“Yes, I know about his wife and child dying.”
“That was one thing, yes. Ah, now mind your steps, these stairs can be treacherous to females, males too if they’ve imbibed too much.”
Jessie said nothing more until the Grand Personage had guided her down to the last magnificent oak step and her feet were solidly on the black-and-white Italian marble entrance hall that was larger than the entire downstairs of her father’s house.
She felt very provincial. Her laughter was long gone. She looked around her and felt the same terror she’d felt when she’d walked through those cathedral-like double doors with their huge brass lion-head knockers.
“I never imagined a house like this, sir.”
“You’ll become used to it. The Duchess hated it as a child, thought it was cold and overwhelming, but now she’s proud as the devil of it. Let’s take you to see the earl and the Duchess. They’re in the small gold room this evening. Mr. Sampson believed you would feel more comfortable there on your first night here.”
“James told me that the earl named her the Duchess when she was nine years old.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Are you visiting here, sir? Are you also an earl? Or perhaps a duke?”
“Not to my knowledge. Now, I want you to keep your head high, keep those shoulders squared, and smile. Act as if you were the queen of America come here deigning to visit. Will you try to do that?”
Jessie gulped. “I’ll try. Aren’t you coming with me?”
“Not this evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re most welcome.”
12
JESSIE JUST COULDN’T take it all in. Here she was sitting in a priceless chair that must be hundreds of years old, holding a silver fork that weighed as much as her arm, picking at fresh garden peas that rolled around on a plate that had more gold on it than every wedding ring in Baltimore melted together.
She realized this wasn’t a state banquet hall, but rather just a cozy little dining room no larger than her mother’s huge parlor. The walls were painted a light yellow. Windows lined the front, and the light silk draperies were drawn back to show the front lawn with its well-scythed grass that melted into an oak forest. She heard a strange sound that so startled her, she dropped her fork.
“It’s all right,” the Duchess said. “That was Fred.”
“Fred?”
“The peacock. He’s currently infatuated with Clorinda, but she’s having nothing to do with him. She’s a fickle little brown peahen. He is constantly fanning his magnificent tail, but alas, no luck. He’s complaining about it to us. Just ignore him.”
“All right.” Ignore an infatuated peacock? Well, she supposed that since this was England she would have to adapt to any number of strange things.
“Do you like what Maggie did to your hair?” the earl asked.
Her hand went self-consciously to the thick braids wound around and interwoven to form a circle atop her head. “And now some little streamers as I call them,” Maggie had said, “to soften the effect around your sweet face. Like that. Just pull them loose and let them curl where they will.”
“I don’t feel like me at all,” Jessie said.
“From a male perspective, you look lovely,” the earl said as he forked down a bite of boiled leg of lamb in white sauce and closed his eyes in bliss. He grinned. “Forgive me, but Badger is the chef tonight. He wanted to prepare a special dinner just for you.”
Jessie dutifully took a bite of the veal cutlet garnished with young carrots and rice. It was delicious. She took another bite then another. “James told me how Badger could cook the socks off the king’s own chef at Carlton House.”
“Try the ragout of duck and the green peas,” the Duchess said. “Yes, James always claims he’s died and gone to glutton’s heaven when Badger cooks for him.”
“Ah,” Jessie said, and closed her eyes just as the earl had. “How do both of you remain so thin?”
If Jessie wasn’t mistaken, the earl was grinning at the Duchess like a man who’d just stolen a kiss from the preacher’s wife.
His wife frowned at him and said, “Badger doesn’t cook for us like this all the time.”