Page 120 of A Winter By the Sea
“Do you want to?”
“I once wanted nothing more. Now I... well . . .” Her sentence hung there, unfinished.
“If you decide to marry him, that is your choice,” he said, dark eyes glittering. “With my life as it is, there is nothing I can say or do to stop you, but I don’t want to be here to see it.”
“Are you leaving?” Emily’s voice hitched.
His mouth tightened. “I cannot, as it happens. There is one spare room there but not for long. They’ve sent a messenger to London asking for an experienced royal physician to come immediately. The duchess hopes Sir David Dundas will arrive by Monday. So for the present, you are stuck with me.”
She exhaled in relief. “And I am very glad to hear it.”
22
TAKE two chickens and dress them very neatly.
—Mrs. Glasse,The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy
When her turn came to provide another meal for the poor house, Sarah decided she could do a little better than cold meat this time, with or without Mr. Bernardi’s help.
She resolved to try a warm entree but something simple like chicken and rice. When she’d flipped through a cookery book the day before, she had also considered a recipe called Scotch chickens, in no small part because the final line read,The Scotch gentlemen are very fond of it.Then she had reminded herself that she’d already had her chance with a handsome Scottish gentleman and had not taken it.
She pushed that thought aside and regarded the two chickens lying dead on the worktable. She had purchased them at the market early that morning for a good price. Perhaps she should have paid a few extra pence to have them plucked and cleaned. She had thought Lowen might do that for her,or Jessie, but Lowen was in bed with his rheumatism again, and Jessie was run off her feet helping Mrs. Besley as well as cleaning the house.
Sarah picked up a knife and studied the chickens, wondering where to start. She became aware of someone watching her and looked up. Mr. Bernardi stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She had not asked for his help again but was not terribly surprised to see him, since he often took the liberty of using their kitchen or this workroom.
Mr. Bernardi stared at the fowl, brows high. “Do they not come plucked and drawn?”
“These were less expensive,” she said. “Lowen usually cleans them, but he is feeling poorly today.”
“Let me guess. You have never cleaned a fowl yourself?”
She shook her head. “I don’t imagine you are required to do so either.”
“Not now. But as a lad, oh, how many I cleaned for Mamma.” He straightened and stepped inside. “Come. I shall have pity on you.”
He held out his hand and she passed him the knife.
Sarah said, “I thought you were not interested in helping prepare food for the poor house.”
He lifted one shoulder. “I have changed my mind. Besides, the duke is still unwell, and the duchess will not leave his bedside. I must cook for someone.”
In sure, rapid motions, he sliced an incision, drew out the entrails, and cut off the head. He plucked the feathers, singed the pin feathers over the fire, trimmed the feet and wings, rinsed the inner cavity, and dried the whole.
“Now, are we trussing these for boiling, or roasting them on a spit?”
Sarah hesitated. “What would you suggest?”
“Do these people have teeth?”
“What a question! Yes ... I think so. At least I have not noticed the lack.”
“How were you planning to prepare these?”
“I thought a simple dish of chicken and rice. With vegetables and bread rolls?” She looked at him warily, anticipating a scoff.
Instead he nodded. “Good idea. Simple but quite flavorful, if done well. I presume you have rice?”
She went to fetch some. They worked side by side, him directing, her assisting and gathering ingredients. They boiled rice in white broth, which he had prepared previously and kept on hand. He poured a few cups of the broth into a saucepan, added a scraped carrot, onion, cloves, mace, a bay leaf, and a bouquet of parsley, green onions, and thyme, tied together neatly.
