“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” Reginald lifted his flute of champagne and took a sip. “I can’t tell you how happy this makes me, Sebastian. I hate to see you always alone, without feminine companionship.”
Eleven
James Lionel Falconer was now seventeen and a striking young man, not only because of his chiseled good looks, fair complexion, and deep blue eyes, but because of his height. He was just under six feet. None of the other Falconers was as tall.
Aside from these physical assets, he was naturally charming, had a congenial nature, and was also thoughtful to others, and kind. He owed these latter traits to his grandmother, Esther, who had taught him a lot of things when he was young. She had made sure he had excellent manners and behaved with politeness and decorum at all times. And to everyone, whoever the person was.
As she looked across the kitchen at him, Esther felt a swell of pride. There was no one quite like James, that she knew of anyway, and that included the children of her employers, Lady Agatha and the Honorable Mister, as her husband called Arthur Montague. To Esther, her grandson was quite unique, but then they had given him the best of everything to ensure that he could follow his dream and stay with his plan. James was as ambitious and driven as ever, and looked to the future with great hope. Esther did not worry. He was going places. It had been ordained.
As if he was aware she was staring at him, James swung his head and smiled at her. “Uncle Harry’s doing very well here, Grans. He’s the best chef around.”
“I know that,” Esther answered, laughter in her voice. “I taught him, you know.”
Harry said, “That’s why I will be forever grateful to you, Ma. For putting me on the right track when I was a little boy. And one day I’ll have my own restaurant, you’ll see.”
“You’re not doing so badly now, Harry,” Esther pointed out. “You have a very nice little café in Marylebone, and it’s been successful ever since you started making snacks to go with the coffee.”
Harry nodded. “It’s still really only a coffee shop though, not really a café even.”
“The right time will come,” Esther said. She looked down at the fine cotton shirt she was making for James, and plied her needle once more.
Rossi, now fifteen, was sitting beside her, doing exactly the same thing. She said, “I agree with Grandma. I know we’ll enjoy the supper tonight. Everything smells delicious, Uncle Harry.”
He waved the wooden spoon in the air, laughing. He was intent on a pot on the range. “Thanks, Rossi,” he answered without turning his head, concentrating on the food on the stove, stirring the pot.
Harry, with James as helper, was preparing supper at his brother Matt’s house in Camden. It had become a ritual in the summer … Saturday night supper for the entire family cooked by Harry.
July, August, and September were the months that Lady Agatha, her husband, and her two younger children were on their annual sojourn in France, and sometimes Italy. Their absence meant that Philip and Esther were free to join their own family at times.
It was looked upon as a special family affair; the supper gave them a chance to catch up on things and enjoy each other’s company. George, the middle brother, usually arrived a bit late; he was working on a newspaper these days and often had to do Saturday duty. But he always made it in time for the second course.
After looking in the oven, peering at the leg of lamb, basting it, Harry asked James to start making the mint sauce. “And mind you chop the mint very fine,” he added, glancing at his nephew. “Then you can start preparing the base for the gravy, please. The ingredients are next to that basin over there.”
A moment later Maude walked into the kitchen, thinking how welcoming it looked with the fire blazing up the chimney, but the light in general was a bit dim.
She had gone upstairs to change and had put on what she called “my best dress,” which she had made herself. The color was unusual, a deep lilac that was almost mauve. Tailored and stylish, it fell to her ankles and had long sleeves. A cream lace shawl-style collar and cuffs gave the silk dress a certain elegance.
Maude had swept her glossy hair up in a twist, and on the crown a pile of curls was held in place by tortoiseshell combs. Her wedding ring was her only piece of jewelry.
Esther nodded in approval, and exclaimed, “Maude, here you are at last, and it was well worth the wait. You do look lovely, my dear.”
“Thank you,” Maude said, moving gracefully into the large kitchen. She headed for a chest of drawers, took out a box of Swan Vestas matches, and went to the gas lamps on the walls. These she immediately lighted, one after the other.
“That’s better. I can now see you all,” she announced. The kitchen had instantly taken on a rosy glow as the lamps flickered brightly.
“It was growing dim in here,” Harry told her. “Come and see my leg of lamb. Gorgeous, ain’t it?”
Maude joined him, looked into the oven, and agreed with him that she had never seen one better.
For once Esther ignored Harry’s use of slang; she had been correcting his speech for years, often to no avail, and had now given up. She was more concerned about his life in general. He was already thirty-one, and there was no sign of a woman in his life. She wished he would meet someone, start courting, and eventually marry. She wanted her two other sons to be settled, and the sooner the better. As for George, who was thirty-three, he seemed to be married to his newspaper.
There’s nothing I can do about any of it, Esther thought, a sigh escaping. She stuck the needle into the fine cotton shirt carefully, folded it neatly, and then put it in a linen bag at her feet. Standing, she took the bag into the parlor across the hall. Observing her grandmother, Rossi did the same, and followed her.
“We had better light the gas lamps,” Rossi said as she entered the small sitting room. “It’s gloomy in here.”
“Yes, I’ll do that,” Esther answered, and found the matches. Instantly the parlor looked more welcoming with the gaslights burning, and the two of them returned to the kitchen.
Rossi made for a cupboard, took out two white tablecloths, and her mother helped her to spread them on the long oak table. Once they were in place, Rossi, Maude, and Esther went to the china cupboard and began to take out plates and dishes. Within a short time, they had set ten places at the table, added glasses and cutlery. They put six candlesticks down the middle of the table, and added the white candles.
“Ten of us again?” Esther murmured, turning to Rossi.
“Yes. Denny Holden will be arriving shortly. You see, he just loves our suppers. He says he has never seen anything like them, or tasted such delicious food. He’s from a small family, Grandma, and I know he loves to be amongst boisterous us. Anyway, he and James have been close friends for years, working together on the stalls.”
Maude said, “There’s not a boy I know who’s nicer than Denny in these parts. It cheers him up to join us. His mother’s a bit poorly at the moment.”
Esther nodded. “I like Denny. He’s very polite and … well … rather reserved. In any case, it’s always rewarding to do someone a good turn. I like his father. Jack’s a decent man.”
Almost on cue, there was a knock on the door. Rossi ran to open it, to find Denny standing on the doorstep. She gave him a quick once-over and smiled inwardly. He had undoubtedly made a huge effort to dress appropriately and was wearing a dark suit, a white shirt, and a tie. The suit looked stylish, of the moment.
“You look very smart,” she whispered as she drew him into the house.
“It’s a new suit,” he whispered back. “Pa bought it for me at one of those shops which sells suits put together like this. I think they’re called ready-made.”
When they walked into the kitchen together James waved, then hurried over to Denny, greeted him warmly. For his part, Denny said hello to everyone, and James announced, “It’s getting a bit crowded in here, and Uncle Harry does need to concentrate on the food. Let’s go into the parlor.” They all agreed, a
nd James led the way.
As they were settling down in the chairs and on the sofa, Eddie came running in, a happy smile on his face. He was followed by Philip, who was also smiling.
Rushing over to Maude, Eddie said, “Grandpapa mended my easel, Mum. It works again. I can paint tomorrow!”
“I knew he could fix it for you, Eddie.”
Eddie, who was now twelve, leaned against the arm of the chair, and looked up at his mother, his happiness reflected on his young face. He was never far from her side.
Philip took a seat on the sofa next to his wife and said, “I only needed a screwdriver. A few of the screws had come loose.”
Esther nodded. “I’m happy it was easy. Eddie is quite talented, you know, good at drawing. He’s given me several of his paintings.”
Rossi, as always, jumped up first when she heard the knocking on the front door. “Uncle George has arrived!” she exclaimed, and she was correct. George stood there holding bunches of flowers in his arms, and grinning at her.
“Oh my goodness!” Rossi cried, staring at the profusion of flowers as she took him into the parlor. George handed a posy to Rossi, Maude, and his mother. The three of them thanked him, and after greeting them all, he said, “I’ll just go and see my brother the chef.” James went with him.
Whilst George was talking to Harry, James went back to his small duties as his uncle’s helper. He had finished the mint sauce, had remembered to add the sugar to it. The base for the gravy was almost ready to go into the meat pan, once the leg of lamb came out.
James was slicing the loaf of bread when the sound of a key in the door told him that his father had arrived home from the Malvern. Now the entire family was here, and soon the supper would commence.
* * *
When Esther and Maude led the others into the kitchen to start supper, they both glanced at each other and smiled. Now they knew why Rossi had suddenly disappeared, after taking George’s flowers from them. These were now arranged in small vases down the table. Cruets of salt, pepper, and sauces had been put here and there, white napkins were at each place, and two bottles of Pomerol red wine had been uncorked and stood on the chest in order to breathe.
“You did a lovely job,” Maude said, smiling at her fifteen-year-old daughter.
“Thank you, Mum, but it was James who helped me, and then he opened the red wine, as per Grandpapa’s instructions earlier.”
“Certainly the table looks perfect, and the smells coming from the range are mouthwatering,” Esther remarked as she sat down, thinking that Harry had probably outdone himself tonight.
Within a few seconds a stack of soup dishes stood next to Maude’s place where she sat at one end of the table; suddenly Harry was there, carrying a huge tureen, followed by James with a ladle. Harry placed the tureen on the other side of Maude.
“Please serve the soup, Maude,” Harry said, and took an empty soup dish from the pile, put it in front of her. He picked it up when the soup was in the dish and took it away. Then it was James’s turn to serve a bowl of soup, then Matt, and so on, until everyone had a bowl and was dipping into their mulligatawny soup, declaring it delicious.
Empty dishes were whisked away, and the next course was ready to be served. Thinly sliced leg of lamb, Yorkshire puddings, roasted potatoes, and cauliflower was the first course. It was Harry who put four gravy boats on the table, two at each end, and also glass dishes of mint sauce. Matt carved the huge roast lamb, which had been put in front of him. James and George helped by carrying covered tureens of vegetables to the table, along with the huge platter holding ten individual Yorkshire puddings. And Denny, who had wanted to help, had been assigned the task of walking around the table offering sliced bread to the diners.
Matt served the meat on plates in the same way Maude had ladled out the soup, and everyone helped themselves to the vegetables on the table, once the lids had been swiftly removed by James, Harry, and George.
Serving supper in this style was known as “à la française” and was the easiest and fastest way of getting food to ten people whilst it was still hot. Esther and Philip had always used this style for that reason.
Once a full plate sat in front of every person, James and his grandfather went around the table pouring the Pomerol, but Rossi and Eddie were only allowed a thimbleful in a glass of water.
Everyone enjoyed the food and being together, and there was much laughter and jokes as well as serious talk between George, Matt, and their father about current politics. And George’s Fleet Street gossip about former prime ministers such as Disraeli and Gladstone was entertaining. But it was Rossi who surprised them all when she announced, “I like Salisbury best,” referring to the present prime minister.
This comment led to more discussion, but soon amusing stories about the latest actresses on the London stage and other celebrities took over because it was more colorful than politics.
After chatting for a while and then clearing the dishes, Harry, George, and James brought out clean plates. Harry presented the family with their favorite dessert. His very special plum pudding with Mr. Bird’s “magic custard,” as he called it.
* * *
After supper they had relaxed for a while, drinking tea and continuing to chat, until Esther announced she and Philip had to leave. They were extremely conscientious and never stayed away from the Montague home near Regent’s Park for too long. They were in charge when the family was in France for the summer, and did not wish to neglect their duties. Philip considered them to be the custodians of the Honorable Mister’s property.
His uncle George was staying the night with them, as he often did since Sunday was his day off from the paper. James knew George enjoyed this break and the chance to spend time with Philip, and especially Esther, who spoiled him.
He and Denny had decided to go along for the walk, after Harry had invited them to come to his café for coffee and cakes.
They had been intending to spend the rest of the evening at Tango Rose, a bar just off the Strand. But the three-mile walk from Camden to the bar seemed such a long walk all of a sudden. So James had accepted his uncle’s invitation. Denny was disappointed because he liked one of the barmaids, but James was now relieved, wanted to avoid the place. Harry had told him earlier that Tango Rose was full of bad people, and they should stay away, must never go back.
James shivered slightly as they walked along. Even though it was the end of July, it had turned cool, and the thought of a hot cup of coffee was most appealing. They were not too far away from their destination, already entering the district of Marylebone, where Harry’s café was located on the High Street.
When they finally arrived, Harry exclaimed, “Here we are then! Are you sure you won’t come in for a cuppa, Mother? What about you, Papa?”
“Another time, son,” Philip answered, hugged Harry, who in turn hugged his mother and his brother, and James followed suit. He said goodnight to his grandparents, as did Denny.
Once they were inside the café, James was happy they had come. Secretly, Harry was very proud of Café Rendezvous, and took them to a table near the window, explaining, “You’ll be surprised how late we stay open. People flock here after they’ve been to the theaters or the music halls. Give me a minute or two, and I’ll send over a waiter with coffee and cakes.”
James nodded, and once they were alone, Denny said, “When Harry talks about this place, he makes it sound like a hole in the wall. But it’s nice, ain’t it.”
“It is, yes, and the people here look as if they’re enjoying themselves. Harry’s done a grand job, but I know deep down he wishes it were a proper restaurant.”
“As yer grandma said, that day will come.” Denny sat back, a reflective look crossing his face. After a moment, he said quietly, “Thanks for tonight, Jimmy, yer all make me feel real welcome … it’s a change from our ’ouse … Dad’s so worried about me mum.”
“I know.” James reached out, touched Denny’s arm, wanting to console him. “It’s difficult
for him, and for you, too, and Nancy. How is your sister, by the way?”
“Doin’ awright, and she comes over when she can. She likes the woman she works for.”
At this moment, the waiter arrived with a tray, placed cups of hot coffee and plates of small cakes in front of them. “Selected by the boss himself,” the young man said, gave them a bright smile, and walked off.
James liked the atmosphere in the café. It was filling up with more customers, and the overall mood was friendly and certainly lively. Surrounded by the chatter, laughter, and clatter of the place, James sat back and relaxed, noticing as he did that unexpectedly Denny appeared less tense. It struck him that Harry had been right to bring them here. It was, after all, a much safer place to be than in the bar called Tango Rose.
Twelve
As they left the dining room and entered the vast, elegant entrance hall, Sebastian took hold of Lord Reginald Carpenter’s arm and brought him to a standstill.
Turning him gently, so that Lord Reginald faced the double staircase that floated up to a huge window on a landing, Sebastian said, “That’s him up there. Staring down at us. I look like him, don’t you think, Reggie?”
“You do indeed. In fact, the resemblance is quite remarkable. It might very well be a portrait of you, not of your grandfather.”
Laughter bubbled up in Sebastian’s throat and he nodded. “True. Except he was my great-grandfather, and I was named for him. I’ve probably inherited other characteristics from him, not only his looks.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never told you about him before, but he was killed in a duel over a woman. And I’ve been rendered brainless by a woman I spent three minutes with. Let’s face it, my old friend, that’s not exactly normal, now, is it?”
Reginald half smiled and steered Sebastian toward the library, where he knew Bloom was waiting to serve them a nightcap. As they walked into the room together, Reginald said, “We’ll speak about that matter when we have drinks in our hands.”
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