And the Bride Wore Prada by Katie Oliver Read Free Book Online Page A

a baby.’
    When they’d disappeared up the stairs to their rooms, Helen re-emerged from the shadows and wondered what she ought to do. She needed to call Tom, and soon; but she hadn’t anything to tell him, really.
    Besides, she couldn’t very well call him on the house phone, in the middle of the great hall of Draemar Castle.
    As she hovered indecisively at the foot of the staircase, Wren appeared, striding briskly towards the baize door that led to the kitchen.
    She came to a stop. ‘Oh, hello! Helen, isn’t it? Had you any luck getting hold of a towing service?’
    Helen shook her head. ‘They can’t send anyone until at least tomorrow. Or later, if the snow we’re expected to get arrives tonight.’
    ‘Oh, what a nuisance...I’m so sorry. Of course you must stay here with us,’ she decided. ‘We’ve plenty of room.’
    ‘I don’t want to be a bother—’ Helen began.
    ‘Nonsense, it’s no bother. I won’t hear of you staying at the gatehouse with Colm. He won’t welcome the company, and I’m sure you’ve no wish to spend another evening being glowered at.’
    Helen laughed. ‘Not especially, no. Dreadful man, isn’t he?’
    ‘Well, he has his moments, I suppose,’ Wren allowed, ‘and he
is
a hard worker. Nevertheless, if he were clean-shaven and attired in proper evening kit, I vow he’d make a very credible Mr Rochester. Or Mr Darcy, come to that. He’s very much the broody, mysterious, nothing-much-good-to-say type, isn’t he?’
    ‘Yes,’ Helen agreed. ‘Yes, he is.’
    ‘We’re about to meet in the drawing room for a tour of the castle,’ Wren went on, ‘if you’d care to join us?’
    Helen nodded. ‘I’d like that very much. Thank you.’
    And as Wren excused herself and resumed her path to the kitchens, Helen made her way across the hall to the drawing room to join the others.

Chapter 9
    Later that day, after Dominic and Gemma re-emerged from their rooms, Tarquin and Wren led everyone on a tour of the castle, through the keeping room, buttery, bottlery, kitchens, dungeons, and great hall, and down the formidable length of the long gallery, until they trooped, exhausted, back to the drawing room for afternoon tea.
    ‘I can’t believe your father actually rode his horse up the staircase,’ Natalie said as she sank into a chair.
    ‘It’s true.’ Tarquin followed them inside. ‘There are still hoof marks on the treads. Grandfather gave him a good hiding for it, believe me.’
    ‘What I don’t understand,’ Gemma ventured as she accepted a cup of tea from Wren and balanced it on her lap, ‘is why butter wasn’t kept in the buttery? You said it’s where ales and meads were stored; so why not call it the ‘meadery’ or the ‘winery’? Makes no bloody sense to me.’
    He nodded. ‘It’s all a bit confusing, isn’t it? Butter was kept in the larder, and bottles – ‘butts’ to use the Latin term – of ale and mead were stored in the buttery.’ His smile was wry. ‘One couldn’t drink the water back then, apparently.’
    ‘Yes,’ Rhys agreed, ‘I’ve heard the meat was so spoiled it had to be drowned in herbs and sauces.’
    ‘That’s a common misconception,’ Tarquin replied, ‘but it isn’t true. Animals were slaughtered and eaten within a few days, and the meat was likely fresher than what we buy at the market today. Spices were expensive; a cook wouldn’t waste them on rancid meat. I doubt it would’ve masked the taste, at any rate. So beef and mutton and pork were layered with salt to preserve it, or soaked in salt brine, or smoked and hung up to dry.’
    ‘You’re so knowledgeable, Tark!’ Natalie exclaimed, impressed. ‘I’d no idea.’
    ‘You have to remember, I grew up here,’ he replied, and shrugged. ‘Tour groups were always trooping through the castle – still do, on occasion ‒ which my father absolutely abhors. I used to tag along, when I wasn’t away at school. I learnt the tour guide’s script off by heart.’
    ‘This