Page 34 of The Austen Escape
Sonia emerged from a side pantry dressed in a simple long black dress with a white apron laid over the front. “Good morning. Everyone’s left breakfast already, but I can make you eggs or—”
“Please, no. I’m not hungry.” I pointed to her dress. “It’s begun then? I need to put on a dress?”
Sonia smiled. “It only feels awkward at first. You’d have felt better if you’d made breakfast. Helene is wearing a bright-yellow dress and is already in full character. She tried to tease poor ‘Margaret Dashwood’ about Duncan, who was serving sausages. Clara was too young to understand, but poor Duncan turned bright red and dropped a sausage. He was so embarrassed he refuses to serve table again. Helene also insisted we arrange a ball for tomorrow night.”
“Wasn’t there going to be dancing anyway?”
Sonia poured me a cup of coffee and slid it across the counter. “Yes, but part of the fun is letting a Mrs. Jennings direct the household.”
“Okay then... To Mrs. Jennings.” I raised my cup and took a sip. “I’ll go find a dress. Save this for me?” I set down my coffee. A waver in the air above the stove caught my eye. “Did you know that’s on?”
“An Aga is always on.”
“What do you mean?” I stepped toward it. I could feel the heat hit me a full two feet from its bright-red doors. I crouched down and touched one of them.
Sonia laughed and crouched next to me. “It’s made of enameled cast iron. Each chamber is calibrated to a different heat, so you move your dishes between them, adjusting how you cook rather than adjusting the oven to your cooking. There are no dials, no on and off switches. Gertrude sent me to a class a couple years ago, but Penelope is the cook. I just help out when needed. Water and boiled eggs, that sort of thing.”
I tapped a finger to each bright-red door. I could feel differences in temperature. “How do you know they stay true?”
“Every now and then Gertrude puts in a thermometer to check them, but it’s never needed. You’d have to ask her how it works. But I do know that because it never turns off, she has the heat set low in this end of the house. The Aga warms the kitchen and you can even feel the drier heat in the Gold and Blue Rooms above.”
“It would be drier. Radiant heat keeps wood 11 percent drier than forced air, and in drywall, the percentage is higher. I can’t quite remember...” I caught her look. “In my work, ambient moisture and temperature are important.” I stood and leaned against the counter, adoring the stove and lamenting its impracticability in Texas. “Is it too hot in here in the summer?”
“It can get toasty.”
“So what are the BTUs for the burners? Is it all—” I stopped at the small smile playing on her lips and felt my face flame.You’re not the resident electrician.“I should go dress.” I looked around the kitchen again. “I don’t want to embarrass Isabel. Am I not supposed to be in here?”
“Don’t think that at all. Gertrude was serious when she said there are no rules. And I figure even in Austen’s day, an Emma had to come see the cook or Lizzy the housemaid. In one of those movies, they even got Elinor Dashwood outside Norland Park beating the rugs with the maid. You can dig around in any pantry you want and take all the lightbulbs you wish.”
My jaw dropped. Sonia grinned again. The back door slammed shut and startled us both.
Gertrude crossed half the kitchen before she noticed us. “Good. You are awake.”
Sonia and I stiffened. Gertrude stopped short. “That was abrupt. I simply meant... We have a problem.”
“We do?”
“Breakfast with Miss Dwyer was... unusual.” She glanced to Sonia, who gave a tiny commiserating nod. “I have just left her at the stables, and I think you should come with me. She appeared to not know anyone this morning, and her mannerisms, her speech... She concerns me.”
“She’s been styling herself as an Austen escapee for years. It’s her thing, and finishing her dissertation is important. She calls this the ‘ultimate escapist experience for the modern literate woman.’ She’s role-playing and she’s really good at it. Trust me.”
Gertrude’s expression didn’t change.
“Was it awkward? Do you want me to talk to her?” I pointed back toward the hallway. “I should change first.”
“Could you do that after?”
I glanced to Sonia. She, too, held a tight, anxious expression.
“This is more than role-playing. Please?” Gertrude gestured to the back door.
She was dressed in dark blue, an apron tied at her waist and asmall mobcap attached to her silver hair. Oddly, she looked like she fit the kitchen, the house, everything. I was the one out of place.
She led me across the gravel drive toward the path marked by a small black sign with gold lettering.Stables, Spa, and Stream. I shifted my gaze from her back to the sky. The day was glorious. Rain through the night had cleared all the gray and clouds away. The sky was bright blue—not a washed-out, bleached, Texas-sky blue, but the color I used to mark cool currents on my drafting charts, the one just lighter than Sharpie’s royal blue. And the air was crisp. It felt like drinking a cold glass of milk after a long run. You could feel it moving through you, cooling and calming you from the inside.
“Is it always this gorgeous?”
Gertrude’s shoes crunched at a faster cadence beside me. She was taking two steps to my one. I got the impression I was holding her back, so I picked up my pace.
