"It's so tense in that room you could cut the air with a dessert spoon," Luke said. He placed an empty plate onto the table and dodged out of the way of Martha, who carried a large pot behind him.

"What are they talking about?"

"Business affairs mostly. I don't think Mr Turner and Miss Bolton have said two words to each other since they sat down. It's colder inside that room than it is outside."

"Take these upstairs, Luke," Mrs Folkestone said. She handed him a large silver tray with a pot resting on top. "And stop gossiping. It is not our place to judge their supper-time conversations nor to make assumptions about their relationships. Get back to work."

"Yes, Mrs Folkestone."

Luke grabbed the tray and disappeared back upstairs to continue serving supper alongside George. The rest of us continued with preparations for the other courses, which left the kitchen warm and humid with the stove burning away in the corner. Sweat trickled down my back as I rushed around with Martha to make sure everything was ready to go upstairs.

Supper times with guests were always over the top, dramatic affairs that I didn't see much point in. The pomp and circumstance of it all just seemed like a waste of time, and we spent most of the day rushing around the kitchen rather than completing our usual chores. The only upside was that we were allowed to eat the leftovers as they returned from the dining room. It was one of the few times the staff were allowed to indulge a little.

Each time Luke and George returned to collect the next course, they whispered the goings-on in the dining room, or lack thereof. The conversation had gone stale. Mr Turner and Miss Bolton hadn't spoken a single word to each other all evening, and no one wanted to be there. It certainly didn't sound like the supper Lord Turner had no doubt been envisioning when he arranged for it.

"At least there's only two more courses," Martha said. She placed a small sauce dish onto the silver tray for Luke to take upstairs. "How much worse can it get?"

"Oi, weren't you the one tellin' me to never say somethin' like that?" Bertie asked. He took one of the roasted carrots off one of the plates that had come down.

"No, I told you to never say things were going well. It's different."

"No, it ain't. Lily, back me up, here."

"I'm not getting involved. The sooner this supper is over and we can all go to bed, the better."

"Now that is something I can get behind." Martha laughed, placing a couple of small plates onto one of the trays and taking a carrot from one of the old ones.

"Just two more courses. Only two more."

Luke said it more to himself than anyone else as he grabbed the trays and carried them upstairs for the next course. The rest of us busied ourselves with making sure the dessert was ready, including a jelly that had been resting all day.

I stood in front of the large kitchen sink, my hands submerged in the water, as I set about cleaning the plates and dishes from the first few courses. After a minute, Martha joined me, drying the dishes and putting them away. We worked side-by-side without the need to talk to one another, both of us just getting through the work as best we could. Having worked all day, all I wanted to do was go to bed.

We heard the yelling before Luke or George returned to collect the dessert. The floor and doors muffled the sound, but the voices were raised just enough for us to know something was going on. All activity in the kitchen stopped. I looked at Martha, who glanced into the hallway just beyond the kitchen.

The voices were indistinguishable from one another, but we all knew one of them had to have been Mr Turner's, and I only had to assume one of them was Lord Taylor. None of us could make out what they were saying.

"You did this," Bertie said to Martha, joining us at the sink. He eyed the hallway with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"How? I'm not the one up there yelling loud enough to bring the house down."

"You asked how much worse supper could get. This is it." He nodded. "You did it."

"He has a point. And before you say anything, you're the one always going on about not drawing attention to the quiet moments."

"Alright, alright, I get it. Not that we didn't know this was coming from the way Luke's been talking."

The voices grew louder as the door to the kitchen opened, promptly followed by the sound of footsteps echoing down the stairs. Luke and George appeared, looking a little more dishevelled than usual. Their hands were empty and Luke unbuttoned his jacket, taking it off and flinging it onto the backs of one of the chairs. He dropped down in the seat and rubbed his hands over his face.

We all stood watching them, the raised voices dying down upstairs.

"What happened?" Martha asked. She ignored the disapproving look from Mrs Folkestone, who had also stopped her work to listen to the growing shouts from upstairs.

"Lord Turner mentioned the idea of joining their family with the Boltons and Mr Turner lost it," Luke said. "He started going on about how he could make his own decisions, about how he wouldn't be forced to do something he didn't want to do. It turned into a yelling match from there."

"S'pose if he gets married, he'll have to reign his behaviour in a bit more and we all know he ain't goin' to do that," Bertie said.

"Or maybe he just doesn't want to marry Miss Bolton because there's someone else."

"You don't know him like we do, Lily. Mr Turner has always been a rake. Marrying Miss Bolton would stop all of that in its tracks — at least you would think it would. I don't think it would stop him, really."

"What happened after the yelling started?" Bertie eyed the desserts on the table.

"Mr Turner stormed out. He left through the front door and we were dismissed for the evening."

"So they won't be wantin' any of this." Bertie made for the desserts but a wooden spoon to the back of his hand by Mrs Folkestone stopped him in his tracks.

"This will keep until tomorrow. No more gossiping; I want this kitchen spotless."

"Yes, Mrs Folkestone."

Martha dropped her head close to my ear. "I reckon Mr Turner's gone to the public house. We'll be lucky to see him for a few days."

I looked at her and frowned, but didn't say anything. Instead, I turned back to the dishes and did my best to not think about Mr Turner and his lack of interest in marrying Miss Bolton.

~~~

First Published - March 2nd, 2024