by Linda Finlay
Cream golden butter with the richest of sugars ye possess.
Raise arm and sift ye flours from yon highest place.
Beat in freshest eggs and apples finely smashest.
Take crimson-coloured aril, the … ou … lace,
A pinch will be sufficient to add the secret …
A sprinkling of su …
Thus will complement the wassa …
Your good health …
‘Blimey, half the words are worn away. We won’t have good health if we don’t discover what the secret ingredient is,’ Rose moaned, putting her head in her hands. ‘Maybe if we make a trial batch of apple cakes we can work out what this crimson-coloured aril thingy is.’
Eliza looked at Rose sceptically.
‘Well, we’ve got to try something, haven’t we?’ Rose muttered, getting to her feet as Joshua’s shrill cry rent the air.
Eliza sat staring at the ingredients. Obviously, these would make little apple sponge-like cakes but what could the special ingredient be? She was just reading through Rose’s notes when the door opened and Ben put his head around it.
‘I suppose you’ve come for more refreshments,’ she said, reaching for the empty mugs he was holding.
‘I see you’ve made a start on the apple cakes,’ he said.
‘Hmm, just going through the ingredients,’ she said. Then she had a thought. ‘When will you be making this wassail cup?’
‘It will probably be tomorrow now. We’ve got to see to the animals first. I’m a bit behind, what with Rose and the baby. Luckily, Duncan insisted on helping and I’m mighty grateful. Don’t worry,’ he said, mistaking Eliza’s crestfallen look. ‘We won’t be too busy to sample the apple cakes when they’re cooked. Have to make sure they taste right, haven’t we?’
‘What do they taste like, Ben? I’ve never eaten one,’ she added quickly as he gave her a strange look.
‘Of course you haven’t. Well, they’re sweet, spicy, and of course the sugar coating makes them crunchy,’ he added, disappearing outside again.
Eliza returned to the notes. A sprinkling of su … so that would be a sprinkling of sugar on the top then, she thought, carefully completing the sentence. One step at a time, Eliza. Unbidden, Grampy’s saying popped into her head and she sighed. If only she could work out what the other missing words were. She went back over the receipt. Perhaps if she looked in the pantry she’d find some of this crimson-coloured aril. It would be better than sitting here waiting for Rose to return.
Although she searched the shelves, she could find no trace of anything called aril, or anything crimson. And as for that lace, you wouldn’t put material into a cake mixture, surely? She returned to her chair and was pondering the puzzle when Duncan reappeared. Immediately the room seemed brighter and Eliza felt her spirits rise.
‘Finished what I was doing so Ben thought it would be a good idea if I began gathering together the things for the wassail cup. You look pale, little un. Not been overdoing things, have you?’
‘We’re trying to making a start on those apple cakes but some of the words have faded. Do you know what the secret Ashcombe ingredient is?’ she asked.
‘Not exactly,’ he said. ‘You have been thrown in at the deep end, haven’t you?’
9
‘Without the complete receipt you won’t be able to make those cakes, will you?’ Eliza shook her head and he sighed. ‘Can I help?’
‘Do you know what crimson-coloured aril is?’ she burst out.
‘As it happens, I do.’
Hope flared in her heart. ‘And is that what you put in the Ashcombe wassail cup?’
‘Crimson aril is the lacy covering of nutmeg, young un. When it’s dried it turns yellow or tan.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ she cried, taking the paper from him. ‘But that can’t be right,’ she said, her heart sinking. ‘Nutmeg has six letters and there’s room for only four on the receipt, look,’ she said, stabbing at the notes with her finger.
‘Dear, dear, young un, mace is the word you need. It’s what the outer covering of the nutmeg is called.’
‘Oh. So you put this mace into both the apple cakes and the wassail cup?’
‘No, mace, the outer covering of the nutmeg, is what the Ashleys use for their apple cakes. The nutmeg itself they put into the wassail cup. They have very similar, yet not quite the same, tastes, which complement each other perfectly. Clever, eh?’
As he smiled gently at her across the table, Eliza felt herself going warm. He made her feel loved like Grampy used to. Yet like those two spices, mace and nutmeg, not in quite the same way. While she was musing he disappeared into the pantry, reappearing with what looked like two dark, oval conkers, which rattled together when he shook them. In his other hand he held some bark-like strips.
‘I’ll be back shortly to complete your spice lesson,’ he said grinning. Eliza went back to Rose’s notes but was none the wiser when Duncan returned holding out two jars.
‘I’ve ground the spices and, as you can see, this nutmeg is darker than the mace here. Now what can you smell? Careful, they are quite pungent.’ He held first one and then the other jar under her nose. She inhaled.
‘Hmm, they are lovely. Warm and very spicy but this one is sweeter, isn’t it?’ she said, pointing to the nutmeg.
‘Well done, little un. You have a very good nose. The mace here is more refined and slightly bitter. Hence you put mace in the cakes and save the nutmeg for the wassail cup. Well, for the Ashcombe receipts, anyway.’
As Rose came into the kitchen Duncan jumped to his feet, snatching up the jar of nutmeg.
‘I’ll leave you to it. I know you’ll be itching to get on with your baking now,’ he said, winking at Eliza.
As the door shut behind him, Rose arched an eyebrow.
‘Good news,’ Eliza said excitedly. ‘We’ve found the secret ingredient.’ She held up the jar of mace. Rose clapped her hands in delight. ‘But that’s not all. I discovered we need to sprinkle sugar on the tops to ensure a crispy coating.’
‘Thank the Lord,’ Rose muttered. ‘Right, let’s get mixing these wretched cakes.’
While Eliza peeled and smashed the apples, Rose mixed the dry ingredients together.
‘Hey, go easy,’ Eliza cautioned, as the other woman went to tip in the mace. ‘Duncan says that’s pungent and the receipt does say a pinch.’
‘Surely that won’t be enough,’ Rose scoffed. ‘There’s loads of cake mixture.’
‘Yes, but smell the spice. It’s very strong,’ Eliza pointed out. ‘Look, this is a sample batch so let’s use a pinch and if these aren’t spicy enough we can add more when we bake tomorrow.’
Once the cakes were cooking in the range, they made tea and collapsed onto the chairs to recover. Before long, the kitchen was suffused with the aroma of spices.
‘Well, they smell all right, don’t they?’ Rose observed, topping up their mugs.
‘Yes, and they smell ready, too,’ Eliza said, getting to her feet.
‘But they’ve not been in long enough yet,’ Rose said, frowning at the ormolu clock on the dresser. ‘My mother gave us that expensive clock for our wedding present. It came from the very best clockmaker in London and is accurate to the second.’
‘Yes, and it’s quite lovely,’ Eliza said, crossing her fingers beneath her apron. ‘But all ranges have different temperatures. You have to trust your nose, not the time.’ Privately she thought the ornate timepiece looked out of place in the cosy room.
&
nbsp; ‘All right, it won’t do any harm if we have a look,’ agreed Rose.
Eliza bent down and opened the range door. Carefully she took out the cakes and placed the tray onto the table. ‘These are ready, see.’
‘Goodness, so they are,’ Rose exclaimed, looking up as she heard the latch click. Ben popped his head around the door.
‘Something smells good,’ he said.
‘Oh, Ben,’ she gushed, throwing herself into his arms, ‘come in and try one of our apple cakes.’
‘Is that invitation extended to me?’ Duncan asked, following in behind. As they stood sampling the cakes, Rose and Eliza exchanged anxious glances.
‘Delicious. The best I’ve ever tasted and with just the right amount of spice, too,’ Ben said, putting his arm around his wife and drawing her close. ‘What a clever girl you are,’ he murmured. As Rose flushed with pleasure, Duncan winked at Eliza. It seemed good relations had been restored.
‘By the way, Tinks called by with a message from your mother. She simply cannot wait any longer to see her grandson. The weather down the valley has cleared sufficiently for her to make the journey so she’ll be arriving after luncheon tomorrow.’
‘Oh, no,’ Rose groaned.
‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’ Ben asked. ‘She’ll be able to do her first spot of babysitting whilst we host the festivities. Come on, Duncan, no peace for the wicked,’ he said, kissing Rose’s cheek.
As the door shut behind them, Rose grimaced.
‘Now I’ll have to make sure everywhere is spick and span. Mother can spot a dust mote from a hundred paces. Still, as Ben says, it does mean I can join in the wassailing.’
Eliza smiled but she was wondering what was going to happen to her. Rose’s mother would expect to sleep in the room she was using, wouldn’t she?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Joshua’s whimpering. While Rose hurried to attend to him, Eliza set about clearing up the kitchen. At the least the apple cakes had turned out successfully. Now they knew how to make them, it wouldn’t take long to knock up sufficient for the festivities.
‘Come on, Eliza, let’s see what we can find for you to wear for the celebrations.’ She was roused from her reverie by Rose calling to her from the doorway. Eliza followed her up the stairs and into a bedroom with dainty yellow sprigged curtains at the window and a matching coverlet on the bed.
Rose rummaged in a chest, then tossed two dark red flannel petticoats onto the bed. ‘Didn’t you say you only had a thin dress with you?’ Eliza nodded. ‘Well, these should go nicely underneath and add an extra layer. I imagine it’s freezing higher up the moors.’
‘It is, but don’t you want them?’ Eliza asked, running her hand over the warm material.
‘Not now I’m a married woman,’ Rose giggled. ‘Right then, let’s see what else is in here. Ah, yes.’ Rose drew out a leaf-green cape, edged with emerald velvet, followed by a gown in corded dimity. Then a cotton lawn petticoat trimmed with broderie anglaise joined the pile. Rose dangled a stomacher in front of her, grimacing. ‘Mother will make me wear this, I know she will, and no doubt she’ll have me tightly laced in stays, too.’ She pouted down at her post-baby figure. ‘One mustn’t let oneself go, Rosaline,’ she parroted in a hoity-toity voice.
Eliza giggled. ‘I didn’t know your name was Rosaline.’
Rose sighed. ‘Rosaline Evangaline Josaphine Madaleine, to be precise. Mouthful or what? What’s your full name?’
‘I don’t have any fancy middle names. Nor do my sisters Hester and Isabel,’ she said.
‘Oh, you have sisters?’
Eliza nodded, feeling a sudden pang. ‘Don’t you?’ she asked.
Rose shook her head. ‘No, I’m an only child. Obviously one time of “it” was enough for Mother,’ she said. As Eliza eyed her curiously she giggled. ‘I shall definitely be having lots more children, in case you’re wondering.’
Not knowing what to say, Eliza stared down at the clothes on the bed.
‘Here, Eliza Dryad, these are for you,’ Rose said, scooping them up and handing them to her.
‘I can’t take them all,’ Eliza protested.
‘Well, they won’t fit me for a while and if I don’t have anything suitable to wear, Mother will take pity on me and insist on treating me to some new outfits,’ Rose said shamelessly. ‘Besides, you’ll need to dress up for the Wassail tomorrow night and that cape will bring out the colour of your eyes.’
Eliza ran her fingers over the soft nap of the velvet trim. ‘I’ve never worn anything so beautiful,’ she sighed.
Next morning, the farmhouse was a frenzy of activity, but by lunchtime the cakes, wassail cup and slices of toasted bread were laid out on the scrubbed kitchen table ready for the evening’s festivities. While Rose fed the baby, Eliza put clean linen on the bed. She looked around the room she’d been using and sighed. The apple-green curtains and matching coverlet gave it a cosy feel whilst the wool rug was bliss to step onto first thing in the morning. Resolutely, she tied her things into a bundle, donned the gown Rose had given her and brushed her hair until it crackled with electricity.
‘Oh, you look really pretty. That dress suits you,’ Rose said, appearing in the doorway. She was wearing a satin gown in soft claret, which made her gentian eyes look bluer than ever. ‘You can leave your things in the cupboard by the kitchen. Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping by the range tonight? I don’t like asking you to move but Mother will expect to sleep in here. The rooms down the old hallway haven’t been used in ages and need a good airing.’
Eliza smiled, and gave a final look around the room she’d spent the two most comfortable nights of her life in.
‘It’s been kind of you to let me use it,’ she said, her gaze coming to rest on a miniature painting of a gentian.
‘Phooey. I don’t know how I’d have managed without your help, Eliza. Fay painted that for our wedding present,’ Rose said, noticing her interest. ‘She wouldn’t come to the ceremony herself but insisted on giving us something for our home.’
‘It’s exquisite,’ Eliza whispered.
‘I think it’s amazing that a woman who can heft hay bales and shear sheep should have such a delicate touch,’ Rose said. She looked as though she was going to say something else but was distracted by the sound of voices.
‘You can put my luggage in my room, Benjamin.’
‘Certainly, Mother Evangaline,’ Ben answered.
Eliza stared at Rose in surprise.
‘Just Ben’s little joke,’ Rose whispered.
‘Then I simply must see my grandson,’ the strident voice rang down the hallway. ‘And where is Rosaline?’
Rose stared at Eliza in dismay. ‘Why do I always feel like a child as soon as I hear her?’ she whispered, smoothing down her skirts. ‘Please come with me for moral support.’
With a last look around the room, Eliza hurried after her. A woman of middle years, fair hair swept up in a coronet and wearing a grey day dress, stood waiting impatiently in the parlour.
‘Mother, how lovely to see you,’ Rose said, kissing the woman’s cheek. ‘May I introduce Eliza Dryad. She has been helping me until you could get here.’
The woman accepted her daughter’s kiss, then lifted her lorgnette. She had eyes the same gentian as Rose but her gaze, as it swept over Eliza, was hard and assessing.
‘I didn’t know you’d engaged the services of a nanny?’ she said finally.
Rose raised her eyebrows at Eliza behind the woman’s back. ‘I haven’t, Mother. Eliza is a friend.’
‘Dryad, you say? I can’t say I’ve ever heard that of name. You’re not from around these parts, then?’
Eliza shook her head.
‘Eliza is a friend of Duncan’s.’
The woman sniffed dismissively. ‘Well, I’m sure you have plenty to do, Miss Dryad. Now, Rose, you must take me to the nursery. I simply cannot wait a moment longer to see my grandson.’
As Rose led her mother up the stairs, Eliza shook her head. What a pompous woman, and clearly she’d found Eliza wanting. Ben, who had stayed out of the way until the coast was clear, suddenly appeared.
‘Don’t worry about Mother Evangaline. She has ideas far above her station,’ he said, giving a rueful grin. They heard the woman cooing, followed by an angry wail. ‘Babies are wondrous levellers, aren’t they?’ he grinned. ‘Fancy a brew before the festivities? With any luck we’ve time to drink it in the kitchen before Mother E comes back. She insists we use the parlour. Only one’s staff partake of refreshment in the kitchen, Benjamin,’ he parroted in that hoity-toity voice Rose had affected earlier. ‘Of course, that’d be fine if one had staff.’
Despite herself, Eliza burst out laughing. Retrieving her bundle and cloak, she followed Ben into the kitchen.
‘Does that mean Rose’s mother doesn’t come in here?’ she asked, thinking of the bed she intended making up beside the range.
‘Only to inspect things,’ Ben said. ‘Luckily for me, she’s an insomniac and mainly roams at night then sleeps in during the day. Though Joshua might put paid to that, of course.’
Eliza stared at the range in dismay. She wouldn’t be able to sleep here now, would she?
10
Before she had time to say anything, the door opened and Duncan appeared. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw her.
‘I was looking for the little un but it seems I’m in the wrong place. Who is this beautiful young lady, pray?’ he asked, turning to Ben.
‘Don’t know but if I weren’t a married man, I’d be begging to escort her to the festivities myself,’ Ben replied, winking at her. Eliza giggled.