‘This was the dairy, when we made our own cheese,’ the landlord, whose name was Titus Clarke, explained. ‘Now it is where Hannah works.’
The room’s present occupant was evidently a tidy worker: kitchen implements, rolling pins and so on, were neatly stowed along one wall, whUe bowls were stacked beneath the table. Trays of eggs were covered with a fly-cloth, and a sack of flour had been placed inside a raised drum for added protection from flooding or mice.
Tt will do very well,’ I said, gazing around. ‘How much do you want for the lease.>’
The landlord looked somewhat anxious. ‘To share it.> There is room for you both—’
I shook my head. ‘I must have complete privacy.’
‘Well, I am sure Hannah will understand,’ he said nervously. ‘After all, the king must have his ices. I will speak to her this afternoon.’
I had my chests taken downstairs, unpacked my things, and immediately began work on an ice of quinces. I had just reached the stage at which I was pouring crushed ice into the sabotiere when the curtain which served for a door was pulled back, and a woman of about thirty wearing an apron came in. By her side was the bootboy, Elias.
‘What are you doing?’ she demanded.
Hastily, I covered the mixture with a cloth. ‘That is none of your concern.’
‘Indeed it is,’ she retorted, ‘since Titus informs me that whatever it is, it means that I must leave my pantry.’
‘I am His Majesty’s confectioner,’ I told her, somewhat surprised by her tone. ‘The work I do here is confidential.’
‘And the work I do here can be done nowhere else. Making pastry requires cold, as I’m sure you are aware, and the main kitchen is much too hot.’
Behind her, the landlord was edging into the room, clearly anxious to avoid a confrontation. ‘Now, Hannah, the gentleman has leased the room from me, and there is an end to it.’
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‘Very well,’ she said with a shrug. ‘In that case, there is an end to my pies. Elias, fetch me a bag.’ She began to take her rolling pins off their hooks. The landlord looked at me apologetically, as if to say that he regretted the interruption but everything was sorted now.
‘Wait,’ I said to the woman. ‘You are the pie maker?’
‘I was,’ she agreed. ‘Not any more, it seems.’
I now found myself in something of a quandary. For the fact of the matter, as I have said, was that the Lion’s pies were one of the principal reasons why I wished to remain there, and the thought of being deprived of them was decidedly unwelcome.
‘How long do you need the room for?’ I asked.
‘An hour or two each day, first thing.’
I made a decision. There was, surely, no danger in letting a servant use the room occasionally. ‘Very well. You may continue to make your pies here.’
To my surprise, she did not thank me, but simply folded her arms across her chest, as if waiting for the catch.
‘That is all,’ I added.
‘I won’t pay you rent,’ she said. ‘Titus already takes more than enough profit on the pies.’
‘Then you can repay me by doing some work, cleaning my pans and so on. And you,’ I beckoned to the boy, ‘how would you like to be my assistant? I will need someone to grate m.y blocks of ice every morning.’
His eyes grew round. ‘Will I wear a fine coat like yours?’
I laughed. ‘Indeed not, for you will not come to court. But I will pay you a penny every week.’
He nodded. ‘Ail right.’
‘Then that is settled. But you must both of you take a solemn oath that you will never reveal anything of what you see in here. The process is a secret one, and I intend that it shall remain so. Titus, would you fetch me a bible?’
Once again, I was surprised by their reactions to this simple
request. For they neither of them moved, and in the woman’s eyes there was - unless I was mistaken - a look of blazing defiance.
‘For the oath,’ I explained. ‘You must swear on the bible that you will tell no one how I make my ices.’
The landlord was wringing his hands. ‘If I might explain, sir, Hannah’s position on the matter—’
‘I am perfecdy capable of explaining myself,’ the woman interrupted. ‘We do not take oaths.’
I looked at her, baffled. ‘No oaths? Why not?’
‘First, because we do not use God as a kind of superstitious talisman or bogeyman with which to frighten credulous people. And second, because an oath implies allegiance to an authority higher than our own conscience.’
‘But if you do not swear, I cannot employ you,’ I pointed out.
‘Then you cannot employ me,’ she said simply. ‘I am sorry for it, but there you are. I will tell you now that I will not betray your confidence: but as for swearing, I will not.’
‘I see.’ I had never before been confronted by a situation such as this. Yet again it was borne in on me that France and Italy, for all that they were separated by the Alps, had far more in common than either had with this strange island just twenty miles off the coast of France.
She gestured at the walls. ‘Well? Do you want me to remove my implements or not?’
‘Leave them for the time being. I will have to think about this. In the meantime you can do some work for me, and we will see how you get on.’
‘I am to be on trial?’
‘Exactly.’
She shrugged. ‘Very well.’ She made it sound as if she was agreeing terms, rather than accepting a command from an employer. I wondered if all domestic servants in England were so lacking in deference. If so, it was a wonder anything got done.
*
The small amount of fresh ice I had brought with me from France was quickly exhausted. Even if the king had not suggested it, I would have needed to inspect his ice house.
St James’s Park was a pleasant enough place, although of course nothing in comparison to Marly or Versailles. In the middle, aligned with the windows of the king’s apaftments, was a long, thin lake, only a little wider than a canal. Trees and copses dotted the parklands, in the natural style, and here and there a few deer grazed. But everywhere I noticed projects abandoned or halfbuilt. A folly in the French style was still lacking a roof. A road, heading out to the west, started grandly between two stone gateposts but petered out after a hundred yards. And the wall encircling the park ran only halfway round, so that anyone who wanted to could enter without hindrance.
The ice house was at the northern side, near Piccadilly Hall, in a slight dip and under some trees - the worst possible location. However, the brick path that wound to the doorway was serviceable enough, and the door was of a sensible size - low, small, and facing north. It was, however, ajar.
I had taken the precaution of bringing with me a bundle of
tapers, to provide light, but I need not have bothered; a certain
amount of daylight found its way under the roof, and there was
%
already a lit taper set into one wall. Even so, I stepped ankle-deep straight into slushy, icy water. Drawing back my foot with a curse, I realised that I was not alone.
‘We must have straw, John,’ a voice was saying on the other side of the ice. ‘Straw in bales, to pack around the edges. But straw will rot in this wet, so first the floor will have to be drained.’
‘We drained it three weeks ago,’ a rougher voice replied. ‘And straw, surely, will make it even warmer.’
Footsteps were splashing through the water tpwards me. I still could not see anyone, because my view across the circular chamber was blocked by the stack of ice.
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The first voice sighed. ‘Straw has the property of keeping a warm place warm, certainly. But it will also keep a cold place cold.’
‘So in effect, it becomes the warmth which is kept outside, not the cold inside.^’ a woman’s voice asked.
‘I had not thought of it that way, but yes - that is essentially correct, Elizabeth,’ the first man replied.