The Quiet Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

about the finer points of cookery.
    Alison herself, as soon as she had satisfied herself that there was no more that could be done to the rooms prepared for the new owner, disappeared into the nearest bathroom and cleaned herself up, found one of her own overalls—a clean one—hanging on a door, donned it, and raced downstairs to the kitchen to really get to work on the dinner.
    Luckily, a few telephone calls to reliable tradesmen had resulted in a brace of pheasants being brought to the Hall, some tinned turtle soup, a carton of frozen strawberries, cream, and some tins of anchovies.
    The anchovies she used for a savoury, the strawberries were incorporated in a fresh fruit salad, the cream whipped to be served with them, and some of it retained for coffee. The pheasants were accompanied by a rich brown gravy when they were carried into the dining room, and amongst the vegetables that she served were creamed potatoes and potato straws.
    Having had little to eat herself since breakfast she felt quite hungry herself when dishing up the meal.
    Before beating the gong—unused since Sir Francis’s day—she made certain the fire in the dining-room was behaving itself. It was in actual fact roaring up the chimney, Mrs. Davenport having piled the log-basket with logs, and the table that had been laid by herself looked attractive if a little funereal where the candles in the gleaming silver candelabrum that she had set at one end of the table did not succeed in dissipating the shadows with their flickering light.
    For some unknown reason the electric lights in the dining-room had failed, and therefore candles were essential. Fortunately she had a supply of coloured ones in her own store-cupboard.
    Just before the meal was served Mr. Leydon found his way to the largest of the three kitchens, where the ovens were sited, and placed a bottle of wine on the table.
    “Chill this if you can,” he requested. “Don’t chill it too much or you’ll ruin it.” He cast a glance round the kitchen, recognised that a transformation had taken place since morning and that the place was actually warm. He seemed surprised. “You must have done a lot of work,” he said, “to achieve this.”
    Alison, in her blue overall, and with her pale gold hair lightly smudged with flour, answered a trifle drily.
    “I engaged some help from the village.” For the first time he became aware of the two young women scouring saucepans and putting away used utensils at the far end of the kitchen. “I hope that’s in order. I mean,” a little awkwardly, “they have to be paid—”
    “Of course.” He spoke loftily. “Naturally I shall pay them, and you must let me know the cost of all this...” waving a hand to indicate the contents of the littered table.
    Alison flushed slightly.
    “I didn’t mean the food, Mr. Leydon,” she protested. “I’m perfectly happy to provide you with dinner.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous!” he exclaimed. His expression was good-humoured, and she was not entirely surprised to find that he had changed into a dinner-jacket. It was perfectly tailored and fitted him so well that for the first time it was really borne in on her that he was an extremely personable man ... a handsome man by any standards. His cool grey eyes flickered over her. “I feel I ought to ask you to join us at dinner, but I’m not quite certain who would take over here if you did. Could matters proceed now without you?” He directed a more doubtful glance at the washers-up.
    “Oh, no, thank you all the same.” Alison was heartily glad that she had no option but to refuse. “Jenny and Margaret are not really cooks, and I have to supervise them. But Jenny will wait at table. She’s had quite a lot of experience, and she’s not clumsy.”
    “Good!”
    He helped himself to a grape from a dish on the table.
    “What about dessert?”
    “It’s on the dining-room sideboard.”
    “Splendid.” Another grape, and then he turned away. “By the way,