From Both Sides
"Mrs Patmore, could I trouble you to make up a basket for tonight? Mr Carson wants to dine at the cottage again." Mrs Hughes sounded rather as though she were making the arrangements for her own execution.
The cook paused in her efforts with the rolling pin and gave the other woman a sympathetic glance. "Oh, dear."
"My sentiments precisely."
"I'd've thought you'd have been pleased," Daisy offered as she hurried past, carrying a large jug of cream.
"Pleased?" Mrs Hughes' eyebrows rose.
"Yes." Having deposited her jug safely in the new refrigerator, Daisy condescended to explain her remark. "Mr Carson obviously wants to spend more time with you. I think it's sweet."
"Oh, do you, indeed?" Mrs Patmore confronted her assistant. "And who asked you?"
But Daisy was not to be cowed. "I'm only saying."
"Then don't say. If we want your opinion, we'll ask for it," Mrs Patmore scolded. "Now get on with what you're supposed to be doing, and don't meddle in conversations that don't concern you."
"I still think it's sweet," Daisy muttered defiantly as she stalked off, leaving Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore to exchange a significant look.
The housekeeper was the first to break the silence. "Well."
"Well." Mrs Patmore braced her hands on the table in front of her and leant forward, fixing her friend with a piercing gaze. "She's not wrong, is she?"
"No," Mrs Hughes sighed, steeling herself for the task ahead of her. "No, she's not wrong. So, you'd better tell me exactly how to cook whatever it is you're planning to give us; see if I can't learn to please him."
Sitting at the dining table in their cottage, Mr Carson watched in contentment as his wife prepared their evening meal. Although, he had to admit, events in the kitchen didn't look as though they were running too smoothly. His brow furrowed as he watched his wife push her hair out of her eyes as she once again bent over a lengthy list of instructions. Hmmm. Maybe he would have to have a word with Mrs Patmore about that. He would certainly feel compelled to point out that, while he didn't doubt Mrs Hughes' capability, Mrs Patmore at least had Daisy, an extra pair of hands to assist her.
That, however, was a task for the morrow. In the meantime, Mr Carson removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and, with some trepidation after his last disastrous attempt at cooking, offered a suggestion.
"This looks rather complicated. Might I be of some assistance?"
