AN: To those of you following the Pearl: thank you for your patience! The story will be finished before Christmas :)
This is a two-shot; the second part will be up later this week.
If you have any prompts for future drabbles, please feel free to send them in!
In an unusual move, the servants did not line up around the dining table, but walked towards the far end of the room. The last course was to be served on an immaculate, white-linen tablecloth in order to underscore the coloured buildings of which dessert consisted. Guests looked on in wonder, falling silent or uttering appreciation when they noticed what they were. This evening, the last line of trays carried a sparkling load of fruits; an exquisite display of ice making.
After people had collected their respective selections, the pleasant clinking of spoons and crystal resounded through the room. The fruit-like shapes at the buffet had made it possible to distinguish flavours, but no such luck from your seat. The colourful scoops in his flattened bowl became a mystery to Richard once he sat down again; who memorises what they are planning to eat? One by one he went over his choices, set on rediscovery. And red turned out to be cherry, green to stand for pear, or apple, depending on the tint, and orange signified melon or… oranges. He sampled the variety with pleasure, surprised by how pure the frozen bites tasted.
"Mrs Patmore has outdone herself tonight."
The Lady to his left murmured in agreement, but from his right no answer came. He felt Isobel shift, and lifted his gaze to find her with a frown on her head.
"I don't know this one."
Her spoon was empty, hovering in mid-air as she tried to name a particular savour. Her confusion made her appear lost, and Richard smiled at seeing her like that; he found it rather endearing.
"Which colour?"
"The yellow one."
He cast a look at her plate; he didn't have any yellow on his. The ice in question had a dark shade, not like anything he could remember from the buffet.
"Lemon?"
Isobel stared ahead absent-mindedly, drawing his attention to her lips when her tongue darted over them.
"No, it's not that…"
Richard cast a second, more deliberate look at her plate in an attempt to busy himself with the question at hand.
"How does it taste?"
"Well, it's sweet..."
Intent on finding out what kept escaping her, Isobel scooped up a second bite, and her eyes fluttered close in an effort to grasp the taste. She looked a picture and the man to her left tried in vain not to be distracted by it. Richard had acquired the habit to quell the longing this woman caused in him, but tonight she was radiant, and it proved difficult for him to ignore.
"... Like rosewater and sugar."
She nibbled the remnants off her lower lip, recognising a new sensation.
"And a bit like wine. Tart."
Her forehead was still creased when she opened her eyes again.
"What do you think it is?"
She looked at him blankly, unaware of the feelings her actions had evoked.
He blushed, offering a feeble answer. Trying to focus on her question.
"I wouldn't know."
She flashed a bright smile at him.
"In any case it does taste delicious…
What were you saying before? I think I interrupted you, Richard."
He shook his head, giving her an affectionate half-smile.
"Only that Mrs Patmore really has outdone herself this time."