Wilson came over to the table looking grim. “Who are you?” he said coldly. “I doubt whether Lady Wincroft has ever heard of your aunt, young man. I suggest you leave immediately. Mrs Macgregor has been far too kind in letting you remain here this long.”
“Please,” said Nat, “let me explain to Lady Wincroft why we’re here. I’m sure she would be interested. We have something important to ask her about Halston Hall. And, of course, I wish to pass on my aunt’s message.”
Wilson studied them closely. The boy was well-spoken—foreign. Wilson doubted they were gypsies. In any case, Sir Hugo was no fool and Lady Wincroft was likely to enjoy the diversion.
“Very well, then,” he said. “Follow me. Don’t speak until you’re spoken to.”
The butler led them across an expanse of lawn and instructed them to wait near the luncheon table while he explained their presence to Lady Wincroft. They watched as the family listened and glanced with curiosity towards where Nat and Norika stood waiting.
There were six at lunch—Sir Hugo and Lady Wincroft and, Nat guessed, their son and daughter. An older couple appeared to be the children’s grandparents. Nat remembered from the website that there were two sons, and he wondered where the other son was.
Wilson stepped back from the table and signalled them forward with a slight wave of his hand. They went and stood beside him in silence.
Lady Wincroft looked calmly at them. “Who is your aunt?” she said, speaking directly to Nat.
“The Marchioness of Slovakia,” Nat replied, “ma’am…Lady Wincroft.” He was about to continue when he saw Wilson frown and shake his head slightly.
Lady Wincroft looked at Nat for a long moment. Then she laughed. “And do I know her, the Marchioness?” she said.
This wasn’t working. Nat swallowed hard and decided he had to continue. “She sends her warm regards to you, Lady Wincroft. You may not remember her. Tall, a large lady? Of course it was some time ago when she knew you. On the stage, somewhere…” His voice trailed off.
Lady Wincroft was clearly amused. “On the stage, was it?” she said. She sat back in her chair and kept her eyes on Nat. “Of course. I remember your aunt well. Please give her my regards.” She signalled Wilson with a glance. “And now, you can both sit down and tell us the other reason you’re here. Wilson, arrange extra seating for our guests.”
When Wilson left, the boy seated at the table rose and offered his chair to Norika, who thanked him and took it graciously.
“How kind. Thank you,” she said, glancing at Nat as she sat down.
Nat could see she was enjoying herself. How kind? He gave her a look. Don’t push it.
Sir Hugo said, “You have us all interested. Who are you?”
Nat told him. “Your names sound foreign,” said the boy. He looked about fifteen. “I’m Edward and this is my sister Emmeline.”
So Frederick was the one absent, Nat thought.
Wilson and Maggie returned with two chairs, which they set at the table before going back to the house. Edward took one and Nat the other.
Lady Wincroft said, “Well, Nathaniel? Why are you here?”
Nat wanted to correct any wrong impression he had made. “Lady Wincroft,” he said, “I lied about my aunt. I don’t have an aunt. I didn’t intend to mislead you, but we needed to talk to you and I couldn’t think of any other way to gain your attention.”
She smiled at him. “Where are you from, Nathaniel?” she said, “You’re certainly not from England.”
“We’re from the south, a long way south,” Nat said, “Tasmania. We’re interested in Halston Hall”—another idea came to him—”and we were wondering if there was work available here over the weekend? Mrs Macgregor mentioned you were having house guests. We’re reliable and would work for our keep.”
Sir Hugo leaned forward. “For a young man from the colonies you have a way with words.” He looked at his wife questioningly.
“Indeed,” Lady Wincroft said. She turned towards the older woman. “What do you think, mother? Should we give our young visitors a chance? There is certainly a great deal of work to be done this weekend.”
“Oh, why not?” her mother said. She had an American accent. “Of course we should! We would all enjoy learning more about Tasmania.”
“Very well,” said Lady Wincroft. “Nathaniel, you can assist Albert, our gardener, in preparing the grounds for our guests. And Norika, you can help Mrs Macgregor in the kitchen. I’m sure she could do with an extra pair of hands.”
“Thank you, Lady Wincroft,” Norika said. “If Mrs Macgregor would like me to help with the dinner tonight, I can even prepare a different sort of dish to serve the guests—fusion style!”
Lady Wincroft smiled. “I think not. Mrs Macgregor has her menu planned. But you could ask her. She may well appreciate something different. Fusion style? How alarming that sounds!”
Nat glared at Norika. Couldn’t she just wash dishes?
It had occurred to him that with work to do, their movements around the estate would be restricted. They needed access to all areas if they were to find what they were looking for.
He cleared his throat. “We’ve read about the artworks and furnishings at Halston Hall. If someone would be our guide we’d appreciate seeing over the house sometime on the weekend.”
“I’ll be your guide!” said Emmeline, “I would enjoy that. Please let me be their guide, Mama!”
“Emmeline, calm yourself,” Lady Wincroft said. “Of course you can show Nathaniel and Norika around the house.” She rose from the table. “Our guests will be arriving soon. I will speak to Mrs Macgregor and to Albert regarding your work. Mrs Marsh, the housekeeper, will provide you with suitable clothing and show you the servants’ quarters.”
As they followed Emmeline back to the kitchen a car drove past them along the entrance drive and pulled up in front of the house. From a distance they saw the driver get out and walk up the steps, to be greeted by Wilson.
“That’s Frederick!” said Emmeline, “my brother. He’s up from London for the weekend. He doesn’t come home often.”
Mrs Marsh recovered quickly from her surprise when she learned it had been Lady Wincroft’s decision to employ the new help for the weekend. She accompanied them to the servants’ quarters, pointing out the service areas along the way. Nat wondered aloud why there were so many empty rooms.
Mrs Marsh sighed. “Sir Hugo and Lady Wincroft don’t entertain as often as they used to. And now he’s become a Member of Parliament we don’t see much of Sir Hugo at Halston Hall. Not so long ago we had the rooms full of servants. Not any more. Times are changing. Ladies are marching along the streets of London for the vote! I can’t possibly imagine why they’d need it.”
Nat left to join Albert in the grounds and Norika went to her room to change into the clothes Mrs Marsh had given her—a long cotton skirt and blouse and a crisp white apron. She couldn’t find her way back through the maze of corridors, and was relieved when cooking aromas led her in the right direction and she found Mrs Macgregor and Maggie working busily in the kitchen.
Mrs Macgregor looked at her with approval. “Very nice,” she said. “You’ve come up well.” She had been pleased to have the extra help and hoped Norika was up to the work of a busy kitchen. Maggie was slow and needed watching.
Norika’s duties, apart from chopping vegetables, were to help prepare hors d’oeuvres to be served to the guests before the main course. Mrs Macgregor had already prepared a selection of croutons topped with smoked salmon, sautéed shrimp and caviar, and Maggie had been given full instructions in arranging these on silver platters, to be placed by the footmen on sideboards in the dining room.
The guests were to dine at eight. By the time Norika and Maggie had added the final garnishes to the platters and loaded them onto a large trolley it was six o’clock. Maggie started to push the trolley across the kitchen when she suddenly lost her footing on the uneven stone floor, stumbled an
d fell spectacularly. The trolley careered wildly out of control, ran into a table and toppled over, spilling its contents across the floor, the platters making a loud clatter as they fell and bounced off the stone slabs.
Mrs Macgregor stifled a scream of horror. Norika ran to Maggie. The girl was moaning in pain and holding her ankle, which Norika guessed was badly sprained. The hors d’oeuvres were scattered across the kitchen, ruined.
“Quickly,” Norika said to Mrs Macgregor. “I think she’ll be all right but we’ll need help in getting her to her room. She needs treatment to stop the swelling. A towel wrung out in cold water should do it.”
Mrs Macgregor hurried out the door to fetch Mr Wilson and to inform Lady Wincroft of the accident. She hoped Lady Wincroft might delay the dinner a half hour or so. What a disaster! To happen today, with everyone here!
By the time they got Maggie to her room and settled in her bed, there was an hour and a half to dinner. Norika returned to the kitchen to find the cook in an agitated state. She took her by the arm and sat her down.
“Mrs Macgregor, I can help you. We’ll make the best of it together. I’ll prepare the hors d’oeuvres while you keep an eye on the mutton joint and the roast duck. The potatoes can be put in the oven.” She squeezed the cook’s hand. “If the guests have the first course on time, everything will be fine. Do you have any rice?”
Mrs Macgregor had never had things go so badly wrong before, not in all her years as a cook. At least she had Norika to help her. “The rice is in the larder. I’ll get it for you,” she said. “Do you think we can manage it?” She was thinking Norika seemed capable, if a bit forthright for Mrs Macgregor’s taste.
“Of course,” said Norika, not feeling at all sure. “It’s a challenge!”
They set to work. Norika put the rice on to boil and checked the ingredients available from the larder. She frowned in dismay. She would have to improvise.
While Mrs Macgregor worked on the main course, Norika made two large thin omelettes which she cut into wide strips. She sliced some smoked salmon and cold cooked chicken and blanched some spinach in a pot. She steamed a large quantity of small cabbage leaves from the garden, pounded and flattened them on the table and cut each into a square. Then she cleared a long bench and covered it with the squares, now softened and pliable.
When the rice had cooked she added white vinegar mixed with a little sugar and some seasoning she’d found in the larder. She spread a layer of the sticky rice over the cabbage leaf squares and pressed it down. She mixed Mrs Macgregor’s mayonnaise with horseradish and spread it thinly in a wide band across the rice, followed by alternate layers of sliced fish, chicken meat and omelette topped with the drained and chopped spinach.
Pausing to ready herself, she carefully began to roll up each square around its filling as tightly as she could, pressing the finished roll firmly to secure it.
Time was running out. Mrs Macgregor glanced anxiously at Norika. What on earth was the girl doing, rolling up cabbage leaves with rice and omelette in them?
Norika sliced the rolls into small rounds with a sharp knife and arranged the rounds on clean platters with dipping bowls of diluted Worcestershire Sauce. She’d found a bottle in the larder and choked as she tasted it, but she supposed it was better than nothing. She placed sprigs of parsley on the platters as a final flourish and stepped back to look at her work. Not MasterChef standard, but it would have to do.
She turned and smiled reassuringly at Mrs Macgregor. “I’ll load the trolley and take it up myself.” It was five minutes to eight.
“Don’t enter the dining room,” said Mrs Macgregor, “give it to the footmen.”
The guests were seated and the wine poured when Norika stood outside the door of the dining room, passing the platters to the footmen. She caught her breath at the splendour of the setting—the long table, the silver, the glint of crystal from the massive chandelier and the glassware, the footmen standing ready. She’d have liked to linger, taking it all in, but there was no time.
In a low voice she briefed the footmen on serving the dish to the guests, but despite their objections she insisted on serving Lady Wincroft herself.
The guests looked with surprise and interest as the first course was placed in front of them. Lady Wincroft, aware of the effort involved, smiled at Norika, who whispered a few words in her ear as she served her.
One of the guests said with a laugh, “Well, Lady Wincroft, what is this strange dish we’re about to enjoy called?”
“It is called sushi,” said Lady Wincroft, delicately lifting one of the rounds to her mouth. “In the absence of chopsticks I’m told we may use forks, or indeed even our fingers! A style of cooking known as fusion, I believe. Very advanced.”
“And very exotic, mother,” said a young man Norika guessed to be Frederick. “Delicious. Congratulations to the cook.” He glanced at Norika, who flushed with pleasure.
By the end of the meal the guests had acknowledged the first course as the most unusual and delightful dish any of them had experienced. Norika could hardly wait until morning to tell Nat about her success. After helping Mrs Macgregor clean up she went to her room late, tired but satisfied. Tomorrow, she thought, they would need to find what they came here to find. But tonight she could sleep well.
* * *
In the morning Norika rose early, and went first to Maggie’s room to see how the girl was recovering. The swelling on her ankle had subsided, but she was unable to work and would be laid up for several days. Mrs Macgregor had found another girl from the village to help out, Maggie told Norika, and Maggie was glad of the rest. They didn’t have enough servants these days, she said, to get everything done.
Norika checked outside for Nat and found him clipping hedges with Albert. The guests were gathering on the lawn for an early morning shooting party and Emmeline was near the summerhouse, watching their preparations. Norika hoped Emmeline would remember to show them around the house while the guests were out.
Mrs Macgregor was full of good humour when Norika entered the kitchen. “My dear,” she said, “what a triumph! Two of the ladies have already been down to ask me about your sushi. I didn’t know what to tell them.”
“I’ll write out the recipe for you before I leave,” said Norika. “You may have to order in some ingredients. Soy sauce. Can you get that? And dried seaweed?”
Mrs Macgregor looked blank. Then she chuckled and patted Norika’s hand. “Goodness me, I thought you were serious! Seaweed, indeed!”
Norika smiled. “Don’t worry about it, then,” she said. “Just make do.”
“Make do! It was wonderful as it was!” Mrs Macgregor gave her a hug. “Emmeline tells me she has offered to show you around the house this morning. Off you go, then!”
As Norika left the kitchen she almost ran into Frederick. “Ah, Norika,” he said, “I believe we have you to thank for the sushi. Very good sushi it was too—if a little experimental.”
“Have you eaten sushi before?” Norika asked in surprise.
“Last year, in Japan,” Frederick replied, stepping aside to let her pass. “I went there with a friend.”
He turned as Mrs Macgregor bustled forward to greet him. “A fine dinner, Mrs Macgregor. Congratulations. I’m off to join my father and his guests—we hope to bag a few pheasants for your kitchen.”
Most of the guests had departed the house by the time Norika met up with Nat and Emmeline in the morning room.
Nat had heard all about the dinner from Albert. “He said Mrs Macgregor couldn’t stop talking about it,” Nat said, grinning. “What’s your next meal? Pizza?”
Norika gave him a look.
Nat laughed. He’d slept soundly and was in a good mood. Hard work in the grounds suited him, he thought.
“What’s pizza?” Emmeline asked.
“A kind of pie,” said Norika. “Where do we start our tour?”
“In the entry hall,” said Emmeline. “There’s lots of paintings and a large m
irror on the wall and a side table with vases, and an old grandfather clock.”
‘What about other furniture?” said Nat. “We’re looking for something we saw in a diagram—an armchair with a fabric seat.”
“There are two matching armchairs in the drawing room, in front of the fireplace,” said Emmeline, “although they’re not very comfortable. Hardly anyone sits in them.”
“Are there miniature versions?” said Norika. “Like in a dolls house.”
Emmeline jumped up from her chair. “The dolls house is in the nursery upstairs,” she said. “I’ll take you there.”
They both turned to look at her. “The dolls house is here?” Nat said.
Emmeline looked surprised. “Of course it’s here,” she said, “Papa had it made especially for my eighth birthday two years ago.”
They exchanged glances. Norika said, “Let’s go.”
The nursery was at the end of an upstairs corridor, musty and dark. Emmeline drew back the window drapes and opened the front window.
The dolls house was placed to the side of the room with space around it for easy access to the interior. Even in the soft morning light they recognised it as the one from the website, the outside painted to resemble the brickwork and half-timbered gables of Halston Hall.
Emmeline opened its hinged façade to reveal the front rooms on both levels. The interiors were replicas of the real rooms, even to the paintings on the walls. She undid a latch at the rear and the back wall swung open. Light from a side window fell on the timber panelling of the miniature drawing room and on one of the two chairs positioned on either side of the fireplace—the chair from the diagram.
Nat carefully picked up the chair and ran his hand over it to check for the map, thinking it might be sewn under the fabric or hidden under the frame.
There was a sound at the door. Startled, they all looked up.
Akropolis Page 12