Page 136 of A Winter By the Sea
“Oh. Sorry. Am I intruding?”
“Not at all,” Sarah hurried to assure her, relieved at the interruption. “You are just in time to help me eat this feast. Mr. Bernardi was introducing me to some of the flavors of his childhood.”
Georgie hesitated, glancing uncertainly at the chef.
He smiled with obvious effort and retrieved an extra plate as Georgie dragged in another chair. His displeasure soon fled, however, as Georgiana praised each dish even more effusively than Sarah had.
When it was time for the dessert course, he removed their plates and replaced their forks.
He set before them a layered sponge cake with cream filling and cherries. “Genoise à la maraschino, a favorite with the Prince Regent. We would say ‘Genoese’ in Italian. And Milanese flan, which is not as sweet as you might expect.”
Sarah said, “Remember, you said you would join me for dessert.”
He nodded, poured three small cups of strong coffee, and pulled up a stool.
“Taste the flan first.”
They did so. As he had said, it was not sweet, but ratherrich and buttery. Almost cheesy. It reminded her of a moist, dense Yorkshire pudding, although she kept that to herself and said only, “Delicious.”
Then she took a bite of the sweet, buttery cake, which melted in her mouth in a cherry-flavored puddle of heaven.
“This is amazing,” Georgiana declared. “No wonder the Prince Regent likes this. I do too.”
When the meal was complete, Sarah and Georgiana insisted on helping with the washing up.
“Thank you for letting me join you,” Georgie said.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Bernardi,” Sarah echoed. “I will probably never visit France or Italy, but now I almost feel as though I have.”
His gaze lingered on her face, and his lips parted as though to speak, but with a glance at her sister, he remained silent and made do with a bow.
24
The duke was bled and cupped day after day.
—Christopher Hibbert,Queen Victoria,A Personal History
On Monday, the Summers sisters gathered at the east office window as an official-looking traveling chaise accompanied by outriders came up Glen Lane. Then they hurried across the hall to the parlour to look out the north window in time to see the new arrivals disappear up Woolbrook’s drive.
“Who is it, do you think?” Georgie asked.
Emily replied, “Mr. Thomson told me the duchess sent a messenger requesting a royal physician to attend the duke.”
Mr. Hornbeam, sitting on a sofa nearby, asked, “Did he mention a name?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Perhaps Sir David Dundas?”
“Yes, that was it! How did you guess?”
Mr. Hornbeam replied, “He is reputed to be a capable, experienced physician, one of the medical men treating King George. I believe Dundas has known Prince Edward since childhood.”
“Good. Surely he’ll know what to do,” Emily said, and prayed for the duke as she’d vowed to do earlier.
Sometime later Mr. Thomson returned from Woolbrook and joined them in the parlour, once again looking as though he carried a heavy burden on his broad shoulders.
“What did the royal physician say?” Emily asked.
