.”

Nathan and Luann look far from excited, but I smile and thank them anyway. “Luann,” I ask, “what is your favorite subject in school?”

She blinks, evidently surprised by my question. “Um… History’s okay, I guess.”

“Ilovehistory,” I reply. “It’s so fascinating to think about all the events that took place to lead us right to this very moment.”

She shrugs. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Very effusive, these children,” Julian teases. “Nathan, tell Miss Mary whatyourfavorite subject is.”

Nathan’s lips thin. He doesn’t seem to appreciate his father’s prodding. I’m about to tell him that it’s all right if he wants to tell me another time, but he says, “Science.”

“Oh, how interesting,” I reply. “I’m afraid I was a poor scientist. I could never keep all the different math straight.”

“It’s not that difficult,” he says. “If you think of each science as requiring a different set of distinct formulas, you can then categorize the formulas according to their primary characteristics. You can actually determine a lot about the nature of a science by determining the formulas that govern it and comparing them to other sciences. For example…” He catches himself and blushes prettily. “Well, anyway, I guess I just never found it difficult because I like it so much.”

I might have decided too prematurely who the outgoing one of the two is. “You sound like a very bright young man,” I tell him. “I hope I can keep up with you.”

The meal is brought out, and my eyes widen in amazement. The cook, Beatrice, has the body of a mountain and the face of an ogre. Not that she’s ugly. She’s actually quite pretty. But her expression reminds me of someone who eats children rather than feeds them.

Whatever her faults might be, she can cook. The centerpiece of each plate is a steaming lobster tail served with a light butter sauce. With that, she includes corn on the cob and macaroni and cheese—real macaroni and cheese with a rich, creamy sauce made of real cheeses rather than the horrible gunk that comes in boxes in supermarkets.

“There’s coleslaw if you’d prefer, Mary,” Victoria tells me. “The children like mac and cheese, but I understand if you want something different.”

“This is perfect, Victoria, thank you,” I reply. “It’s very generous of you to include me in your dinner.”

“Of course,” Julian says. “We’d be bad hosts if we made you eat by yourself.”

This courtesy doesn’t seem to extend to the other household servants, but it’s not my place to comment, so I only thank him again.

The meal proceeds with more small talk. I share some of my experiences at other positions—though I leave out the various scandals I end up in the middle of—and the Bellamy’s tell me a little about their business. The children are quiet unless prodded, but they are polite enough and no longer seem wary of me.

All is well until Victoria mentions the vineyard. “I showed Mary the vineyard this morning, Julian.”

A wall instantly comes up on Julian’s face. He keeps his tone mild when he says, “Oh?” but I can tell he’s not pleased. Why would it bother him that his mother showed me the vineyard?

“Yes. She thought the Chardonnay was particularly exquisite, didn’t you, Mary?”

“The entire vineyard was lovely,” I reply. “Thank you for showing me.”

“It’s too bad about the fire the other day. It would have been fun to show her the press.”

Julian’s lips thinned. The children—always the most sensitive members of the family—look simultaneously embarrassed and downcast. It’s clear that I’m not meant to be involved in this portion of the conversation.

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