Nell Gwynne's On Land and At Sea by Kage Baker, Kathleen Bartholomew Read Free Book Online

madam?”
    “Indeed, I think you might,” said Mrs. Corvey.
    She watched as Mrs. Drumm and her fellow domestic entered the room and began clearing away the trays. Mrs. Drumm, thinking herself unseen, pointed at the remaining watercress sandwiches and elbowed the housemaid.
    “Look at that! Always asks for ’em and scarcely touches ’em!,” she muttered, apparently under the impression that Mrs. Corvey was deaf as well as blind.
    “What was that, my dear?” inquired Mrs. Corvey, putting her hand to her ear.
    “I was only wondering, madam, whether the cress sandwiches was all right,” said Mrs. Drumm with a sniff.
    “Oh, I had two, myself,” exclaimed Mrs. Corvey, clasping her hands. “They were delightful. And I quite enjoyed the buns and tea cakes. Your pastry cook, if I may say so, is an artist, my dear, a positive artist.”
    Mrs. Drumm’s ruddy face brightened still further with pleasure. “Very kind of you to say so, madam, I’m sure, as it was me in fact made ’em.”
    “What a fortunate man your employer is,” replied Mrs. Corvey.
    The maid made a disgruntled noise and Mrs. Drumm shot her a warning glance. Mrs. Corvey, observing this, inquired delicately, “I wonder whether I might ask if you are content in your situation, Mrs. Drumm?”
    “I’m sure I could speak no ill of him what pays my wages, madam,” said Mrs. Drumm in a tone which implied exactly the opposite.
    “Of course,” said Mrs. Corvey in a tone which implied she understood exactly what Mrs. Drumm meant. “On the other hand, any sensible woman with a splendid gift must surely be sensitive to opportunities for advancement.”
    Mrs. Drumm eyed her in silence for a moment. Her eyes were as black as Mrs. Corvey’s own, if more natural, but gave her examining stare a considerable sharpness. Turning to the housemaid, she said, “Dolly, just you get them trays downstairs.”
    “What, both of them?” said Dolly querulously.
    Mrs. Drumm appropriated the plate of sandwiches and hurriedly stacked the trays one upon another. “There! Take ’em off.”
    Dolly complied sulkily as Mrs. Drumm took the liberty of seating herself opposite Mrs. Corvey. “May I offer you another sandwich, madam?”
    “Oh, were there any more? I was sure they had all been ate up,” said Mrs. Corvey, groping forward. Mrs. Drumm passed her a sandwich and took one herself. Mrs. Corvey consumed hers with sounds of dignified rapture; Mrs. Drumm looked pleased.
    “I make an excellent cucumber sandwich, as well,” she said.
    “ So refreshing in the summertime,” exclaimed Mrs. Corvey. “I don’t suppose you have a receipt for water ices?”
    “It happens I do, madam,” replied Mrs. Drumm. “Water ices, ice cream bombes, syllabubs, panachee jellies, flummeries, and fancy ice water cups.”
    Mrs. Corvey contained herself. “I should have thought you might have commanded your own price in London,” she said diffidently.
    “Saving your grace, I should have thought so too,” said Mrs. Drumm with a shrug, helping herself to another sandwich.“But times is hard and you take what you can.”
    “You understand, I hope, that I ask simply because Mr. Pickett and my daughter seem to get on very well—is he an agreeable employer?” said Mrs. Corvey.
    Mrs. Drumm grimaced.
    “Can’t tell a lie, madam, I’ve never worked for such a man. He’s that given to temper—last night he came in roaring and fired poor Mr. Ponsonby, saying he’d made him look a fool. Nearly hit him with his walking stick! I suspect that’s the way they carry on in America, but it won’t do here. And this morning everything was sixes and sevenses and who’s to run the household, I’d like to know? Tells me he wants all kinds of real English food—but he won’t touch the suet pudding, won’t touch the mutton, won’t touch the boiled beef and carrots, and only picks at the roast chicken and sends it back, asking whether I don’t know how to fry it! And when I fries it as best I