MRS. POMEROY SURVEYED the table. All the dishes that could be pre-plated were ready. What needed to be kept warm or cold was on the stove or in the icebox, their serving plates garnished and ready for the final preparation. “We’re as ready as we can be. All right. Ross, do not drink another drop. Cassie, just stay by the dumbwaiter and hand the courses to Ross. I think he’s sober enough to manage it.”
“Right.” I glanced at Ross. He was still upright; that was something, at least.
Mrs. Albright handed me a fresh apron and a lace cap. As I was changing, we heard the clock strike the quarter hour.
Mrs. Pomeroy picked up a tea towel. “All right. Let’s begin. I’ll send the first course up in five minutes. Ross, make certain you give Mr. Ainsworth the mousse with three sprigs of parsley. He’s allergic to shellfish, so I used olives on that one.”
Ross nodded.
“You understand, or are you just nodding?”
“Three parsley or Ainsworth blows up like a puffer fish.”
“All right then, Ross, we’re ready for you to sound the gong.” Mrs. Pomeroy leaned over my shoulder. “Keep an eye on him.”
“Right.” I grabbed the wine decanters to keep them away from Ross and started up the stairs. Ross followed me up with the serving tray. We parted at the first landing. Ross went to the front hall for the gong. I continued up to the pantry beside the dining room.
~ * ~ * ~
In the butler's pantry, I arranged the wine on the sideboard and listened for the gong. It happened at precisely five ‘til.
As the last echoes faded, I heard the guests coming up the stairs, but there was no sign of Ross. I peered into the dining room. It was a narrow room with just enough space for a table and chairs, a small fireplace, and very little else. The curtains had been drawn, blocking out the lightning from the storm. The guests were arranging themselves around the table. Mr. Carrollton was at the head, Mr. Ainsworth to his right, and Mrs. Delford beside him. At the other end of the table was a fashionable young woman in a cream and pale-peach dress with puffed sleeves and a long train that she was arranging around her chair. I assumed she was Miss Carrollton. Mr. Sharma was beside her, and Mr. Warland on the other side of him, to Mr. Carrollton’s left. Not the most balanced of dinner parties, but then it was probably a bit of a business dinner. Maybe it didn't matter so much. Or maybe they were discussing confidential matters.
My speculations were interrupted by Ross stumbling up the staircase. He stopped in the dining room door, realized he shouldn’t go that way, and came round to the pantry door. He didn’t say anything to me, just grabbed a plate of appetizers that were so small I couldn’t identify what any of them were and put it on the tray he was carrying. I stepped aside so he could go through the dining room.
I arranged the wine bottles until I heard the dumbwaiter slide into place with the first course. I got the tray of mousse fish out and looked them over quickly, but they were all intact. Mrs. Albright had either managed better without me or managed to hide whatever went wrong with them. Either way, I brought them to the serving table and waited for Ross to be ready to bring them out.
Ross came back with his empty tray and left it on the table. He grabbed the nearest decanter of wine. I reached for it. “Mrs. Pomeroy…”
Ross looked up and seemed to notice me for the first time. “I’m not drinking it. I’m just going to serve it. You can watch if you like. Or measure the bottle.”
I sighed. “Just be careful.”
He nodded and went back to the dining room. I transferred the plates of mousse to the serving tray and brought it to the door to wait for Ross. I met him as soon as he came through the door and stared at him until he put the half-empty decanter down on the table and took the tray of mousse from me.
As soon as Ross had started serving, I took the wine and left it by the dumbwaiter where I could keep Ross away from it. Then I went to the dining room door to keep an eye on things.
Ross was bringing the tray around very carefully. He seemed steady enough as he passed out the plates, but every time he moved from chair to chair, he wobbled in a way that made me wonder if I should dart out and grab the tray. But somehow he managed to make it all the way around and back to the pantry. He put the empty tray on the table and went straight for the silver cupboard. I wanted to check what he was doing there, but I heard the dumbwaiter creak to life.
Mrs. Pomeroy sent the salad up in several parts. The dressing first, then the garnish, then the lettuce, and finally the platter of tomato roses that would be the centerpiece of each dish. Ross was still at the silver cupboard, so I was left to arrange the plates on the serving tray, add the dressing, and garnish the plates as well as I could.
Ross crossed back to the table just as I was finishing and stumbled into the chair by my elbow, causing me to splash the dressing all over the tray. Ross took a tea towel and tried to mop it up. He managed to make it worse.
“I’ll do that. Go see if they’re ready for this.”
I couldn't tell if Ross was too many sheets to the wind or not really paying attention, but he didn’t object to me ordering him around. I was just getting the tray ready to go out when Ross came back with the cleared plates. He managed to get them to the table, but almost dropped them into the wash basin. I didn’t think I heard anything break, so I ignored it and picked up the new tray.
Ross reached for the tray, and I caught a whiff of alcohol. He was hiding it somewhere in the room. “I’ll carry this, and you can serve from it.”
He muttered something about “maid in the dining room,” but he led the way without complaining out loud. I walked behind him with the tray and hung back as he handed out the plates.
As I followed Ross around the table, I could hear Mr. Warland’s voice raised. “I told you, Sharma, there's nothing to find.”
“I did not intend to—”
“Gentlemen,” Mr. Ainsworth broke in, “let’s save the discussion of business until after dinner, when the ladies have retired.”
Mrs. Delford raised her eyebrow.
Miss Carrollton said, “I don't mind hearing about business.”
But Mr. Sharma shook his head “No, no, Mr. Ainsworth is correct. We should discuss something more suitable at the table. I saw the most amusing play on Saturday...”
Somehow, Ross managed to make it all the way around the table and back to the pantry without spilling on any of the guests, although there were more than a few near-misses.
Back in the pantry, Ross’s gaze went to the silver cupboard before I’d even put the tray down. I knew if I wanted him to stay sober enough to cope, I had to keep him away from whatever he was keeping in there. The best way to do that seemed to be to keep him busy. He didn’t seem to mind taking orders, so I said, “I'll sort out the soup service. You can get the serving things tidied away.”
I didn't wait for him to answer but grabbed a tray and placed it on the ledge on the front of the silver cabinet. I set up the bowls as slowly as I could, but Ross made no move to approach the silver cupboard.
When we went back into the dining room, Miss Carrollton was bent towards Mr. Sharma, deep in conversation about the latest piano recital she’d attended. Mr. Warland was trying to say something about it, but had clearly never seen the concert in question. Mr. Ainsworth was ignoring his own admonition and discussing the Clawton file he'd brought with Mr. Carrollton. Mrs. Delford was sitting quietly, her finger tapping on the table like she was desperate to be taking notes on the discussion.
Ross brought the soup to the head of the table again. He managed to serve it without spilling on any of the guests, although I didn’t think the tablecloth was quite so fortunate, and I was quite certain that I heard Mrs. Delford give a disapproving click. In spite of all of that, Ross made it all the way round the table back to the pantry door without my help.
I took the serving tray from him and was stepping back to the dumbwaiter when it happened.