Page 12 of Impossible
She passed a few doors before reaching the kitchen, a large, open room with a long table in the center. Standing on the other side near the middle was a squat woman with a cap mostly covering her blonde hair—and Mrs. Bundle, who leaned her hip against the table.
“Good morning,” Ada said, appearing to startle them as Mrs. Bundle jerked and stood straight. The cook—for Ada presumed the other woman was the cook since she’d been slicing carrots—dropped her knife.
“Good heavens, you silly chit, I nearly cut my finger off,” the cook said.
“You didn’t either,” Mrs. Bundle admonished. She gave Ada an apologetic smile. “You surprised us, Miss Treadway. Is there something you need?”
“Many things, actually. I just came from the stable. Why is Og so very disagreeable?”
The cook waved her hand. “He’s always been that way. He’s been here nearly as long as I have, and in all that time—near forty years—I’ve never once seen him smile.”
Perhaps it was he who’d influenced the viscount to be surly.
Forty years! The cook and Og would have such wonderful information to share, not that Ada expected Og would do so. She only hoped the cook would be more amenable.
“What a long history you have here,” Ada said, moving to the table to stand opposite them. “I imagine you’ve seen a great many things.”
“That I have,” she said with a twinkle in her blue eyes. She picked up the knife and began slicing carrots again.
“This is Mrs. Debley,” Mrs. Bundle said. “You’ve probably deduced that she is the cook.”
“And a wonderful one at that,” Ada remarked with a smile. “Your bread is especially delicious. As are your biscuits. And last night’s meat pie was divine. Everything I’ve eaten since arriving has been sublime.”
Mrs. Debley paused in her work, her face flushing slightly as she smiled. “I thank you. It’s pleasing to cook for someone who appreciates it.” She rushed to add, “Not that his lordship doesn’t. His appetite just isn’t the same since he came back from war, the poor thing.”
Proof that he was changed, at least when it came to food. “I understand the viscount was rather different before—more cheerful, perhaps.”
“War will damage anyone, I imagine,” Mrs. Debley noted sadly.
Ada didn’t disagree, but couldn’t help but think of Lucien who had fought alongside Warfield yet managed to be one of the kindest, most charming, and altogether pleasant people she’d ever met. As much as she wanted to know about Warfield and why he was so angry—and whether it was to do with that nasty scarring on his face—she had to focus on the matter at hand, which was the estate.
“It’s so quiet down here, Mrs. Debley. Where are your assistants, your scullery maids?”
The cook exchanged a look with Mrs. Bundle and gave her head a slight but brisk shake. “I’ve a girl who comes in the afternoons to help me prepare food. I don’t need much with only his lordship to cook for.”
“But you also cook for the retainers. Surely that is a good amount of work.”
“Not at all. We eat the same as his lordship, so I’m only preparing one meal.”
That was certainly odd. But efficient in a household of this size, Ada supposed.
“There are very few of us,” Mrs. Bundle said, sounding weary as she often did. “But I suspect you know that. I also suspect you want to know exactly how many there are.”
“I need to know for my report.” Ada offered a gentle smile. “I have the impression you are all overworked and would benefit from assistance. It seems several retainers have left over the past few years, and it doesn’t appear as though they’ve been replaced.”
“We’re doing all right,” Mrs. Debley said, her brow furrowing. She went back to her task, her hand moving quickly and accurately as she cut small disks of carrot and moved on to the next one. “Don’t you go bothering his lordship. He’s doing the best he can.”
Mrs. Bundle cast a glance toward the cook. “Wecoulduse more help, especially you.”
“Bah. I’m fine.” Mrs. Debley looked up from her slicing and fixed Ada with a direct stare. “Don’t make trouble where it isn’t needed.”
“I have no wish to do that,” Ada assured her gently. “I seek the truth so that I may communicate it to Lord Lucien. As his lordship’s closest friend, he only wants to support Lord Warfield.”
“He can do that by minding his own business,” Mrs. Debley said pertly. She finished cutting the last carrot, then moved away from the table to fetch a pot.
Mrs. Bundle met Ada’s gaze and inclined her head toward the doorway. Ada left the table and went into the corridor. The housekeeper met her there and gestured for them to walk back toward the stairs.
“Mrs. Debley is incredibly fond—and protective—of his lordship,” Mrs. Bundle said quietly.
