Lone Pine Bride (The Brides of Lone Pine #1)(43)

Seth ran after Hannah as she made her way to the kitchen. “I could do it,” he said.

“Could you?”

He grinned. “Probably not.”

“You do something you’re good at and I’ll bungle my way through something I have no idea about. How about that?”

“You are so....” He paused and turned. “Call us when the banquet is ready.”

“I will.” So, he said. So what, she thought. Was it going to be a compliment or an insult? She went into the kitchen and looked speculatively at the ingredients in the pantry.

There was a large fish, something that had not been there earlier so Seth must have brought it in. She looked in the scullery and a fishing rod was leaning against the wall. He must have caught it before breakfast because they had all been busy since.

But what did you do with a fish because the bones could be dangerous? Fillet it. She recalled how she watched their chef do it one day though she had only stayed a couple of minutes. But she saw him slice it from top to bottom and there was a spine or something. She wasn’t sure of the anatomy of a fish. Going for a sharp knife she ran it down the back of the fish and removed every bone she could see.

So far, so good, but how did you cook a fish? Put it in the oven, she decided, and she would cook the vegetables that were in the larder. Corn on the cob again because she liked that and they didn’t have it much at home. Potatoes, and should she peel them?

Too time consuming, she decided, and threw as many as she felt she needed in the huge pot. She added vegetables and looked at the carrots. They were clean, she noticed, but should she peel them? She was sure the chef did in her childhood home.

Never. She might be improving in her cooking but there was a point where a person drew the line. She took off the greenery, threw it down the garden then went out to collect it again. Maybe the horses would like it because horses liked different food to just their hay. She put the pot on the stove and filled it with water.

So now the sweet. She could do custard and fruit again but was there something else she could make? She recalled how when she was a child her mother would make pastry in order for them to be able to cut out animals or whatever shapes they wanted. Flour, water and a bit of salt. She frowned in concentration. Wasn’t there something else?

She could ask Monica, of course, but perversely she didn’t want to do that, so what was the missing ingredient? Butter, she suddenly recalled, and would the children like to make animals? She went to the door, called them and they ran towards her.

“I’m making pastry,” she said. “Do you want to do some animals to cook?”

They did, they replied, and also wanted to knead the mixture once she began doing so. She had no idea on quantity of the ingredients but it seemed alright and the children spent a while cutting out their shapes before going outside again to play. Horses, cats, dogs, rabbits, sheep and cows. Some were unrecognisable but the young people were proud of them. After they left she cut out a house and also made a couple of pies, one with conserve in it and one with apple which she cooked. She would spread some conserve on the animals after they cooked, she decided, and she could also make little squares to do the same. She put everything in the oven and felt rather proud of herself.

Now she would lay the table in the third room Seth had downstairs and put a pretty cloth on it in the way they did at home. That was, if he had any. She opened a few drawers in the huge dresser he had near one of the kitchen walls and there were two. They were just the right size, she found, and did he use them when he was on his own? But he wasn’t on his own now, he had ..... She paused in her thinking. Not her and she must stop thinking about it.

She spread the cloth carefully on the table and smoothed it down. At home she had taken such things for granted but now it was nice making things look neat. She fetched cutlery and was relieved that he had enough. She knew that from the previous day but had not thought about it.

She mustn’t let anything burn, she thought as she went back to the kitchen, so she must keep an eye on the clock. Just over thirty minutes seemed to do the previous day but maybe the fish would need a bit longer. She could test everything by pushing a fork in to see if each thing was soft.

She went out into the garden and looked around at the various flowers and shrubs. At home their garden was maintained by a gardener and she took it for granted. She would often pick some of the flowers to put in vases and had enjoyed doing so. Should she pick some now and put them on the table? She took a few white poppies, went inside and looked everywhere for a vase.

But there wasn’t any and she knew that the receptacle Seth had used for his flowers was a shaving mug because her father and brother had one. She smiled and the feeling in her was one of tenderness, a feeling she immediately repressed. Going into the kitchen she looked everywhere for a vase.

But there wasn’t one so what could she use? A mug, she decided, and she would drape a bit of greenery over the handle, maybe even over its whole circumference. She worked carefully, took the flowers through to put on the table and stood back to survey her handiwork.

Napkins. They needed napkins but did Seth have any? She hadn’t thought of it the day before. She looked in the drawer where the tablecloth had been and there were six. Six and she would do without one. She lay them beside each place and went back into the kitchen.

If her Seth had servants she wouldn’t need to cook, she thought, but she was enjoying herself and she would be happy to cook for a man she loved. She would be happy to cook for this Seth. Except, of course, that she didn’t love him but he was the man here at the moment. She sat on the edge of the table and looked bleakly around.