Vermilion ~ Twenty-Four: Servant

[annarti.livejournal.com]

The kitchens flew with the ordered chaos of a banquet meal. Canapés were lined up and all but ready, the ovens burned with hot coals and a dozen different sauces bubbled on the stoves. As he watched, the castle wait staff appeared, immaculately dressed in bottle green silk trousers and waistcoats, to take the gilded silver trays of canapés upstairs.

By rights, the servant shouldn’t be down here. He should be upstairs with his own masters, awaiting their orders, but the lord and lady of his home town weren’t the extravagant entertainers that Lord and Lady Candlewood appeared to be. He had never seen such activity in the castle kitchens before, and he was fascinated.

At least, that was the excuse he would blurt out if he were discovered where he shouldn’t be. The truth was a little less innocent.

He slipped through the kitchen, keeping an eye on the head cook and walking as though he was meant to be there. He did well to keep out of anyone’s way, and none of the kitchen hands gave the visiting servant more than a second glance. At the far end of the kitchen lay the scullery, near to the door outside so they could more easily collect water to fill the sinks. Though the first dishes had only just been sent up, pots and pans, knives and chopping boards, mixing bowls and empty jars were already piled up by the sink.

He sidled up behind one of the dishwashers, bent forward, and whispered in her ear. ‘Someone’s asking for you in the pantry.’

He could see her grin even though she didn’t turn around, in the prickle of the back of her neck and the none-too-innocent shrug of her shoulder. ‘Would that someone be standing right behind me?’ she asked with a sly glance back at him.

He had met her earlier today, at the staff’s welcoming luncheon, and they had easily struck up a conversation. She had dropped heavy hints to him that she was searching for a partner, but wasn’t sure she would find one in her own town. On some absurd impulse, he had kissed her, right there beneath the apple tree, just a light peck on the cheek. With a grin and a blush, she had returned in kind, then run back to the castle kitchen with a promise to see him again.

He smiled anew at the memory. He left a light kiss on the back of her neck, and was rewarded again with those pleasant prickles. ‘He might be,’ he answered.

‘Well, then.’ The scullery girl looked over at her companions, both grinning as they worked. ‘I must politely decline. As I’m certain you can see, I have a lot on, and the night has only just begun.’

‘My lady has a malicious streak!’ the servant declared, then he bent forward to whisper again in her ear. ‘I wish only to kiss you, just once, to curb my distractions of the evening. I’m here only for this week, then I must be away again with my lord and lady. I wish to spend as much of that time with you as I may find.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ the scullery girl giggled. She looked long and hard back over her shoulder, past him to the length of the kitchen with its polished stone benches. Then she jumped up to the tips of her toes and kissed him again, quickly but full on the lips.

‘There,’ she said, turning back to her dishes as if that was enough to satisfy him. ‘Now, you get back to work, and just keep to yourself until—’

The servant lifted his eyebrows when she broke herself off. ‘Until?’ he pressed.

‘Until after dinner,’ she finished. ‘Well after dinner. It will take at least an hour to finish up after something like this, and Cook needs to have the kitchen absolutely spotless for tomorrow’s breakfast.’

He kissed her neck once more in parting. ‘Very well,’ he agreed with a regretful sigh. ‘I shall await the evening’s end with bated breath.’

He gasped and froze in his tracks when he turned around. He felt the scullery girl turn behind him and drop into a polite curtsey. The other two dishwashers did the same, bowing or curtseying to their master. It was all the visiting servant could do to follow their example.

‘Good evening, Master Candlewood,’ the scullery girl greeted, showing none of the fear the servant felt. How much had he seen? ‘What brings you to the kitchens? Haven’t the canapés been sent up yet?’

The master nodded. ‘They have. I snatched one on the way down here. I’ve just come to wish you all well for the work ahead, though I see Cook has everything well under control.’

‘Oh, absolutely, master.’

He gave a sly grin, then. ‘I may have a word with her in a moment, and with…’ He frowned at the servant, cocking his head to one side in thought. ‘Lord and Lady Greendale are your masters, am I correct?’

The servant nodded, feeling his face run hot with embarrassment. ‘Please, forgive me, Master Candlewood. I meant no offence.’

Mater Candlewood frowned in genuine confusion. ‘And why should I take any?’ he asked. ‘I only mean to see if they might give you both a few hours to yourselves this week.’ He gave them both a wink and turned back to the kitchen.

‘Greendale?’ The scullery girl slapped him in the arm. ‘You’re from Greendale? Why didn’t you say so?’

The servant swallowed and found his tongue again, but his mind was still living a few moments ago, well before her question. ‘Did your master just give us some time off?’

‘Mhmm,’ the scullery girl said with a nod and a cheeky grin. ‘He does that, sometimes. Why didn’t you tell me you were from Greendale?’

He shrugged, still not believing what he had just witnessed. Any other noble, he was sure, would look down his nose at such a public display, especially one that had so clearly taken the servant away from his duties. ‘Why is it important? It’s too far to travel in a day.’

She slapped him again, playfully, on the arm. ‘Do you not pay attention to your masters at all? Mistress Greendale has been hanging off Master Vermilion’s arm all day. The rumour is that this whole to-do is for her benefit.’ She took his hand in hers, fingers warm and damp from the sink water. ‘You might be back here sooner than you think.’

The servant’s eyes popped open. ‘He means to court my mistress?’ The dream was so close he could almost touch it. In this short distraction from his mundane life, he could see opportunity rising. She might become more than a distant love. She may yet become his wife. ‘But I serve Lord Greendale,’ he lamented. ‘Even if she were to move to Candlewood, I wouldn’t be the servant she would take.’

‘So,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Find yourself in Master Vermilion’s good graces. It won’t be difficult. He likes to be liked and, even more, he enjoys bringing loves together. Talk with him, and you’ll find a firm ally.’ She dropped her eyes then looked coyly up through her lashes. ‘That is, if you still want to.’

‘Even more, now that it may be possible.’ He lifted her fingers to his lips to give her a more chaste and proper kiss, looking up into her eyes as he did so. ‘I will make it possible,’ he promised.

With reluctance, but a positive spring in his step, he left her to her pots and pans and quickly darted out of the kitchen before the cook might catch him, then climbed the servants’ stairs two at a time to reach the guest chambers of Lord and Lady Greendale.

Their valet was the only one in the rooms, and was brushing lint from one of Lord Greendale’s dinner jackets.

‘You’re just in time,’ the valet said sourly. ‘They left a few minutes ago. You can set the fire and make ready their bed now.’

The servant bowed to his superior and set to work, loading kindling and logs into the fireplace. ‘Did you hear that Master Candlewood wishes to court our mistress?’ he asked.

The valet didn’t so much as pause in his work. ‘I had, but far be it from me to comment on rumour, and neither should you, at that. We are guests in this town, you’d do well to remember.’

‘I know that,’ the servant said as he struck alight the fire. ‘But, well, suppose he does. Would you think Lord Greendale might allow me to be her servant here?’

‘And why would you ask for that?’ the valet replied, neatly avoiding a straight answer. ‘If you have eyes for Mistress Greendale, following her to her new love is not the way to go about it.’

The servant blushed, glad his face was turned away from the valet. He had at one time, though he had never mentioned anything to the valet. ‘For one of Castle Candlewood, if you must know,’ he almost snapped. ‘Do you think they would, if I were to forward my case in the right way?’

The valet did pause then, but when the servant checked over his shoulder he saw it was only because he had finished brushing the jacket down and was now replacing it on its hanger. ‘Perhaps,’ was all the hint he gave.

It was as firm an agreement as he was ever likely to win from the valet, and so it was something the servant felt he could work with. He would gain Mater Candlewood’s support, as the scullery girl had suggested, and with it he would win his passage to the castle.

Comments

[ladylight.livejournal.com]

... I miss that valet :<

I like how the background action is slowly ramping up in each new vignette and people get busier and busier. This is going to be one hell of a feast.

[annarti.livejournal.com]

I so wish I could've been at it >>