“One never knows.” Cynthia lifted a muffin from a plate where Tess was piling them and took a big bite. “Mmm. Excellent.”

The muffins were full of butter that Tess had melted into them. A droplet of gold leaked down Cynthia’s chin as she chewed. I thrust out a cloth and caught the butter before it could stain her frock.

“Take this napkin with you, and do have a care.”

Cynthia laughed as she snatched the piece of linen from me and wiped her chin. “You’re far better than my own mum, Mrs. H. She’d never have noticed.”

Cynthia’s age and mine were very close, but I was not offended. Her mother, by all reports, was a frivolous and careless woman.

“Off you go,” I said.

Cynthia waved at me and departed, taking the scullery stairs to the street. Tess thrust tongs around another muffin on the rack at the stove and transferred muffin to plate.

“Her ladyship is so beautiful this morning,” she said in admiration. “Mr. Thanos’s eyes will fall out.”

“I agree.” I turned back to my notebook, wondering how on earth I’d put together a meal for twelve with the few pieces of salt pork I had in the larder. “I didn’t like to say so, for fear she’d balk and decide not to see him.”

“They’re a rum pair,” Tess said as she slid another toasted muffin from the rack. “Think they’ll ever marry?”

“I would like that, but Mr. Thanos has little money, from what Mr. McAdam tells me. But he has recently been hired to do lectures. Perhaps that will help.”

“Nah,” Tess said decidedly. “I think you’re born rich or you work for the rich, but nothing in between, Mrs. H.”

I sighed. “I’m afraid you might have the right of it, Tess.”

*   *   *

I produced a meal, if not out of nothing then next to nothing. The soups were relatively effortless—I frequently prepared stock from bones and herbs and had a pot of broth warming every day on the back of the stove. From that I created a clear soup with chives and a heartier soup by adding new potatoes and thickening the broth with a touch of flour and cream.

The meats were more difficult. I had to make do with grinding up the pork plus leftover chicken and stuffing a seasoned mixture of this into pastry dough Tess had made, intended for more tarts.

Every fresh vegetable I could find in the larder we rinsed, sliced, or tore, and made into salads or simply boiled or sautéed with a bit of butter and herbs. I threw sweet pies together from whatever pastry dough was left over plus walnuts in brown sugar with a dash of brandy.