Marblestone Mansion 01 - Scandalous Duchess

cooks were another matter and normally one butler or the other hinted at disharmony in the kitchen. Even so, Hannish was at a loss as to how to solve the problem. Prescot reported that if something was not done soon, chaos would breakout in the kitchen.
    Trouble was closer than they thought.

    CHAPTER 5

    Cook Halen and cook Jessie sat across from each other at the table in the kitchen glaring at one another. It was almost time to start the noon meal; the servants were nearly finished with their morning chores and drifted in and out without either of the cooks noticing.
    “ We must come to some kind of arrangement,” said Halen. She was a stout woman in her late forties, and of average height, with graying hair tightly pulled back in a knot under her white cooking bonnet.
    Just as stout, yet a few years younger with blond hair and brown eyes, Jessie was determined to win the argument. “Aye, but not that one. I rise up early in the morn, always have. ‘Tis only right I should be the mornin’ cook.”
    “ I get up early too, Jessie, and I wager I make better biscuits.”
    Jessie’s eye shot up. “Who says?”
    “ Everyone, just ask them.”
    When Jessie glanced around, the room was oddly void of people. Then she smiled a mischievous sort of smile. “Care to place a wager on that?”
    “ I do, name your price.”
    “ The winner takes breakfast.”
    “ Agreed,” said Halen. “Tomorrow, we shall make breakfast together. You bake half the biscuits and I’ll bake the other half.”
    Jessie nodded. “‘Tis a fair proposition.”

    The next morning, while Halen wasn’t looking, Jessie added just a touch more salt to her batch of biscuits, while Halen secretly added a bit of sugar to hers. Nevertheless, the residents of Marblestone Mansion claimed they couldn’t quite decide and nothing got settled. That afternoon, Jessie baked a cake and so did Halen, sharing little in the kitchen except a few stern looks. By the time the pies came out of the oven that evening, half the servants were afraid to taste either one. It was never a good idea to get on the wrong side of a cook.

    “ Why me?” McKenna asked, her arm through her brother’s as they strolled across the lawn toward the mansion. “I like to eat as well as anyone else.”
    “ Please,” he begged, pretending to pout.
    “ How? They look as though they mean to kill each other.”
    “ If I knew how, I would settle it myself.” He grinned, kissed her on the forehead, and went inside.
    Several letters and cablegrams arrived, none of which Hannish shared with anyone. One addition to the Mansion was about to make life far less complicated, if not more exciting – wooden telephone boxes were finally affixed to the walls in all the sitting rooms, the study and the kitchen. Alistair delighted in teaching everyone how to use it, since the Scots had used them for months. He explained taking the earpiece off the metal holder, turning the crank to alert the operator switchboard and then speaking into the cone shaped mouthpiece on the front.
    Sassy stood behind the others in the kitchen, waited for Alistair to finish giving his instructions and then giggled. “You can hear all sorts of things when you listen in.”
    Hannish frowned. “But, you’ll not do that here, will you Sassy?”
    “ Not lest I am asked,” said Sassy
    “ Unless,” Keith corrected.
    His corrections always made her glare at him and this time was no exception. “ Un… less.”
    Hannish said, “I assure you, I am the only one who may ask, and you shall never hear me do it. Agreed, Sassy?”
    “ Agreed, Mr. Hannish.” He was not quite certain exactly when they all began to call him ‘Mr. Hannish’ instead of his more formal name, but he knew Sassy started it and he approved. It would not be acceptable in some circles, but this was America and Americans were changing nearly everything.
    Sassy’s eyes sparkled. “I dinna suppose you care to know what I heard once when I listened in.”
    “ I do,” Jessie said.
    That was all the encouragement Sassy needed. “Twas Old Mrs. Forthright what done the callin’ and I was ever so careful to lift the listening part just so. If you dinna do it careful, it clicks, and Old Mrs. Forthright has ears to hear a mouse tiptoe across the floor. Did I tell how badly I hated Old Mrs. Forthright?”
    Everyone, even Hannish, nodded so she went on with her story. “Well, ‘twas upon a Sunday while the good folks was in church, and low and behold,