For "Not so silent service"
There is nothing as good as a good meal
Nobody was ever allowed into Henri's kitchen in Darcy House. As he stated it, "Henri means King, or ruler, and I am the King in my kitchen!" So when the new, petite Mrs. Darcy walked boldly into Henri's domain, everyone cringed. Nobody expected what followed.
AN: A long time ago I watched a Korean period drama titled Jewel in the Palace, which began with a girl learning how to cook in the palace kitchen. There was a great amount of emphasis on the impact of food on health, especially for those who, like royalty, eat a lot of rich foods. The series got soap-opera-ish at times, but it did get me to thinking about that issue... which is the catalyst for this story, begun as one of my first writing endeavors for FF, then never developed. I am no cook. I try, but real chefs would scoff at my best efforts. If any of the readers are true cooks with knowledge about health and food, please feel free to turn this story into something more. I would love to read it.
Darcy House, January, 1813
Darcy and Elizabeth married at the very end of July in the year 1812. For the first few months they devoted themselves to each other and to learning how to work as a team in running both a vast estate and a palatial home in London. Not even the long holiday visit of the remaining Bennet family could disturb the new shine on their happy marriage. Now it was January and the beginning of the Parliamentary season. With three pocket boroughs under his control along with the power that Darcy's wealth, properties, and connections afforded, Darcy was often embroiled in matters of policy and politics, whether he wished to be or not.
Such was the case that late January when the new Prime Minister of Great Britain, Robert Jenkinson, Lord Liverpool, asked Darcy to host a series of dinners where discussions were conducted on many divisive issues.
It fell to Elizabeth Darcy, as hostess, to make the visits of these great men as comfortable as possible... and as productive. Having been trained from her earliest years to observe, she noted several personal problems which might get in the way of that productivity.
After four months as Mrs. Darcy, Elizabeth had managed to win over most of the staffs at both Pemberley and Darcy House. Not even the long, loud, and oftentimes contentious Christmas visit by Elizabeth's mother, the Francine Bennet, could detract from their high opinions of their new mistress. There was one distinct hold-out, however.
Henri Duvall, the French chef at Darcy House, did not welcome Mrs. Darcy to his kitchen. It was not due to any lack on Elizabeth's part. It had nothing to do with her former status as the daughter of a mere country squire. Henri would not have welcomed Queen Charlotte were she to have the audacity to step over the invisible demarcation line which marked the beginning of his domain. Nobody was ever allowed into Henri's kitchen in Darcy House. As he stated it, "Henri means King, or ruler, and I am the King in my kitchen!" Even Mr. Darcy knew that he had surrendered all authority in his kitchen as the price for such fine cuisine.
So when the new, petite Mrs. Darcy walked boldly into Henri's domain, everyone cringed. Even Mrs. Best, the formidable housekeeper of Darcy House for over three decades, feared the worst. But Elizabeth Darcy had a need and a plan. "Monsieur Duvall, I am in quite desperate need of expertise which only you are qualified to offer."
This was definitely not what Henri was expecting. In the four decades in which he ruled over the kitchen of Darcy House more than one lady had attempted to cow him. Lady Anne, for all her beauty, grace, and good manners, had shared a love-hate relationship with the chef. His dishes were so superior that the table at Darcy House was always praised, but the mistress was not best-pleased with the man. Later, Lady Susan Fitzwilliam, the Countess of Matlock, tried her hand at establishing the proper order of things. He won the day again. Even that termagant, Lady Catherine de Bourg, knew to keep her distance. If this little creature thought she could sweet-talk him into submission, then she would be disappointed.
Henri allowed her to speak. "I know that you've heard about my mother. And I admit that she can be difficult at times, but she had a reputation for setting one of the finest tables in our county. She has always told us that 'a good chef can be as important for a person's health as any doctor'."
Henri had to twist his lips as he mused. This was very true. In fact, this was something that his parents taught him. He let the lady continue, "I know that before the unpleasantness in your country, you attended one of the finest cooking schools in the world, so I am hoping that you could help me solve a few problems for our guests. Traditionally, we would just set out the courses one-by-one and hope that all are satisfied... but with your superior expertise I am hoping that we might try something different."
Henri knew he was being sweet-talked, but he was also curious, so he prompted, "And what is it that you require my expertise with, Mrs. Darcy?"
She pulled out several sheets of foolscap with carefully written observations about her various guests. It seemed the Lord Liverpool himself had dyspepsia. Elizabeth had observed Lord Abernathy often rubbed the area over his heart after eating. Lord Dover's elocution seemed to suffer for at least an hour after eating. Sir Howard Hemphill's nose turned red after eating anything with spices, though he enjoyed them. The list went on.
Henri recognized the potential causes for many of these problems. His assistant's watched in amazement as their temperamental chef sat down at the staff's table with the petite miss and they engaged in an earnest discussion about potential causes and cures. When Elizabeth was satisfied with the answers, she then presented the next problem, "Now, Sir, the problem: how do we get these great men to submit to your higher knowledge on what they should and should not eat? They are all more used to telling others what to do than being told... I know!
"With your permission, I shall invoke your name as the foremost expert on such matters! I shall meet with each and suggest my concern first and then your expert solution. I believe that I can cajole them into attempting your cure for at least one or two meals. When they see how much better they feel, then we shall press on from there! Thank you, Henri! You are a marvel!"
Henri shook his head as he watched the enchanting creature departing his kingdom. He had just been conquered. He knew as much. But he could not even begrudge her the victory. She had earned it.
As hoped, over the next several days of this working house party the health of several great men improved, as did their tempers. By the second week in February several pressing issues had been resolved to the general satisfaction of the various rivals. Best of all, they returned to their own homes and pursuits feeling much better than they ever had before after such sessions. One and all agreed that Mrs. Darcy and Darcy House were a triumph!
In the ensuing years Fitzwilliam Darcy was requested to host many similar working parties. He grumpily acquiesced, teasingly blaming his dear Elizabeth for this hardship. While a great many deals were still reached in smoky back rooms, many others were achieved while enjoying healthy meals at Darcy House. Lord Liverpool himself claimed that the Darcy House chef had extended his life by at least a decade.
Henri Duvall and Elizabeth Darcy formed a formidable partnership after that first meeting. Though she never condoned gossip in her vicinity, she did institute a policy wherein the servants would report certain health concerns that they observed. If the issue was something which could be addressed with food, then the lady of the house and the curmudgeonly chef would meet and discuss it. If not, then a gently spoken word in the right ear might result in a visit to a physician.
Many guests left Darcy House feeling much better than when they entered. They also often took the solutions with them back to their own homes. Their own cooks, those who were willing to learn, would often call on Henri in the hopes of learning more. Even a few physicians with open minds took the opportunity to talk food with the irascible chef. Henri would grumble and grouse, but it was nice to be truly valued and acknowledged for his craft.
Henri continued to rule his domain for two more decades before he surrendered his post to his grandson. By that time Henri's reputation had spread far and wide. Even some of the best chefs in London might be heard to intone: "Henri Duvall says that..."
Henri's dear wife Cherise preceded him in death by five years. She often teased him, saying that he had a tendre for the pretty Mrs. Darcy. He just kissed his beloved and took the time to prove where his affections truly lay.
Yet even in his final years Henri would light up whenever a certain much younger woman walked boldly into his kitchen.