Page 41 of An Amiable Foe
To prepare Eau de Cologne
Essence of bergamotte, 3 oz.
Neroli, 1 1/2 drachms
Oil of rosemary, 1 drachm
Cedrat, 2 drachms
Lemons, 3 drachms
Spirit of wine, 12 lbs
Spirit of rosemary, 3 1/4 lbs
Eau de mélisse de Carmes, 2 1/4 lbs
Mix, then distill in balneum mariae, and store in a cold cellar. Used as a cosmetic, and made, with sugar, into a ratafia.
Ottar of Roses
Steep a large quantity of the petals of the rose, freed from every extraneous matter…
The page was filled with various recipes for perfumes and cosmetics, and Marianne eagerly read the precious script of a beloved hand. It was almost as though some divine force was reminding her she was not alone. That she never had been. She looked at Mrs. Malford, who was watching her with fondness as Marianne acquainted herself with the contents of the basket. The cook had known how much this would mean to her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Malford. I will treasure this.”
“I don’t doubt ye will.” Mrs. Malford patted her hand. “I told Sarah, ye must ask me for anything ye might need whilst yer at the cottage. We’re not far.”
Marianne smiled and hugged the basket to her chest. “I will have some of the tea you prepared, and then we should be going if we want the cottage made ready before nightfall.”
Upon entering her mother’s sitting room, Perry jumped up from the seat he had taken next to his uncle. “We were waiting for you to pour the tea. Shall I take that for you?” He reached out for the basket and she handed it to him.
She turned to Sarah, who was standing by the tea tray. “Has Miss Fife had any tea sent to her room?” She did not offer to have her companion brought to the drawing room, knowing that Miss Fife only exasperated Lord Steere.
“She has, miss.” Sarah dipped a curtsy, which Marianne suspected was more for Lord Steere’s benefit than hers since she herself did not require such formality. “If ye ’ull excuse me, I’ll prepare a basket with what Mrs. Malford set aside for our kitchen.”
Marianne nodded and sat, pouring the tea and handing a cup to Lord Steere, then another one for Perry. She served herself last.
“How came it to be that your uncle bequeathed the cottage to you?” Lord Steere reached over and filled his plate with ham, cheese, a roll, and some of the cakes that were on the tray. “Were you aware of it?”
Marianne sipped her tea, suddenly plunged into the unhappy memories of the day she had learned that the castle was no longer her home.
“I was not aware. The attorney who came to inform me of his death brought the map with the property carved out of it, which he said had been set aside for me.”
“Hm.”
Lord Steere made no further comment, and Marianne could not discern a motive for his question or whether he was displeased. She doubted he had asked out of compassion over her having been cut out from inheriting the castle itself. She remained silent as he and Perry spoke of other matters pertaining to the estate, and even things regarding the barony that did not concern her at all. At last, Perry stood.
“Miss Edgewood, I will have the cart readied so I might bring you to the cottage.” His demeanor was formal, but his clear eyes met hers with such tenderness she could not help but respond with a smile. When he left, she found Lord Steere looking at her shrewdly.
“Miss Edgewood, I hope you will know your place.” His benign smile held a hint of severity that caused Marianne to look at him in surprise. He was displeased somehow.
“My place?” she asked, at a loss. The only thing she could think of was that her place was here at the castle, but surely he did not mean that.
“Your place regarding the difference in station between my nephew and yourself,” he replied. “He is in line for the barony, a great estate far from Brindale and with some visibility, not only in Essex but also in London. You have grown up here, have no accomplishments and are not fit to move about the ton. You must not think that my nephew has any serious designs upon you. My preference would be that you had inherited something not on the grounds of the estate, but rather at some distance to avoid any temptation you might present. As it stands, we cannot change the facts. But you would do well not to set your sights too high.”
All of the day’s joys were whisked away in an instant, and Marianne set down the teacup with great caution lest he see it tremble. Her gaze fixed on her lap, she answered in a quiet voice, “I do not have my sights set too high, my lord.”
