Page 40 of The Marchioness Who Tempted Fate
This is almost as bad as living with Mrs. Bentley, and being constantly scolded for things I did not do, or reminded to do things that I had already done. Will my every happiness always be only temporary? What will I do if I am turned off?
Chapter 26
Meanwhile…
Percival glowered at his uncle. “I have every respect for you, Uncle Ronald, but I am no longer a child nor am I so grief stricken that I require your constant guidance.”
“From my viewpoint, Nephew, you have every need of my guidance. I scarcely recognize this household.”
“Oh? Perhaps you miss the burned bread, the limp salads, and the inedible vegetables? Michaels, at least, has been constant in his skills. I am told, however, that it was not easy for him to manage to produce good food when Jones was the day cook.”
“Jones was a qualified chef with excellent references,” Lord Ronald returned. “I do hope you gave him a set when he left?”
“I gave him the minimum endorsement,” Percival retorted. “He did not deserve that much. I certainly could not give him better.”
“Why was that, Percival?”
“Good God, Uncle! He rarely cooked. He usually sent out to one or another of the inns for the foods that he supposedly prepared. He took no care of the supplies that were laid in. Fortunate, indeed, we are that it is not ancient times and we did not have occasion to withstand a siege. We should have all starved to death.”
“Starved? I scarcely believe that.”
“Starved. Or worse, succumbed to St. Anthony’s Fire, as I am told is a consequence of eating bad rye. Would that not have been a pretty picture?”
“I am not sure it would have been worse than what I have arrived to. I find my favorite nephew, who is the very apple of my eye, eating food prepared by a criminal. I’ve a good mind to petition to have you declared incompetent.”
“Do not take that tack with me, Uncle Ronald. For should that be your course of action, I would have no choice than to expose the slovenly way the kitchen was kept and the lack of decent food coming out of it. And that, My Lord Uncle, was while we had a cook hired upon your recommendation.”
Lord Ronald sat back in his chair. “Oh, Nephew. Let us not pull caps with one another. Truly, I have only your well-being in mind.”
“Then, Uncle, please enjoy the fine meals we are having, and leave the running of my household to my excellent staff. I am not a child in leading strings, nor am I a callow youth. Let us speak of something else.”
“Very well, tell me of this orphanage.”
“Gladly. In fact, if you will come to the library, we can look at the most recent version of the model. The artist who worked on it comes in each week to make the changes that reflect the results of the committee meetings.”
“It is quite charming,” Lord Ronald remarked, upon viewing the model. “But, as I have remarked before, I wonder if all of this is necessary for indigent street urchins? Nephew, they are likely to reduce it to a slum within the first week of residency. As for all the gilt and glitter—that will be sold on the streets to the highest bidder.”
“It is my hope to raise them to a better standard, Uncle.”
“Oh, Nephew. How much of your own blunt are you putting into this?”
“Scarcely any. This is a shared project. Much of the labor, and even a good portion of the materials, are being donated.”
“I see. So you are not alone in this folly?”
“Not alone in this project, Uncle Ronald,” Percival put a slight emphasis on the word project. “Have you any idea how many children are roaming about in back alleys, just waiting for someone to throw away food?”
“I do not,” Lord Ronald said firmly. “But I suspect that you are going to enlighten me.”
“Actually, I am not. For I have no real idea. But I will tell you that there are far more than I ever suspected.”
“When they starve to death there will be that many fewer useless mouths to feed,” Lord Ronald averred.
“Uncle!” Percival gazed at him in shock.
“Only a jest, Nephew. Only a jest. I do understand what you and your little club are hoping to do. It speaks well of your kindness and tender heart. I only wonder if it will do any good.”
“I hope to do good,” Percival said. “No one can predict with perfect accuracy the outcome of their actions.”
