The Fencing Master's Daughter

by Giselle Marks

  Madelaine had almost begun to look forward to the visit; and while still not encouraging Edward in any way, conversed pleasantly with him and Julian during the drive, while her father slept at his ease. Edward was surprised at Louis’s ability to sleep silently for the majority of the journey and emerge immaculate from the carriage whenever it stopped. However, Madelaine informed him it had always been his habit, and that he was an excellent traveller on land or sea. She said she found his habit very restful and he didn’t sleep very deep and always woke alert for an emergency.

  Their arrival at Chalcombe Manor was rather different to Edward’s last visit, when the staff had met him in the road armed with whatever weapons they could lay their hands on. This time the carriages pulled through a speedily opened gate and drove up the majestic drive on a wintry but sunny afternoon, to the main entrance where the doors were opened immediately by Jenkins who had obviously been warned of the earl’s party’s arrival. Edward handed Madelaine out of the carriage and, placing her hand on his arm, escorted her into his country home.

  In the hall, the indoor staff had lined up for the earl’s inspection and his mother, Lady Henrietta Charrington, accompanied by cousin Almira, welcomed them home. The two large fire-places in the hall decorated with fresh evergreen foliage blazed with log fires and the manor smelled of fresh pine branches, wood smoke and lavender. Lady Charrington welcomed her son with a kiss; and as Madelaine curtseyed to her hostess, she raised her up with a hug and declared effusively “How pretty you look, now you must be exhausted from journeying so far.”

  If she was putting a cheerful expression on to disguise her misgivings, even her own son Edward could not discern it, and was relieved at her cheerful acceptance of his choice. Lady Charrington went on to welcome Madelaine’s father, the Chevalier Devereaux, who bowed and kissed her hand in the grand French manner, causing her to become very flustered. Edward noted his mother being impressed by Louis and remembered the story Senor Vargez had told, about how the ladies had sought out Louis when he had been younger. He found himself not immune to Louis’s charm, so why should he be surprised to find his still exquisite mother was not unmoved by it either.

  That evening there were to be just the five of them for dinner; Edward, his mother, cousin Almira, Madelaine and her father. Julian would dine that evening with his family at the vicarage. On the following day Sophia, Edward’s sister, with her husband, Sir Anthony Wynstanley, would arrive for the holidays with their two small sons. Henrietta’s younger brother, Sir Bardolph Purcell, would arrive later in the day with his wife, Callista, and their brood of children. Julian’s father and mother were invited to dinner that evening and Julian would attend. A few of the Charringtons’ local friends had also been invited to dine at the Manor that evening.

  Madelaine was helped into her new rose pink evening dress and her maid arranged her hair in loose ringlets falling from a matching rose pink ribbon. Louis surprised Madelaine by bringing to her room an old box before she completed her toilette. The box contained a number of pieces of jewellery that Louis had kept, belonging to Madelaine’s mother Julia. Madelaine had been aware much had been sold after her mother’s death to pay for the funerals, but she had not realised any of her jewellery had been kept by Louis for her. There was a pretty string of pearls, some amber beads and a delicate garnet necklace with matching earrings which she chose to wear with her pink frock.

  There were a couple of small brooches and some more earrings, her mother’s rings remained, but the diamond necklace, Madelaine remembered her mother wearing when she still alive had been sold long ago to pay for the stone covering Madelaine’s mother’s and little brother’s grave. Some golden bangles and an intricate cameo worn on a ribbon completed the small collection. Madelaine kissed her father on both cheeks and was surprised to find him wiping away a tear from his eye.

  “You’re as beautiful as a fairy queen Madelaine. I’m so proud of you ...”

  Madelaine fondly hugged her father and walked down the stairs with her hand resting on his arm. Edward watched them descend together; Madelaine made his heart beat faster just looking at her, but this was the first time he had seen her dressed for the evening as befitted her true status. Observing her and Louis together, he found it hard to believe the information he had received that day from his lawyers, who had been trying to discover the truth of Louis’s origins in France. Louis looked so noble, so much the autocratic elegant aristocrat, Edward found the very idea that he might be a fraud hard to believe. He did not believe Madelaine was party to the fraud, if fraud it was; nor could he blame Louis for wanting to see his daughter creditably established.

  Lady Charrington was last down and when dinner was announced went in on Louis’s arm leaving Edward to escort Madelaine and Almira. They dined in the small dining room, seated at a table that would easily seat sixteen, but their places had been set at one end of the table. Edward was seated at the head of the table with Lady Chalcombe on his right hand and Madelaine on his left. Louis was seated next to Lady Chalcombe and opposite Almira, who sat next to Madelaine. Lady Chalcombe and Louis maintained a flow of conversation attempting to include Almira in such remarks as could be addressed to her. It was obvious the dowager appreciated being the subject of Louis’s gallantry. Edward noticed her eyes were sparkling and a becoming flush had brightened her complexion.

  Madelaine conversed quietly when addressed by either Edward or his mother; and attempted to engage Almira in conversation by offering her a compliment on the arrangements of the festive greenery which festooned the room. Her maid had made a point of informing her that Miss Almira Charrington was responsible for the seasonal displays. Madelaine ate the food offered without much pleasure, but without complaint, but both Edward and Lady Chalcombe were disappointed by the food placed before them.

  Patrice, their London chef, had been allowed a holiday over the festive visit, for he detested travelling to the country and intended to remain at Grosvenor Square with the few staff that remained for the holidays. On previous visits to Chalcombe Manor he had so disrupted the kitchen staff with his displays of temper that Lady Henrietta had found it necessary to deal with the rows in person. This visit was the first time that the Manor’s cook Mrs. Worters had been called upon to feed more than a simple meal and she had been flustered by Lady Chalcombe’s demands for a more fashionable menu. It was apparent her efforts had fallen far short of Patrice’s culinary excellence.

  Mrs. Worters was officially a widow of some years’ standing; although the Manor’s housekeeper Mrs Moss had been heard to tartly remark to Jenkins “I believe the fabled Jacob Worters only existed in Mrs. Worters’ imagination.” Jenkins was aware her views that Martha Worters was not quite as respectable as she made out, were only expressed after one of their regular skirmishes over the demarcation lines of their territories.

  Louis had embarrassedly pushed the food around his plate thinking nostalgically of Henri’s culinary efforts. He was curious where Henri had got to in this barn of a house, because he had failed to appear before dinner to assist him in dressing. Not that he had really required his assistance. His evening clothes had been laid out early, neatly pressed and he was wearing his new embroidered pale green waistcoat and hot water had been sent up. But Henri had not appeared to assist with either shaving or dressing.

  Louis had been touched when Henri had presented him with the two hundred guineas from the diamonds. There had been a discussion between Henri and Madelaine in which they decided there would be definitely be card games over the visit. They agreed it would be better if Louis had some money to stake in his pockets. It had taken them some time to come up with a believable lie they could use. Henri finally had explained to Louis “I was very lucky backing a horse in a race. So I continued to re-stake it, keeping the profits to one side. I had some good tips and kept winning, Monsieur.” Madelaine and Henri doubted Louis believed their story, but he was persuaded to take the money.

  Fresh plates were laid for the second course w
hich appeared with a group of footmen accompanied by a rosy faced Henri, in chef’s white wearing a pristine toque on his balding pate. He carried a number of covered dishes and placed them with some panache upon the table. The removal of the covers on all the dishes showed the Manor’s Mrs. Worters had produced a somewhat over-cooked roast goose, a slightly battered sturgeon served with a tartare cream, an acceptable honey glazed ham with mushroom tarts, creamed parsnips and cardoons in butter.

  Henri however had added boeuf aux oignons glacé, vol-au-vents stuffed with chicken and asparagus, a spiced pear in red wine tarte and some delightful chestnut ices to complete the meal.

  Henri apologized in percussive French to his master for not attending him to assist him in dressing and explained the kitchen had seemed at a loss to serve an adequate meal and he had undertaken to tutor Madame Worters in “La Cuisine Francaise” during the Chevalier’s stay. “I accept that Henri, you are forgiven the cuisine was more important,” Louis replied in English. “May I help you to some of the beef, Lady Chalcombe?”

  “Thank you, yes please, Chevalier,” she replied. So Louis served Lady Chalcombe with the beef and then himself.

  “If you need a valet during your stay, then Plovett could easily assist you as well, Chevalier. That would leave Henri free to cook,” Edward asked slightly embarrassed, but not wishing to change Henri’s decision.

  “It is not a problem, my lord. I am quite capable of dressing myself,” Louis insisted, savouring his dinner. Edward and the others continued to tuck into Henri’s creations with considerable enjoyment.

  Lady Chalcombe was troubled the introduction of another temperamental French chef into the Manor’s kitchens, would cause further disruptions, but her fears were soon found to be unfounded. If she had listened to the servants’ gossip she might have learned that Mrs. Worters seemed to be particularly taken with the ugly, rotund Henri and seemed perfectly amiable to the concept of cooking under his direction. The general view of the servants was that the plump Mrs. Worters was flattered by the little Frenchman’s attentiveness and they were amused. However once Henri started cooking and the smells drifted into their nostrils, none of the staff were prepared to say anything which might discourage Henri from his efforts.

  If the staff were disappointed at how little of Henri’s handiwork returned below stairs they were more than happy to sample some of the results of a patisserie demonstration, he began after dinner was served, preparing a number of varieties in sufficient numbers so all the staff enjoyed a few and there were sufficient prepared to be served with tea on the following day when the additional guests arrived. If Henri’s accomplishments had made extra work in cleaning up after him, then no one complained as they enjoyed the fruits of his labour.

  Henri manufactured tiny rolls which he left on baking sheets to rise and arranged some mutton cutlets marinating, whilst directing the preparation of vegetables for a soup for the next evening and the filleting of a batch of rabbits for the staff’s luncheon, then he had plenty of willing volunteers prepared to assist. Even Jenkins replete, with Henri’s sugared confectionary, unbent sufficiently to provide Henri with several bottles of brandy and wine from Edward’s cellar to add to his magical recipes. He even joined him in a glass when Henri was finally satisfied that he had accomplished enough to simplify the following day’s culinary production.

  Upstairs Edward and Louis did not linger over their port and soon joined the ladies in the drawing room where they were seated in front of a well-made fire. Cousin Almira was playing the pianoforte with more enthusiasm than skill and Madelaine had fetched some embroidery project, while Lady Chalcombe attempted to quiz her on her travels through Europe and on her education. The gentlemen’s entrance halted this inquisition and the conversation moved to the news of Napoleon’s invasion of Russia ending in disaster with the withdrawal of all French troops. The melancholy news of the wreck of his Majesty’s cutter, the Alban, with the loss of fifty-nine lives on the coast of Suffolk had also made the newspapers and was considered soberly by those present.

  Plans for the following day were discussed, with Edward inviting Madelaine for a drive in the morning around his estate and a visit to some of his tenant farmers. Madelaine accepted the invitation to Edward’s relief; as she realised everyone was listening for her answer. She had no wish to embarrass her host and the drive would give her another opportunity to try to persuade him to withdraw his proposal. Edward surprised at her easy acquiescence did not intend to try to further his suit, but instead to attempt to persuade Madelaine to confide in him the reasons for her refusal. He was becoming convinced there was more behind her objection to their marriage, than her stated determination to never marry.

  Edward hoped if he went very gently he would get her to explain why she found the idea of marriage so repugnant. Madelaine now seemed more relaxed in his company and no longer shrunk away from his slightest touch. He thought she was beginning to trust him a little, but he could not conjecture what the obstacles were that prevented her accepting his offer and becoming his wife. Even though she stated she had no objections to either his person or character; her repeated refusals made him feel he must fall far short of what she required as a partner. He wondered if he had not behaved romantically enough towards her, but now she no longer flinched away from him, he was wary of destroying the little progress they had made towards conciliation.

  Chapter Sixteen - La Chasse

  Only three persons descended to partake of breakfast, as cousin Almira followed her adopted mistress’s practice taking a cup of chocolate and toast on a tray. The addition of some of Henri’s fragrant rolls was appreciated by those ladies, both whom consumed more than their usual Spartan meal. Lady Chalcombe had approved the menus for the next few days previously, but was surprised to find an amended menu for the day written tout en Francaise, in an unknown and somewhat ornate hand, she assumed to be Henri’s, upon her tray. She had no problem translating with relish this epistle and appended “Il est convenu,” to confirm her agreement to the bottom of the page.

  Lady Chalcombe lay back to plan her day with some enthusiasm. The entertaining Edward expected her to supervise during the holiday period, required considerable organisation on her behalf and she felt more confident all would be achieved with distinction, if Henri was in charge of the kitchen. Crossing her fingers she wished fervently the harmony in the Manor’s kitchens would continue unabated. She prayed Henri would not regret taking over the kitchens when he discovered all it entailed to cater for the holiday season.

  She had already sent out the invitations for the Christmas Ball held on St Stephen’s Day but there was also a party for the tenants and villagers on the eve of Christmas when everyone came to the Manor for the afternoon. The gathering terminated with a lantern lit walk or drive back to the village to attend midnight mass at St Mary’s Church in the village of Chalcombe. No invitations were necessary for the event, everyone came without exception.

  The thought that, when Edward married Madelaine, his wife would take over the burden of running the Manor, town house and Edward’s other houses made the Dowager smile. She decided it was time to have the dower house re-decorated to her taste and she decided to speak to Shawcross, their agent later in the day.

  Jenkins and Lewis served breakfast to the earl, Louis and Madelaine.They made a good meal, finding the chill country air had sharpened their appetites. They were lingering over their coffee and chocolate when Henri dressed once more in white approached Louis respectfully. He waited for him to finish his cup and turn his eyes in his direction before addressing him. Louis nodded to his associate who launched a garrulous stream of colloquial French, which Edward could not follow.

  “Merci Henri, Laisse le avec moi, I will deal with it,ˮ Louis replied to Henri.

  Louis thanked him and asked Henri to leave the matter with him.

  “Is there trouble brewing in the kitchens, Chevalier?” Edward enquired.

  “No, my lord, nothing is really wrong. Henri is gr
eatly enjoying catering for a greater audience, but is anxious to give full rein to his genius. He complained the only game had been a few scrawny rabbits. Henri expressed the opinion there should be pheasant, partridge, pigeon, hare and possibly venison to serve in a nobleman’s mansion. He insists he caught sight of some fine deer in the distance as we drove through the park. Then he suggested some local pike or carp or any other fish would not go amiss either. Roast venison with a port and blackberry confit sauce and game pies figured large in Henri’s arguments,” Louis explained.

  “I entirely concur with Henri and game pies are a very winning argument,” Edward declared.

  “Inform Arkright I wish to speak with him,” he informed Jenkins.

  Obviously a shooting party would have to be organised. His brother-in-law, Sir Anthony Wynstanley, who was arriving later that day was accounted a fair shot and his uncle, Sir Bardolph Purcell, was an enthusiastic supporter of the sport. He himself was considered an excellent shot and Julian’s father Reverend Creighton enjoyed the opportunity to take a pot at Edward’s game, although with only moderate success.

  “Would you like to join a shooting party, Chevalier?”

  “I would be happy to join a party, my lord, but I am only a moderate shot,” Louis replied.

  “My father is being modest, my lord. He shoots well above average with both a pistol and musket,” Madelaine said having silently ate her breakfast while the game discussion had continued.

  “I have no great expertise with a fire-arm, Madelaine,” he demurred.

  “You only say that because you compare your standard with a pistol with your consummate excellence as a swordsman,” Madelaine insisted. Julian had entered the room a few minutes earlier, having returned for the vicarage and had overheard some of the conversation.