Chapter Twenty
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Dinner was going well, Violet thought, and partly because Henry was the perfect guest. He made himself at home to the extent that he helped with wine and passing dishes, but he was also a brilliant conversationalist, and treated the ladies in particular with respect and kindness.
Kiki’s relations were clearly overawed by staying in such a large old house, even if most of it was fairly scruffy. Violet heard from her father that they had hardly said a word on the journey. Apparently being in a car with a lord, even a very recent one, made conversation impossible.
Henry paid special attention to their glasses and although she couldn’t hear what was being said up the other end of the table, she could see smiles and blushes. She observed him as much as she could. The more she saw him, the more she was sure she had somehow met him before. But how and where?
Henry joined Violet and Jenny in clearing the dishes, and she suddenly found herself alone in the kitchen with him for a moment. Because she’d had punch and at least two glasses of wine she said, ‘I have this feeling that we’ve met before. Although your name doesn’t seem remotely familiar.’
He paused. ‘We haven’t met before, but since I picked up you and Jenny on the road, I’ve been wondering how to tell you …’
‘Tell me what?’
‘That I’m the owner of the bookshop where you work. I’m not there very often because I’m mostly abroad visiting ancient sites.’
‘Oh.’ Violet put down the dishes she was holding. She instantly knew where she’d seen him before. He was the man she’d seen getting into a taxi the first day she had arrived at her new job. He was her mysterious boss, the man she hadn’t met. Until now.
Aware that Violet didn’t know what to say, Henry took up the conversational baton. ‘Do you like working at the shop? Are you finding it terribly boring? Your godmother encouraged me to take you on, it’s true, but I’m very glad I did.’
‘I don’t have any idea what my job is,’ Violet said, aware that she wouldn’t have been so honest were she not a little drunk. ‘And no one at the bookshop knows either. But I am quite enjoying what I am doing.’
Jenny came in with a tray of dishes and Kiki followed. ‘Get the plates out of the oven, Violet, would you?’ said Kiki. ‘I don’t think my pie is going to be big enough.’
‘You’ve got plenty of vegetables and there’s pudding,’ said Jenny.
‘Are the fish knives out?’
‘No,’ said Violet slowly. ‘I’m afraid we don’t own fish knives.’ She was completely distracted by the news that Henry was her boss. She needed time on her own to digest this. Annoyingly, she was very unlikely to get the chance, possibly not until everyone went to bed.
Eventually, dinner was served and although everything was a little cold, no one seemed to mind.
A young assistant, whom Violet recognised as one of Mrs Driver’s many granddaughters, helped serve and clear away. Eventually, everyone was in the drawing room with the fire made up, drinking port, brandy or crème de menthe. Violet had found a bottle in the back of the drinks cupboard for Kiki and her sisters, when it transpired they didn’t like the other choices.
‘Christmas Day tomorrow,’ said Aubrey. ‘What is the schedule?’
Kiki cleared her throat. ‘Unfortunately, the housekeeper won’t be with us tomorrow—’
‘Christmas Day,’ said Aubrey. ‘Couldn’t have her working on Christmas Day!’
‘She offered,’ said Kiki tightly.
‘She didn’t want to, though,’ said Aubrey.
Violet, worried her father and Kiki were going to ‘have words’, broke in. ‘We’ll manage. I’m more than happy to do any washing up and clearing that’s required.’
‘So am I,’ said Jenny.
Other offers of help were made, and Kiki looked mollified. But Violet could tell she wasn’t happy with her family having to roll their sleeves up on Christmas Day. She had wanted to offer a grand Christmas in a stately home, possibly with servants. It wasn’t working out as she had wanted.
‘So, what is the schedule?’ said Violet. ‘Shall I cook breakfast? What time should we have it?’
‘Church is at ten o’clock,’ said Aubrey. ‘I’ll show my face and take anyone else who wants to come.’
‘We always go to church on Christmas morning,’ said one of Kiki’s sisters.
‘Oh yes,’ said the other.
‘I expect you’d like to go to church too,’ said Violet to Kiki, ‘if it’s your family tradition. I’m more than happy to stay at home and keep an eye on the turkey.’ Especially if it meant she could work out how she felt about Henry and working for him.
‘Are you sure?’ Kiki was obviously torn between wanting to sacrifice herself for the sake of Christmas lunch and going to church.
‘Of course!’ said Violet, possibly too enthusiastically. ‘I’ve done it heaps of times.’ The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. She didn’t want to imply what Kiki was doing was easy. For some reason, she didn’t want Kiki to look bad, even though when she’d first moved into the house Violet had been convinced she didn’t like her.
‘As I’m local, I’d be very happy to organise a walk,’ said Jenny. ‘We could end up at the pub and be back in time to help with lunch.’
‘A walk sounds fun,’ said Henry.
‘Breakfast at eight then. But if anyone wants to sleep until later, it can go on longer.’ Violet smiled brightly at everyone, wondering if she was looking completely deranged.
‘It was very sweet of you to offer to look after the turkey,’ said Jenny as they were getting ready for bed.
‘I suddenly felt sorry for Kiki. She’s worked so hard to have this big Christmas for her family. I didn’t want to be difficult for her.’
‘I feel the same in a way.’
‘I still don’t want her to marry Daddy, though,’ said Violet. ‘She’s just not right for him.’
‘Maybe you’d feel like that about anyone who wanted to marry him,’ Jenny replied, rubbing cold cream into her face.
Did Jenny sound a little diffident? Remembering what Felicity had said about Jenny possibly carrying a torch for her father, Violet said carefully, ‘No. I’d be very happy if he chose the right person.’
She was concentrating on rubbing in her own night cream as she said this, so she couldn’t see Jenny’s reaction. She didn’t want her to feel awkward.
Besides, Violet had her own potential awkwardness to be concerned with. She realised she didn’t want to confide in Jenny about Henry, not just yet.
Luckily, tiredness prevented her from lying awake thinking about the eccentric man who travelled with a spirit stove and the ingredients for punch, and who seemed relaxed about hiring a woman to work in his bookshop whom he had never met.