Page 38 of Hastings (Brothers in Arms #15)

CHAPTER 38

“G ood morning, Mrs. Tulane.”

Maddy was trying to speak normally, as Hastings had put it last evening. He said when she was trying to be a lady she sounded like someone’s great-aunt. Which was apparently not a good thing.

“Why do you sound strange when you’re talking to other people?” he had asked. Maddy had confessed she learned to speak properly as part of her disguise, and it was hard to forget it. “I read a dictionary,” she said as if confessing a dastardly crime. “I needed to improve my vocabulary, so I read Mr. Johnson’s English Dictionary .” But she had promised to try not to talk like that, and she was starting with Mrs. Tulane.

She hesitantly stepped into the kitchen. She realized she was twisting her fingers together nervously and forced her hands down at her sides. She’d killed men in the dark alleys of London’s stews, for heaven’s sake. She could take on one cantankerous housekeeper in the country.

Mrs. Tulane turned slowly from the work counter to face her, a scowl on her face. “What now?” she asked rudely.

Maddy’s heart was pounding in her chest. She knew she was being ridiculous about this. She took a deep breath and stood straighter. “I was wondering if you might be able to, perhaps, if you have the time, teach me how to make bread.” She was gripping the skirt of her dress in both hands, and she forced her fists open and smoothed the material. She couldn’t afford to ruin this one. She only had two left.

“You want me to what?” Mrs. Tulane asked, an incredulous look on her face.

Maddy gave up all pretense of confidence and clasped her hands at her waist again. “Teach me to make bread?” she asked, hating how meek she sounded. What on earth was it about Mrs. Tulane that made her so nervous?

“And why would you be wanting to learn that?” the housekeeper asked suspiciously.

“Well, Hastings…that is, Mr. Hastings, Sheriff Hastings, he said it was his favorite thing. Your fresh baked bread. And I thought, maybe, I could learn how to make it? For him? And Mr. Matthews, of course. And it would certainly, I’m sure, come in handy wherever I go. I mean, when I leave. Here. When I go.” She wanted him to remember her when she was gone, if not as a lover, as someone who had cared enough to give him this.

Mrs. Tulane stood there blinking at her. Maddy had no idea what was going through her mind.

“It was a silly idea,” Maddy said when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know how to cook.” She was shaking her head. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you. Really.” She turned to leave, desperate to get out of this awkward situation.

“Stop right there, missy,” Mrs. Tulane ordered, and Maddy stopped as if she were on a leash. She slowly turned to face the older woman. “So, you want to make bread for Mr. Hastings?” Mrs. Tulane asked, a calculating look in her eye.

“Yes, ma’am,” Maddy replied.

“Does Mr. Matthews know?”

“That I want to learn to make bread?” Maddy asked. “No. I wanted to surprise him, too.” The biggest surprise would be if Mrs. Tulane agreed to teach her. Stephen would be delighted that the two women had gotten along long enough for that to happen. Perhaps not as happy as Hastings, but still.

“Hmm,” Mrs. Tulane said. She paced back and forth in front of the cupboard, pausing to look at Maddy every few steps. Maddy didn’t dare move until she gave her permission. After what seemed a considerable amount of time as she seemed to wrestle with something internally, Mrs. Tulane stopped and faced her.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Her lips were thinned in a sour expression. She didn’t look happy at her decision.

“If it’s a bother, you needn’t go to any trouble for me,” Maddy said, inching a step backwards out of the kitchen. “I don’t want to interrupt your plans or schedule.”

“Don’t be a ninnyhammer,” Mrs. Tulane said briskly. “I’ve already said I’ll do it. If it was an imposition, I’d tell you that, too.” Maddy was quite sure she would.

“Thank you, Mrs. Tulane. I do appreciate it.” Maddy wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Go wash your hands and then come over here so we can start. The bread’s not going to make itself for supper, and we’ve only so much time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maddy said, and barely suppressed a grin as she headed for the wash bowl.

An hour later she was leaning over, about to peek under the towel covering her rising bread dough when Essie came into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Essie demanded.

“Here, get away from there!” Mrs. Tulane said sharply. “You can’t peek. It needs the dark and the warmth to rise properly. Do you want to ruin it?”

Maddy jumped away from the counter. “No!” she cried out, wringing her hands. “I didn’t ruin it. I swear. I never looked.”

“Looked at what? What’s under there?” Essie came over and started to reach for the towel, and Maddy slapped her hand away.

“Don’t you dare,” she told her. “It’s my first loaf. Mrs. Tulane says I’m a natural.”

“A natural what? Lunatic?” Essie asked, rubbing her hand.

“You took your arm out of the sling!” Maddy had just noticed. “Are you sure it’s all right?”

“I was off to see the town witch this morning and he said it’s right as rain,” Essie told her. She stretched her arm out and then winced. “It might still hurt a little, but he said that’s natural as the muscle is still mending. But he said it’s best to use it now.”

“That would be Dr. Pearson,” Mrs. Tulane said, her voice reeking with disapproval. “He’s fresh out of medical college and has very modern ideas.”

“You don’t approve?” Maddy asked, surprised.

Mrs. Tulane sniffed. “We had more live than die with old Dr. Traywel, so I’m sure I don’t know why things had to change. But His Grace insisted and retired the old doctor to Lyme. That was before Their Graces’s last babe was born.” She glanced around the kitchen and leaned in, and Maddy and Essie followed suit. “Between us, Her Grace is getting older, and it’s said they feared for her when the last was born.”

“Oh, dear,” Maddy said. It was hard to imagine the lively and vivacious duchess as old, much less infirm. She looked as if she was made to produce ducal offspring indefinitely.

“I’ve never needed a doctor in my life,” Essie said. “I only went because Mr. Matthews insisted, and Hastings made me. I’ve had worse than this and tended myself.”

“Exactly,” Mrs. Tulane said with a pronounced nod of her head.

“I think change is good,” Maddy said firmly. “Science and medicine are helping make society better.” Mrs. Tulane scowled and Maddy wished she could take it back. She’d made great strides with the housekeeper this morning and didn’t want to go backwards.

“Like Frankenstein, hmm? So, what sort of experiment is under here?” Essie asked, pointing to the basket holding Maddy’s dough.

“Bread,” Maddy said proudly.

“Bread,” Essie repeated. She stared at Maddy for a second or two. “You’re making bread.”

“Yes,” Maddy said. She sounded defensive, and reminded herself this was Essie. It was safe to admit here what she was doing, and what she wanted to do.

“Can I ask why?” She glanced over at the housekeeper. “Is there a reason Mrs. Tulane couldn’t make the bread today?”

“No.” Mrs. Tulane was folding a kitchen towel very precisely. “Miss Hyde wanted to learn to make bread.”

“Again, why?” Essie pinned Maddy with a searching look.

“Because Hastings likes fresh baked bread,” Maddy said, still defensive. Perhaps even more defensive.

“I see.” And from the look she was giving Maddy, Essie did see. At least it wasn’t pity. More like accusation. “And you wanted to make him fresh bread.”

“Yes, well, you know, he works very hard as sheriff,” Maddy said. “And he said it’s one of his favorite things.” She glanced over at Mrs. Tulane, who had her stiff back facing them. “I know it won’t be as good as Mrs. Tulane’s, of course, but I thought it might be something that would come in handy when I…when I go, you know.”

She didn’t look at Essie as she said it. She’d be leaving Essie behind, as well. Everyone she’d gotten to know and love here at the parsonage. But Essie and Hastings wouldn’t be here anymore, either. Just Stephen, and Mrs. Tulane. And perhaps whatever woman Stephen eventually married, of course. And there was a new doctor, too, so she needn’t worry he wouldn’t be taken care of properly. The duke and duchess would take care of him, too, obviously. And all his other friends. Maddy hadn’t gotten to know all of them, not really, because she was too dangerous to be around.

She glanced down and saw that she was clutching the back of a chair so tightly her knuckles were white. She let it go and busied herself tidying up the counter, which didn’t need it as they’d already cleaned up.

“Baking bread is a very useful skill,” Essie said encouragingly. Maddy glanced over at her in surprise.

“Yes, indeed it is,” Mrs. Tulane agreed. “There’s many a woman who supplements her household income selling her baked goods. Why, tomorrow I’ll teach you how to make a fine biscuit—Mr. Matthews’s favorite, you know.”

“He does like his biscuits,” Maddy agreed, imagining Stephen every afternoon with his tea and biscuits. “And your cake.”

“We’ve time for all that,” Mrs. Tulane assured her. “You’ll be a right accomplished baker when…that is, soon.” They fell silent for a moment until Mrs. Tulane waved the tea towel at them. “Now, shoo! That bread won’t rise for another half an hour at least. I’ll come find you.”