Murder Makes an Entree by Amy Myers Read Free Book Online

him to a chair discreetly repositioned well to
     the side of the table, where he could not contaminate the committee. Angelina politely turned her chair to face him, earning
     Thomas’s displeasure. Lord Beddington dozed on.
    ‘And how is Norfolk?’ enquired Sir Thomas blandly.
    This nonplussed Auguste, who had no idea that he had been appointed in his absence chef to His Royal Highness.Fortunately he was saved from rendering the Prince of Wales’s tactful gesture to the Society void by Sir Thomas adding: ‘Or
     are you part of the Marlborough House set?’ laughing at his little joke. Servants did not have sets.
    Auguste opened his mouth, reflected and acquiesced. It could do him no harm to accept this undeserved royal patronage. One
     for Emma! He murmured something deferentially indistinct, which seemed to satisfy Sir Thomas, and moved on to safe ground:
     food and his menu.
    ‘
Voilà!
’ With a flourish he handed the results of his day’s labours to Sir Thomas, who stared at it blankly.
    ‘What is this?’ he enquired politely.
    Auguste was taken aback. Fancy anyone not knowing what a
mousse de homard
was. ‘It is a delicate warm mousse of lobster, monsieur, followed by turbot with quenelles of crawfish—’
    ‘No, no, no, my man. Why are you handing me a menu?’ Sir Thomas interrupted impatiently. ‘You are here to receive a menu,
     not give me one. You are here to get your instructions.’
    Auguste gazed at him, heart sinking. There had been some mistake. To get instructions? Was this what Auguste Didier had descended
     to? Was it for this that Auguste Didier was proposing to forgo a precious portion of his holiday? He would leave immediately.
     Then he reflected. How could he give offence to the Prince of Wales? He was, after all, half English. His English half might
     be committing treason by so doing. He gulped. He must try what reason could achieve.
    He would point out that he was on a fish-cooking-instruction holiday – no, he could not do that now that he had been classified
     as chef to His Royal Highness. Subtlety was called for.
    ‘Only the very best of fare must be provided for such an important banquet, monsieur, and in Broadstairs only fish surely
     may be considered.’
    ‘But unfortunately Mr Dickens rarely mentions fish, Mr Didier,’ said Angelina, smiling, ‘save in the plainest of references.’
    ‘No, no, no,’ interposed Sir Thomas as though this was entirely Auguste’s fault. ‘I’m afraid you don’t understand at all,
     my man. It is not
us
who choose the menu, it is not
you
. It is Mr Dickens.’
    ‘
Pardon, monsieur?
’ Auguste was completely lost now. Surely this gentleman must know Mr Dickens died some time ago?
    ‘This is the Society of Literary Lionisers and it is the custom that the Grand Banquet should include only food approved and
     mentioned by the subject of the year. This year our Lion is Mr Charles Dickens. The choice of food is selected from his writings
     and our knowledge of his likes and dislikes.’
    ‘It hasn’t been easy, Mr Didier,’ said Angelina cheerfully, with a sidelong glance at Oliver. ‘Mr Dickens’s characters seem
     to have had very plain tastes in food.’
    ‘Nonsense, my dear Angelina,’ said Sir Thomas, for once irritated by her. ‘One has only to read the novels with care to see
     what appreciation lies behind every mention of food. And consider the fact that Mrs Dickens herself penned a cookery book,
     that she and Mr Dickens were visitors at Gore House—’
    Auguste stiffened. ‘At Gore House?’
    ‘Mr Alexis Soyer’s Gastronomic Symposium of all Nations eating house. If you, Mr Didier, cannot find the recipes for anything
     on our menu, you should refer to the cookery books of Alexis Soyer which were approved by Dickens himself.’
    ‘Steak
à la Soyer
is included in
What Shall we Have for Dinner?
by Lady Clutterbuck, Mrs Dickens’s
nom de plume
. So, Mr Didier, you need have no
fear
at using this recipe,’ trilled