Foxden Hotel (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 5) Madalyn Morgan (ebook smartphone .txt) 📖

James, growing up here and then being killed, were too distressing. James was a bomber pilot,’ Bess explained. ‘He was shot down over Germany.’

Bess winced at her own painful memory, then forced herself to continue brightly. ‘So, Lord Foxden entrusted the Hall to me.’ Bess saw the inspector’s eyes widen. ‘James was my fiancé and Lady Foxden said if James had lived we would have been married by now and Foxden Hall would have been our home. Frank and I couldn’t afford the upkeep of the Hall, even if I went back to full time teaching. So, Frank, Lord Foxden and I had a meeting and we came up with the Foxden Hotel.

‘Obviously we couldn’t do it on our own, we didn’t have the money, so Lord Foxden became our partner. He still owns the Hall, and he loaned us our share of the refurbishment costs, which we are paying him back. So, yes, I am proud. The Foxden Hotel is our business, our responsibility, and it is our home for as long as we want it.’

Bess was brought out of her reverie by Ena poking her head round the door. ‘Dinner’s ready. I’ve taken beef sandwiches up to Frank and I’ve sweet-talked Chef into finding enough food for me and Claire.’ Ena giggled. ‘He threw his hands in the air and said, after the guests have eaten, he’ll bring anything left over to the dining room and we can do with it what we want.’

Bess laughed out loud. ‘How did you manage that?’

‘I said we would do the washing up afterwards,’ Ena said, and ran.

Chef was as good as his word. When Bess and the inspector arrived in the dining room, there was so much food on the first non-reserved table that there was hardly room to sit and eat at it. A waitress brought in the inspector’s soup and placed it on the table that Bess had reserved for him, and Bess joined her sisters.

‘Any chance of me sitting with you?’ the inspector asked, with his bowl of soup in his hands. Bess got up and smiled apologetically at an elderly couple who had been enjoying their meal in the quiet, tranquil, atmosphere of an old English country house, until Ena and Claire entered and put a stop to it with their chattering.

Bess took a chair from the nearest vacant table and placed it next to hers. At the same time, Claire pushed several dishes of food closer together to make space for the inspector’s plate. ‘This is fun,’ the inspector said, to the grumpy couple on the next table who were looking down their noses at him. ‘Dinner with all my wives at the same time is such a rarity.’ Bess bit her lip, while Ena and Claire giggled. The miserable couple, Bess noticed, had found something interesting about their serviettes to talk about and were straightening them on their laps.

The inspector looked up at Bess from under bushy eyebrows. ‘Sorry,’ he chuckled, ‘I hope I haven’t lost you two future customers.’

Bess frowned at him and mouthed shush, but was unable to keep a straight face. ‘Eat your food while it’s hot, darling,’ she said, wagging her finger.

‘I’ll make it up to you,’ the inspector said, and called over a waitress. ‘A bottle of your best--’ He looked across the table at Ena and Claire who both suggested red, and Bess nodded in agreement. ‘Your best red, please.’

‘A good wine, Sylvie,’ Bess said pointedly. The waitress nodded that she had understood her boss, and went off to get a bottle of medium priced red wine. After going to the kitchen, for Chef to uncork it, Sylvie returned with the bottle and four glasses. She poured a little wine into the first glass and gave it to the inspector to taste. He took a sip, swished it about in his mouth and nodded his approval. Blushing, Sylvie filled each glass to just over a quarter, removed a dirty dish from the centre of the table, and put the wine in its place.

‘Excuse me, Mrs Donnelly,’ Sylvie said, ‘Chef would like to see you when you have a minute.’

‘Thank you, Sylvie. Tell him I’m on my way.’ Bess rose from the table with a sigh. ‘What now? I’ll be back in a jiffy,’ she said, leaving the dining room.

Opening the door to the kitchen, Bess came eye to eye with Mrs Sharp. Ignoring the woman, she looked across the kitchen to the chef. ‘You wanted me, Chef?’ He raised his hand and flicked a limp wrist in the direction of Foxden Hotel’s dish-washer.

‘It’s me as wanted to see you, Mrs Donnelly,’ Mrs Sharp said, looking down at her wedding ring and twisting it round her finger. Bess didn’t speak, but waited to be enlightened. ‘It’s my husband you see. He sent me to ask for my job back.’ Bess looked at the chef again, and he looked to the heavens and shrugged. ‘It were unforgivable of me to say what I said. I don’t know what come over me. But if you could find it in your heart to let me have my job back…’

‘It isn’t up to me, Mrs Sharp. Kitchen staff are Chef’s responsibility. If he is willing to forget the trouble you caused tonight, I am. But, and I think Chef will agree with me on this, there must be no more malicious gossip.’ Joan Sharp hung her head, but Bess felt she needed to drive the message home. ‘Listening to another person’s conversation, hearing only part of it and then repeating what you think they meant, can have terrible consequences. Apart from which, it is a very unkind thing to do.’ Joan Sharp looked as if she was about to burst into tears. ‘If it happens again, Chef won’t be so lenient with you.’

‘No-o, Mrs Donnelly.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Donnelly,’ Chef said, and Bess left the kitchen.