Shana now knew who was coming and was almost as impressed as Bob.
The Marquis of Kilbrooke had only recently inherited the title after his father’s death and his magnificent house was about four miles away from the village.
Shana’s father had of course known the previous Marquis, who had been ill for many years before he died and she had not been to Brooke Hall since she was a small child.
She remembered it was enormous and had thought that anyone who lived in it must be a King!
The Marquis’s illness, which was a stroke, made it impossible for him to communicate with those around him. There had therefore never been any opportunity for Shana to see the Hall again and it was only last year, just before Christmas that the Marquis had finally died.
Now his son had inherited.
She had heard a good deal about the Marquis. He was a man of about twenty-seven, who had been talked about in London and had been the focus of gossip in the County.
He was reputed to be dashing, athletic and handsome.
At the same time, so Shana was told, he was most particular with whom he associated. In fact, to put it bluntly, he gave himself ‘airs.’
Her father had met him once or twice and he had thought, although it was on a short acquaintance, that he was extremely intelligent, but he clearly liked having his own way.
Lord Hallam told his daughter they could expect a great many changes locally once the new Marquis had taken over the Hall and the huge estate of many hundreds of rolling acres.
“It is a tragedy that the old Marquis should have lasted so long,” her father had said. “But there was nothing anyone could do about it. His son served in the Household Brigade and then, I have heard, travelled a great deal on the Continent.”
“Why did he not come down here and run the estate,” Shana had asked, “since his father was too ill to do anything?”
“I expect he would have found it very gloomy with a dying man in the Hall,” Lord Hallam answered, “and he would feel that he should not make any changes until the estate was properly his.”
He paused before he gave a faint smile and added,
“I suspect that when he is in London his time is fully occupied. He is, I am told, a friend of the Prince of Wales and his love affairs are as much whispered about as those of His Royal Highness.”
Shana had laughed.
“Then he certainly will have no use for Hertfordshire and us,” she said, “so we will just have to forget him.”
The neighbours were all agog when the new Marquis finally arrived at the Hall. He had allowed two months to pass after his father’s death before he took over.
They learned first that he was travelling abroad and then that he was in London with the Prince of Wales.
When finally they heard he had moved into the Hall, people of local importance waited for an invitation.
But nothing came.
Shana and her father heard again and again from their neighbours how much they resented that there seemed to be no chance of their ever being invited to Brooke Hall.
“I believe already great improvements have been made inside the house,” one of their friends said. “And the Marquis holds weekend parties for his London friends. But although I have called on him and so have several other locals, he has not returned our calls nor have we received an invitation to anything.”
This created an atmosphere of resentment towards the Marquis.
Shana could not help feeling that he would find the people in the County rather boring and she and her father often sighed when they heard the sound of wheels outside their front door.
They knew that they would be interrupted from their work on his book and instead they would have to listen to a lot of gossip and a pile of complaints – none of which were of any interest or importance.
“If I were the Marquis,” she said once to her father, “I would put up a notice saying not at home at the end of the drive. Then people would not be so indignant when he refused to see them.”
“I suppose we cannot blame him altogether,” her father responded. “He is young and you must admit, my dearest, that the people who live around us are not particularly exciting.”
He laughed before he added,
“In fact I would much rather talk to old Bob. I find him much more interesting.”
Shana had laughed too as she had understood exactly what her father meant.
Now she was confronted with a very different problem.
She could understand only too well how excited Bob was. He was having the ‘mystery man,’ which the Marquis had become, eating in his dining room.
It would be an event for the village to gossip about for the next six months.
An undoubted feather in Bob’s cap and very good publicity for the Rose and Crown.
“There must be someone,” Shana wondered, “who can help you.”
“Not at this last moment,” Bob replied. “The only woman who can cook nearly as well as the missus is workin’ in the next village. Her won’t be back until late in the afternoon.”
“What time are they coming here?” Shana asked.
“His Lordship says I were to be ready for ’em soon after noon. What can I give ’em? With only Winnie here who can’t cook an egg without making it as hard as a cannon ball!”
Shana laughed and then said,
“Well, I can see it will just have to be me.”
Bob stared at her. “What be you sayin’ Miss Shana?”
“I am saying I will cook your luncheon for you, but you have to promise you will not tell him who I am, because Papa and I have not called on him as it is quite obvious he does not want visitors.”
“You’ll cook the luncheon for me, Miss Shana?” Bob repeated in an awed tone.
“I am considered quite a good cook. In fact I often cook for Papa the favourite dishes he enjoys in France or Italy.”
“All I can say,” Bob stuttered, “may God bless you. I’ve never known such kindness – but I might have expected it from – your father’s – daughter.”
There was a break in his voice and there were tears in his eyes.
Shana took off her hat and found a clean apron hanging up on the kitchen door.
She learned from Bob what had been ordered for luncheon and saw that Mrs. Grimes had already prepared some of the food as it was ready in the larder.
She told Bob to stoke up the fire and then walked over to the dining room, where she found Winnie, the maid, who was employed by Bob, sweeping the floor.
She was a girl of about sixteen and very stupid.
There was an older one whom he had employed for years. She had unexpectedly married one of his customers and left to live in another village.
Shana showed Winnie how to lay the table and told herself that she would have to go back later to make sure she had done it properly.
Next she returned to the kitchen.
It was really quite a simple luncheon his Lordship had ordered.
There were to be curried eggs to start with, which were already in the pan waiting to be cooked. Next came steak and kidney pudding made with the best meat available and vegetables to go with it and there was cheese to finish the meal.
There were, Shana learned, some excellent wines which the Marquis had provided and they at least could be dealt with by Bob.
She could not help thinking it was rather amusing that she would be able to see the Marquis at close quarters.
Practically no one in the County had even had a glimpse of him.
‘He sounds obnoxious,’ she told herself.
However, perhaps it would be fairer not to judge him before she had actually seen him. She thought it would be something most interesting to tell her father about when he returned.
If the Marquis was not aware of who she was, there was no reason why anyone else should know what had happened.
Everything was ready by the time the hands of the clock in the bar stood at twelve noon.
In th
e last half-an-hour they had heard shots in the distance and it sounded as if they were getting a large bag, which was not surprising as Bob had said this part of the Kilbrooke estate had not been shot over for many years.
A short while later Shana looked out of the window into the yard behind the inn and saw gamekeepers carrying an enormous amount of game.
They were followed by the guns who came into the house by the back door where Bob was waiting to welcome them.
“Good mornin’, my Lord,” Shana heard him say. “I hope your Lordship’s enjoyed good sport.”
“Very good indeed,” a voice answered. “And I assure you we are all hungry. Is luncheon ready?”
“I thinks you Lordship might like a drink first,” Bob suggested. “I’ve opened the bottles your Lordship brought ’ere.”
“Then we will do just that,” the Marquis agreed.
He had a deep clear voice, but Shana felt, however, that there was something a little cold and impersonal about it.
‘I am being critical,’ she warned herself.
Her father had taught her many years ago to analyse the people she met. She must, he had said, be aware of what they were feeling and not only of what they said.
She had learned to be a good judge of character as her father had always been and he had often told her how useful it was to him in his diplomatic life. He would realise even before a man spoke what his character was really like.
‘I am sure the Marquis is stuck-up, just as they have said he is,’ she told herself.
She was looking forward to the moment when she would see him. It was no use trusting Winnie to hand round the food as she was quite certain the girl would make a mess of it.
Therefore when she had finished cooking, she found another clean apron and put it on over her dress. It was good that it concealed the well-cut and quite expensive gown she was wearing.
Her father had always been very particular that she wore clothes which, as he said, ‘framed her beauty.’
“Far too many women,” Lord Hallam advised, “often think it is unnecessary to make the best of themselves when there is no one to see them or just the family.”
His eyes were very tender as he added,
“I want to admire you, my darling, every day we are together, just as much as if you were dressed for a ball at Buckingham Palace or a reception at Windsor Castle.”
Shana had smiled, but she knew exactly what he had meant.
She therefore always wore clothes which were elegant and becoming, although there was no one to see her but the flowers and the dogs.
She walked into the dining room after the men had seated themselves and she had no idea that one after another they were looking at her in astonishment.
She offered the dish of curried eggs first to the gentleman on the Marquis’s right and then to him.
She could not help giving him a quick glance as she did so.
Shana was surprised to find that he was far better looking than she had imagined he would be. His hair was thick and dark and he had a square forehead and his features were almost classical.
He was laughing at something someone had said to him and he looked young and carefree and not, as she had expected, aloof and fault-finding.
She went round the table.
Only when she had left the room did a guest sitting next to the Marquis say,
“That is the prettiest girl I have seen for a long time.
Are there many like her in this part of the world?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” the Marquis replied.
“She is certainly unusual,” another man chimed in. “I thought for a moment our host was playing a trick on us and she was a star from the theatre, dressed up as a maid to bewilder us.”
“I had not actually thought of anything so intriguing,” the Marquis said, “but I will keep it in mind for another time.”
They all laughed.
When Shana came back to collect the empty plates, there was almost a silence as she circled round the table. The steak and kidney pie was cooked to perfection.
One of the Marquis’s guests commented,
“You are very lucky, Kilbrooke, to find a pub that cooks as well as this. I had expected, when I was told luncheon was to be held here, that it would be sandwiches and cheese.”
“I would not insult you with anything so dull,” the Marquis responded. “But I do agree with you, the food is excellent and I shall certainly come here again.”
“It is very much more comfortable than sitting under a hedge,” one of the others said. “I had to do that last week and I can assure you even a big bag did not make up for the discomfort of it.”
They all began to talk about the shooting luncheons they had eaten in different parts of the country.
Then the cheese and the coffee were taken round.
When Shana offered the sugar and cream on a tray to the Marquis, he enquired,
“Have you been at the Rose and Crown for long?”
“Not very long, my Lord.”
“We have been very well served and I would like to thank the cook and tell her that both dishes were excellent.”
“I will convey your message to the kitchen, my Lord,” Shana said, leaving the dining room.
When she had gone one of the Marquis’s guests remarked,
“I think you should have spoken to the cook yourself. She might come in handy on occasions, one never knows.”
“I agree,” another joined in. “Good cooks are hard to find in the country and one never knows when one might need one.”
“Especially if they look like the young woman who waited on us,” one of the others said.
They laughed at this exchange.
Then Bob came in with the excellent port the Marquis had provided.
He took it round the table and when he had done so the Marquis said,
“We enjoyed your luncheon enormously, Grimes, and I would like to thank your cook before I leave.”
“I’m glad to hear your Lordship enjoyed yourself.”
“Now I think about it,” the Marquis added tentatively, “I believe you told me that your wife does the cooking.”
“Her does as a rule,” Bob answered. “But her had an accident this mornin’ and the doctor had to set her leg.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the Marquis replied. “But how were you so clever as to find someone so good to take her place?”
“I’ve been thanking Heaven for that meself, my Lord, and that’s the truth.”
He left the dining room without saying any more.
It was soon time for them to leave the Rose and Crown for the next drive and they rose from the table and started to find their way back to the stable yard.
The Marquis stopped at the kitchen door. It was ajar and he could hear voices inside.
He entered to see the girl who had waited on them standing at the kitchen table.
Shana was actually putting some left over food on a tray as she intended to carry it upstairs to Mrs. Grimes.
She had taken off her apron.
The Marquis thought the deep blue of her gown accentuated the translucence of her skin and the striking gold of her hair.
Shana looked at him.
Bob had been sitting on a chair and he scrambled to his feet.
“You’ll be leaving now, my Lord?”
“We are leaving,” the Marquis replied, “but I wanted, as I told you, to thank your cook for a most excellent luncheon.”
There was silence before he asked,
“Is it possible that you not only served the meal, but also cooked it for us?” He was addressing Shana, but before she could reply Bob piped up,
“I tells you, my Lord, me wife were laid up unexpected like this morning, but an angel comes down from Heaven and I be as grateful as you be for what you has just eaten.”
“And I am very grateful indeed. Thank you, I hope we can come here again and you will cook me another delicious meal.”
&
nbsp; Shana did not reply – she just smiled.
The Marquis turned and walked from the kitchen and as they heard him go out into the yard, Bob said,
“Us can’t ask for more than that can us Miss Shana? I be so grateful to you, I don’t know what to say.”
“You must say nothing,” Shana told him, “and tell Winnie she is not to talk or tell anyone in the village what has happened. It would be a great mistake for anyone to know what I have done and I am certain that my Papa would not like it talked about.”
She knew that where Bob was concerned that argument would be more effective than anything else.
“I promises you I’ll say nothing,” Bob assured her. “But if he comes here again he’ll be disappointed.”
“Nonsense,” Shana said. “Your wife is an excellent cook, as we all know. But if the story gets talked about in the County, his Lordship might find somewhere else for his guests to eat.”
She thought this idea ought to keep Bob quiet anyway as she climbed upstairs to take the food to his wife and she told Mrs. Grimes that no one was to know that she had cooked for the Marquis’s guests.
“I’ll see that Bob doesn’t talk, Miss Shana,” Mrs. Grimes said. “I knows if he thinks it’ll upset your Dad he’ll keep his mouth shut. His Lordship’s his hero and always has been.”
“I know that,” Shana said, “so just keep telling him Papa would be very angry if he thought I was laughed at for having helped you when you were in trouble.”
“You be kindness itself,” Miss Shana, “and I thanks you from the bottom of me ’eart.”
When Shana left she told Bob if there was anything he or his wife wanted, he was to send someone up to the house.
“I shall be alone now that Papa is abroad, so I can help you in any way I can. But I do hope Mrs. Grimes will be better tomorrow.”
*
When she retired to bed that night Shana felt it had all been quite an adventure and the story would certainly be something new to tell her father when he returned home.
She thought the Marquis, when she could see him clearly, was even better looking than she had thought at first. He was well over six feet tall and moved like a man who had complete control of his body.
Journey to love Page 2