Tess noticed when I did. “I wonder if she’s done with her drawing,” she pondered. “Or if she’s found something more interesting to sketch. Why’d someone want to look at a picture of a kitchen, anyway?”

“Perhaps the very wealthy don’t know what a kitchen looks like,” I offered, only half in jest.

Tess chuckled and returned to beating egg whites for a rhubarb mousse I wanted to try.

The morning wore on uneventfully except that the rhubarb had turned bad and so I made an apple charlotte instead of the mousse. The bowls came down from luncheon quite clean, which I took to mean everyone had liked it.

Mrs. Redfern entered the kitchen to inform me of how many were expected for dinner. “Five,” she said. “Lady Cynthia will dine in today, as well as Mr. Bywater’s friend, Mr. Thanos, and a vicar called Mr. Fielding.”

I dropped the pencil I used to make notes, which fell to the floor and rolled into a crack between the slates.

“Mr. Fielding?” I repeated, trying to hide my agitation.

“Yes, the vicar who called on you,” Mrs. Redfern said, as though trying to be helpful. “With the charitable society, wasn’t he? I suppose Mrs. Bywater took to him. Or else he is yet another potential match for Lady Cynthia.”

She sounded disapproving. Though she thought it high time Cynthia wed, she did not like the way Mrs. Bywater was going about things, and she considered that none but an aristocrat would do for an aristocrat’s daughter.

Mr. Fielding had not been in the best of moods last night, and I could not believe he’d suddenly turn agreeable this evening. While I believed Cynthia probably could keep him in order, I worried very much.

“What about Miss Townsend?” I asked. “Was she invited?”

Mrs. Redfern looked surprised. “Not that I know of. Why?”

“It would even the number,” I said quickly. “Three ladies, three gentlemen.”

“I will suggest it.” Mrs. Redfern sounded doubtful. “I will let you know if you need to add one more serving.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Redfern eyed me as though she thought I might run mad at any moment, but she glided away.

I dug my pencil out of the crack and wrote hasty notes about what I should cook, but I could not settle my mind.

What was Mr. Fielding up to? He’d finagled the invitation, I was certain, but why? And why had Mr. Thanos been invited? Mr. Bywater liked him—there was that explanation. But I’d overheard Mrs. Bywater declare he was too poor for Cynthia, no matter how affable Mr. Bywater considered him.

Nonetheless, I put together sole with anchovy sauce for the first course, which would be followed by roast beef and pigeon in a thick gravy, followed by an herb salad and almond custard. The remainder of the apples would go into more tartlets.