Page 14 of A Winter By the Sea
Bernardi shook his head. “Woolbrook is fully furnished with its own. That particular chest contains items of a more ceremonial nature: silver candlesticks and awards for valor during the duke’s military career. That sort of thing.”
Sarah glanced back toward the locked door. “He takes his responsibility seriously, then.”
Bernardi shrugged. “I suppose so. An insufferable bore, though.”
Sarah was curious but decided not to encourage more gossip about one of their guests. “Unless there is anything elseyou need, I shall see you at breakfast in the morning. Oh, and as tomorrow is Christmas Day, we shall be attending church if you would like to join us.”
“No, thank you,” he answered bluntly.
“Oh. Well. As you like.”
Sarah walked away, feeling ill at ease as she considered their new lodgers. Why did they always seem to receive more than their fair share of male guests? She wondered if the men were married or single, then put the question from her mind, telling herself it did not matter in the least.
The next morning, Mamma, Sarah, and her sisters attended church together. Mr. Hornbeam joined them. Viola and the major were there, along with his brother, his father, and Mrs. Denby from the poor house, who sat under a plush lap rug in her own wheeled chair, purchased for her by generous Major Hutton.
The family greeted friends and neighbors and answered questions about their new guests. Clearly word had spread about the royal visitors to Sidmouth.
After the service, they returned to Sea View to help Mrs. Besley finish preparing their simple Christmas dinner.
Once she had put away her pelisse, bonnet, and gloves, Sarah went downstairs in her plain long-sleeved day dress. She descended the back stairs, pausing to take her apron from its peg and put it on.
She glanced into the main kitchen and saw Lowen basting two chickens and Mrs. Besley busy at the stove. Sarah turned instead toward the smaller workroom she used as a pastry room and stillroom. Stepping inside, she stopped abruptly, her mouth falling ajar.
Antoine Bernardi stood at the table, working away, as though this were his personal domain.
“What are you doing, Mr. Bernardi?” she asked, her voice sharper than she’d intended.
He spread his hands. “Preparing dishes for the duke’s table, as you see.”
The pastry chef gestured toward the sugar-paste boughs of holly with bright red berries and the round “kissing balls” coated in green icing and decorated with small marzipan apples and oranges.
“Why here?” she asked. “Why not Woolbrook’s kitchen?”
“Too hot and busy in there today. They’re roasting every manner of meat for the holiday: turkey, beef, goose—probably a boar’s head, for all I know. I needed somewhere quieter and cooler to make these special confections. It is Christmas, after all.”
Indeed it was. The reminder stopped Sarah’s sour tongue.
He turned to the sideboard, where several large tarts with lattice tops cooled. “I have also baked quince tarts. What is Christmas without something made of quinces? I prepared an extra one for you.”
He lifted the tart and held it toward her for inspection. Despite her pique, Sarah could not help bending to sniff. It smelled heavenly—of tangy sweet fruit and warm, buttery pastry.
“Mmm. Th-thank you. Most considerate.”
He held her gaze. “Happy Christmas, Miss Summers.”
Sarah managed a wan smile in return. “Happy Christmas, Mr. Bernardi.”
She decided to leave any further remonstrances about his use of their kitchens until the holiday had passed.
After helping Mrs. Besley for a time, Sarah went upstairs to the dining room. Mr. During came in as she was setting the table.
“Miss Summers, I must go to Woolbrook Cottage to set a festive table for the duke and duchess and their guests.” He lifted the handle of the large leather case he’d arrived with, the plate chest and his smaller, personal valise apparently still in his room.
“I have locked my door and have the key.” He patted his pocket. “But I don’t feel confident leaving the house with any uncertainty about the second key. I don’t suppose there is a safe in which you might secure it for my peace of mind?”
Sarah placed the final fork and straightened. “We have a lock box, which we use for payments and petty cash, that sort of thing. Will that suffice?”
“May I see it?”
