Page 36 of A Winter By the Sea
He lifted one shoulder. “Serving royalty is not as pleasant as one might think. Consider, when the duke went to Germany, I went to Germany—far from my family, and living in a place where I did not speak the language. Thankfully my French is passable after training in Paris. The duchess speaks German and French, but little English. Understanding one’s orders is not always easy in such an environment.
“Then we moved to Kensington Palace, where I was assigned the most menial tasks, assisting the senior kitchen staff like a lowly minion. I began to think I would lose my place until the duke decided to move to the West Country for the winter. Yet even here I am under Leigleitner.”
“So it’s not all sugar work and accolades?” she asked.
“Sadly, no.” He sighed. “In my younger days, I longed for recognition. To prepare delicacies for the most noble palates and make my mark among the great chefs. Yet now, when I think of my parents living happily above their own shop, which they manage as they see fit...” He looked thoughtfully toward the boarding house once more.
Sarah said, “I imagine owning a business severely limits one’s free time. Shop hours would keep one tethered in place.”
He nodded. “That was true, in the early days. But they have reached a modest level of success and have been able to engage a shop clerk, so they can enjoy a bit of leisure from time to time.”
“I am glad for them.”
His face took on a distant look. “Nothing smells as good as my family’s home. Basil and fennel and marjoram...”
“Don’t forget garlic,” she teased.
“I don’t forget! In fact, allow me to prepare for you one of Mamma’s favorite dishes, hm?”
She grinned. “Garlic stew?”
His eyes glimmered with challenge. “You shall have to wait and see.”
When Sarah returned from town, she sewed with Mamma and a reluctant Georgiana for a time while Emily wrote at the table nearby. Since it was the first of the year, the duke had given most of his staff the day off, so the men joined them in the parlour, looking rather bored.
Sarah served tea, then suggested they might walk to the billiard room or join the card games at the assembly rooms. With discouraged glances at the sleet-speckled windows, the three decided to remain indoors.
Mr. Bernardi sat down with a cookery book, Mr. During borrowed writing supplies and began a letter to his mother, and Mr. Thomson retreated to his room.
He returned a few minutes later with the long, narrow case he’d carried when he first arrived, and opened it on the parlour table. Inside the velvet-lined interior were two swords and two foils with blunt practice tips.
Intrigued, Georgie crowded close.
Mr. Thomson looked at Selwyn During, who sat sipping his tea as primly as a dowager. “Do you fence, During?”
“No. Never.” He sipped again, little finger raised. “Ask Bernardi.”
“I have. Many times. The answer is always the same.”
Mr. Bernardi raised a hand without lifting his gaze from the recipe he was perusing. “The only weapons I wield are kitchen knives and my favorite pestle.”
Thomson turned back to Mr. During. “Might come in handy to know how to defend yourself, if you are to protect the plate chest.”
During winced. “I don’t know. Violence is not really my way. I think they merely expect me to watch over it, and to keep things polished and in good repair should we suddenly face some state occasion. Unlikely here in remote Devonshire! Besides, with both General Wetherall and Captain Conroy in our number, who would dare try to rob the duke?”
“Then do it to humor me. I need the exercise,” Mr. Thomson urged. “I don’t like sitting idle for hours on end.”
Mr. During set down his cup and pushed himself to his feet. “If you insist. But I’m afraid you will soon discover I am not very athletic.”
Mamma spoke up. “Not in here, gentlemen, if you please.”
“Where would you suggest?”
Mamma considered. “I don’t know...”
“The hall?” Mr. Thomson asked.
“That is rather in the middle of everything.”
