Page 98 of The Sisters of Sea View
“Well, we are all becomingquitethe bosom friends, so I don’t think anyone will mind being cozy.”
“We would need a fair amount of time to prepare. And, as you know, we serve dinner to our guests five nights a week, but Saturday and Sunday evenings are a possibility.”
“So many limitations!” Mrs. Elton sighed. “I told Mr. E we should let a lodging house of our own, but he argued that an entire house for just two people did not make sense. I assured him we would make many friends to entertain, yet would he listen? We are popular wherever we go.”
“I am sure. What are your thoughts on the menu?”
“Oh, whatever you think best—or perhaps ask your mother, who probably entertained often. She was a gentlewoman, I understand.”
Sarah stiffened. “Yes, she is.” Had Mrs. Elton intended it as an insult, or was she simply verbalizing a fact none of them wished to face? Did running a guest house put them in “trade”? Werethey gentlewomen no longer? Either way, Sarah told herself to overlook the slight.
Instead, she thought back to all the lovely dinners they had hosted at Finderlay. Flowers on the table, pristine white cloth, every piece of silver polished, every dish and goblet positioned just so. And the food! Mrs. Besley did wonders with the few loaves and fishes they gave her here, but the lavish meals at home, prepared by a host of kitchen staff...
“Would you prefer several dishes set on the table at once, so your guests might help themselves as they like? That is how we often served meals at home, at least among family and friends.” She could still see her mother presiding over an impressive array of serving dishes overflowing with roast game, veal olives, duck ragout, pigeon pie, sweet breads, fricassee of chicken, salads, calves’ feet jelly, and more, served à la française. People helping themselves, or gentlemen serving the ladies, servants there to refill glasses. Everyone talking with their tablemates to the right and to the left, jovial conversation mingling. Laughter, ease, pleasure, warmth...
“Something more formal, I think,” Mrs. Elton said, breaking the nostalgic spell. “With several courses.”
“Several. I see. And have you any specific dishes in mind?”
“What would you suggest?”
“Well, fresh seafood is plentiful here. Crab, lobster, prawns...”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like shellfish. Mild fish is unobjectionable, I suppose—as long as it does not taste like fish.”
“Ah. Well. Salmon is mild. Sole? Turbot?”
“Whatever you think.”
“Soup?”
“Yes, we must have soup.”
“Pease soup?”
“Too ordinary.”
“Julienne? I would have to ask our cook what she can manage with what’s in season.”
Mrs. Elton raised exasperated hands. “More limitations.”
Sarah chose to ignore that. “Any preference for meat? Chicken, lamb, beef...?”
“Which would you advise?”
“Fricassee chicken is delicious. Spare ribs are tender but expensive. Pork cutlets would be a good moderate choice.”
Mrs. Elton waggled a finger. “No. No pork. I intend to invite Emanuel Lousada.” She stepped closer and said sotto voce, “Jewish, you know. Does not eat pork.”
Sarah reared her head back. “Mr. Lousada is coming to your dinner party?”
The highly respected man had played a major role in developing Sidmouth into the resort town it was, building several properties, including a fine residence for his family.
“Why does that astound you? He is a gracious man and known to be quite hospitable. He shall no doubt reciprocate with an invitation to Peak House.”
“Goodness.”
Mrs. Elton raised her long face till she was looking down her nose at Sarah. “You do not keep company with Mr. Lousada?”
