Cream Caramel and Murder

by K E O'Connor

  “I’m certain Chef Heston would have something to say about me wearing pearls while I worked. If one fell in the food, it would be a choking hazard. Please, Lady Philippa, keep your pearls. I’m happy to keep an eye on Lord Rupert. I don’t want to see him getting in any trouble. Although I can’t imagine what danger’s coming his way.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “When I have a hunch like this, I never ignore it. Bad things always happen if I don’t pay attention.” Lady Philippa’s gaze drifted to the window.

  I took the opportunity to take a peek at the open notepad she’d scribbled in. My stomach clenched. Even upside down, I could read some of the scribblings. The notebook was full of dark portents and predictions of bad things happening to members of the family.

  Just how accurate could they be? And what was I getting myself into by agreeing to keep Lord Rupert safe?

  Chapter 5

  After sitting with Lady Philippa for a few more minutes, I needed to get back to the kitchen.

  Her thoughts were definitely elsewhere, and she barely noticed me as I left the turret with Meatball and hurried back down the stone staircase, making sure I dashed past the cold spots without stopping to inspect them.

  I shouldn’t dwell on Lady Philippa’s unsettling prediction about a death. Maybe she saw things from her turret that other people missed. She had a pair of high-powered binoculars perched on a window ledge that she used to watch the goings on in the grounds. Could she have spooked herself by staring at too many shadows? Maybe the castle ghost rumors were getting to her too.

  Lady Philippa wasn’t conjuring up curses or making bad things happen to people. That was impossible, wasn’t it?

  After putting Meatball in his kennel with the promise of a delicious supper once I was finished for the evening, I neatly laid out the desserts I’d prepared.

  There was no one else in the kitchen while I worked, which was unusual. There was usually some sort of activity going on. It was either preparation for the next day or people hurrying around getting the family’s evening meal ready. Then I remembered, it was games night.

  All the staff got together for an evening off once a week, all thanks to the Duchess. It was a long-held tradition in the castle going back hundreds of years. There were tables laid out with different games in one of the parlors. Some were card games, others board games. It was a fun way for the staff to relax after the often hectic and busy activities of the day.

  And once a year, the castle residents even served the staff. It was a complete role reversal, as the Duchess and her family provided the food and served the drinks, but that wasn’t happening for months.

  I didn’t feel like joining in games night. I wanted a quiet night with just me and Meatball, especially after the shock revelation from Lady Philippa about death coming to the castle.

  Given the lack of serving staff around, I had no choice but to set the desserts on a trolley, along with plates, napkins, and cutlery, and walk into the main castle to discover where Rupert and his friends were.

  It didn’t take many minutes before I heard raucous laughter coming from the games room. I knocked on the door and waited.

  It was opened a few seconds later. Rupert smiled broadly, his cheeks flushed as he stood there with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

  “Holly! Of course, it’s dessert time. Do come in.” He stood back, and I walked into the room.

  There were four men in there, along with Rupert, all around his age. They exuded the kind of confident aura that came with an expensive education and a moneyed background.

  “Set the desserts on the table,” Rupert said. “Everyone, I’ve been telling you all about Holly’s wonderful desserts. It looks like she’s surpassed herself this evening. She’s an absolute wizard in the kitchen.”

  I flushed under his praise as I pushed the trolley in and laid everything out.

  “That looks delicious.” A tall lean man with dark floppy hair strode over and winked at me. “Rupert forgot to mention how sweet you appear to be as well.”

  A startled laugh shot out of Rupert. “Steady on. Holly’s here to work.”

  “And I bet she obeys all your orders.” The man stepped closer.

  “That’s enough, Kendal. Leave the woman alone.” A shorter, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and stubble shook his head as he approached and looked at the desserts. “Ignore him. He has no manners when he sees something he wants.”

  I forced a smile as Kendal did his best to invade my personal space. I resisted the urge to stamp on his foot and tell him to back off as I passed him a plate.

  Rupert cleared his throat. “Holly, this is Kendal Jakes and Christian Knightsbridge. We went to school together and even shared the same dorm. It was great fun.”

  “It wasn’t all that great.” Another guy joined them and selected a brownie. He had sandy brown hair and brilliant green eyes. “We had to listen to Tony’s snoring for the whole year.”

  The only man not to join us as he lounged in a leather armchair chuckled loudly. “I do not snore.”

  “You absolutely do,” the guy with the sandy hair said.

  Rupert nodded. “I’m afraid you do, Tony.” He smiled at me. “And this is Simon Napleton. He was head of our school house. The chap sitting down is Anthony Bambridge.”

  Simon nodded as he ate one of my cakes. “This sure beats the food we were served at Eton.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” I took a step back, eager to return to the sanctuary of the kitchen and away from Kendal’s lecherous glances.

  “Don’t leave so soon.” Kendal caught hold of my arm. “We’ve yet to sample your delights.”

  “Haven’t you got enough on your plate?” Christian threw a muscular arm around Kendal’s shoulder.

  Kendal glared at him and dropped his hold on my arm. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “The last I heard, you had a married woman on the go and were seeing Izzie Northcott. You don’t want to take on the kitchen assistant as well.”

  “Holly’s not a kitchen assistant,” Rupert said swiftly. “She’s a skilled baker. We’re lucky to have her.”

  “Yeah?” Kendal looked at him and smirked. “Just how lucky have you gotten with her?”

  My lips pursed, and I took a step back. “If you’ll excuse me. I have work to do.”

  “Don’t go.” Kendal placed a hand over his heart. “I miss you already.”

  Rupert’s gaze was apologetic as he hurried to the door with me. “I’m so sorry about that. They’ve all had a bit to drink. I promise you, their manners aren’t usually this bad.”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t the first time I’d encountered men of privilege who thought they were entitled to everything they took a liking to. “I’m happy to provide you with the desserts, but that’s all.”

  His cheeks grew bright pink, and he stuttered out several half words. “Oh! Of course. The thought never entered my head. I didn’t bring you here for ... that. I mean, not that you aren’t attractive. I’ve always admired your dark eyes. You’re very beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have you. I mean ... oh dear, I think I may have had too much to drink as well. Sorry. I should stick to the soft stuff.”

  I accepted his bumbled apology with a nod. “Really, it’s not a problem. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I slid out the door and closed it behind me before letting out a sigh. Rupert thought I was beautiful. That shouldn’t make me smile, but it did.

  I spotted Duke Henry Audley and Duchess Isabella Audley walking toward me.

  The Duke and Duchess were Rupert and Alice’s aunt and uncle. Their father, George Audley, had left them in their care while he traveled. A journey which had taken almost twenty years to complete and was still ongoing according to the village gossip.

  I wasn’t surprised to see them this time of the evening. They stayed in their private quarters during the day when the tourists were wandering about, but it wasn’t unusual to find them taking a stroll around the castle in the evening.

 
Duke Audley was a tall, imposing man with dark hair shot through with gray. He had a long regal nose and intelligent blue eyes. Sadly, his actual intelligence had gone missing somewhere along the way. He’d often talk as if we still lived in Victorian times when staff were nothing more than glorified slaves at the beck and call of their master.

  Fortunately, Duchess Isabella Audley had her head screwed on the right way and was the real power in this household. She was possibly one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. She was tall and elegant and seemed to glide as she walked. She had porcelain skin and large blue eyes that always held interest and warmth whenever she spoke.

  “Good evening, Holly.” Duchess Isabella smiled at me. “You’re working late tonight.”

  Before I got the chance to reply, the air was filled with frantic yapping. Four plump corgis bounded up to the Duke and Duchess.

  Duchess Isabella loved her dogs, so I’d known right away we’d get along. Unfortunately, the castle corgis were spoiled, overindulged brats who bullied Meatball whenever they saw him. Don’t get me wrong, he held his own, but four against one would never be a fair fight.

  The corgis came to a stop by the Duchess’s heel, guarding her as if she were at risk by talking to a servant. Their beady eyes fixed on me, waiting for me to make a wrong move.

  “I’m just providing the desserts for Lord Rupert’s evening with his friends,” I said.

  “Ah! Of course. I’d forgotten he’d invited them for a few days. Does it appear to be going well?” she asked.

  “Of course it will be going well,” Duke Audley said in his usual thin, distracted sounding voice. “Our nephew knows how to entertain.”

  The Duchess patted his arm. “Of course. Although I recall him having a tough time with those boys when they were at Eton.”

  “Stuff and nonsense,” the Duke said. “Rupert can make friends with anybody. And everyone will want to be his friend, given his position.”

  “Which isn’t always a good thing.” The Duchess smiled indulgently at her husband as he drifted off to look at an oil painting on the wall. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but Rupert had a difficult time when he was younger. He’s such a sensitive soul. He feels very deeply, and that’s a difficult thing for a teenage boy, especially when he’s surrounded by other boys. I often worried that he might have been bullied at school.”

  My mouth twisted to the side. Sadly, I could imagine that happening. He did have a gentle manner. Rupert genuinely cared about other people’s well-being. It was a rare trait.

  “Was this my great-grandfather?” the Duke asked.

  “No, my sweet. That was the Lord Chancellor. He was your second cousin.” She discreetly shook her head. “There are so many portraits of friends and relatives littered around the castle, it’s difficult to remember who everyone is.” She patted my arm. “How’s everything in the kitchens? Making more delicious treats to spoil us with?”

  “We’re keeping busy,” I said. “I’m working on perfecting an old recipe I found. I thought it might be nice to serve some traditional food in the café.”

  “Traditional food?” Her nose wrinkled. “I fear traditional British food isn’t up to much. It makes me think of lumpy oatmeal and overcooked vegetables.”

  I chuckled. “Well, technically, this is an import. It’s a recipe for Roman honey bread. The problem is, I’ve tried several variations of recipes and nothing works. I feel like I’m missing something vital.”

  “If you wish to use our private library to conduct your research you’re very welcome,” the Duchess said. “We have a wide catalog of recipe books. They simply sit there gathering dust. It would be wonderful if somebody made use of them.”

  “I’d love that. Only if it’s not an inconvenience to you.” The castle library contained over three thousand books, many of them rare and valuable.

  “Of course not.” She smiled again. “And if I get to sample the finished product, I would be more than happy. You may consider that your payment for using our library.”

  “It’s a deal. I’ll happily make you as many Roman honey breads as you desire.”

  “And this chap is the ...” The Duke stared at another picture.

  “I’d better go,” the Duchess said, “before my lovely husband forgets his own name.” She hurried away, accompanied by the yapping corgis.

  Her words about Rupert being bullied stayed with me as I walked back to the kitchen. He was a kind man. He deserved so much better than that. I hoped his friends weren’t being mean to him this evening.

  I shook my head. I shouldn’t be thinking about Rupert in that way. Baking was my one true love. And, of course, Meatball. As I’d said to Lady Philippa, I had no room in my life for a relationship. Even though I occasionally felt a little lonely.

  Thinking about Meatball, I was overdue giving him the supper I’d promised him.

  I slowed as a movement in the main courtyard caught my eye. There was a flash of something pale that vanished the second I stepped closer to take a look.

  I rubbed my arms as a shudder ran down my spine. It was nothing. It didn’t have anything to do with Lady Philippa’s prediction about trouble for Rupert. There were no mysterious figures lurking outside. And even if there were, the security team sweeping the grounds would pick them up. Campbell would make sure of it.

  I had nothing to worry about. This was real life, not some spooky murder mystery.

  Chapter 6

  I swiped my hand across my forehead and let out an exhausted sigh. It was the end of another long day of cake deliveries and baking, and after yesterday being so busy, I was more than ready for a hot bath and an early night.

  Meatball had other ideas. He bounced by the back door of the kitchen as I sat at the table, sipping on a welcome mug of tea.

  Given how small he was, you’d think he didn’t need long walks, but I had a feeling he was crossed with something like a terrier. That gave him boundless amounts of energy, and he loved nothing more than romping around for hours outside.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to put your paws up and have an early night?” I asked.

  “Woof.” That was a definite doggy no. He continued to bounce by the door, leaping up in the hope he’d be able to open it for himself if he could just get high enough.

  I had to keep a lookout for Chef Heston. Most of the staff had clocked off for the evening, but he was prowling around somewhere. If he realized I’d snuck Meatball in the kitchen while I had a five-minute break, he’d go mad.

  Meatball knew his place though and stayed on the mat by the back door. He’d heard Chef Heston yell at people one too many times to know he didn’t want to get in his way.

  “Woof woof.” Meatball pawed at the door.

  My gaze went to the window. The sun was just dipping below the tree line. A pale peach bloom filtered across a gentle layer of thin white cloud.

  “Okay, we can go for a walk.” I finished my tea, placed the mug in the dishwasher, and headed outside.

  I took Meatball’s leash with me, although he rarely needed it when we were in the grounds. I only used it when he was in the bicycle basket to make sure he was safely attached. And he was well-behaved, always returning when I called him. Well, he returned nine times out of ten. I called that a win.

  We wandered around the side of the castle, passing the ornate rose garden full of fragrant blooms, and walked past the dozens of clipped hedgerows shaped into beautiful patterns of diamonds, circles, and arches.

  I stopped and tilted my head. High-pitched yapping sounded nearby. I grimaced. “Meatball! This way.” We headed in the opposite direction. I didn’t want to run into the castle’s evil corgis this evening. Meatball did enjoy a good dustup with those spoiled dogs, but he didn’t always come out on top when they ganged up on him in a furry, spiteful pack.

  Meatball raced ahead, his ears up and his little legs flying. He disappeared around the corner, and I ambled after him, not in any hurry. My leg muscles ached from all the cycling I’d
done today. A gentle walk was about all I could manage.

  “Woof woof.” From the higher pitch of Meatball’s bark, he’d found something or someone he was happy about.

  Two more barks came, followed by a high-pitched giggle.

  I smiled as I recognized that laugh. I turned the corner and shook my head as Princess Alice scooped Meatball into her arms and hugged him.

  “He might have muddy paws.” I strolled toward them.

  Princess Alice wore a beautiful long white dress that would no longer be pristine thanks to Meatball’s enthusiastic squirming as he tried to lick her heart-shaped face.

  “Don’t worry about this old thing.” She kissed Meatball on the head several times before placing him back on the ground, where he bounced around her ankles with delight. “I always have to cuddle this adorable fluffy beast whenever we meet.”

  Alice had inherited the family traits of blonde hair, which she wore down to her waist, and sparkling blue eyes. She was curvier than Duchess Isabella, thanks to her love of sneaking into the kitchen and sampling the treats we put out for the castle customers.

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked.

  She gestured to the easel behind her. “Getting in some drawing practice. Mommy says I have to be an accomplished woman in the arts. Drawing, painting, needlepoint, music, and singing. And don’t get me started on the dancing. We’ve got a whole summer of balls ahead of us and I still haven’t mastered the foxtrot. My instructor told me I have two left feet.”

  I glanced over her shoulder at the easel. There were several crooked looking blue flowers and what might be a large black stick on the paper.

  Alice groaned. “I know, isn’t it terrible? Some people don’t have an artistic eye. I’m always telling Mommy that. She never listens. Drawing is so yawnsville. What’s the point in it?”

  I smiled as Alice continued to extol all the reasons why she shouldn’t learn to draw.