On making a roll-call of the gla.s.s, it was calculated that at least a dozen or so tumblers, four or five dozen wines, eight water-bottles, and a proper quant.i.ty of ice-plates, were requisite; and that, as they would always be useful, it would be best to purchase the articles immediately.
Fitz tumbled over the basket containing them, which stood in the hall as he came in from chambers, and over the boy who had brought them--and the little bill.
The women had had a long debate, and something like a quarrel, it must be owned, over the bill of fare. Mrs. Gashleigh, who had lived a great part of her life in Devonshire, and kept house in great state there, was famous for making some dishes, without which, she thought, no dinner could be perfect. When she proposed her mock-turtle, and stewed pigeons, and gooseberry-cream, Rosa turned up her nose--a pretty little nose it was, by the way, and with a natural turn in that direction.
"Mock-turtle in June, mamma!" said she.
"It was good enough for your grandfather, Rosa," the mamma replied: "it was good enough for the Lord High Admiral, when he was at Plymouth; it was good enough for the first men in the county, and relished by Lord Fortyskewer and Lord Rolls; Sir Lawrence Porker ate twice of it after Exeter races; and I think it might be good enough for--"
"I will NOT have it, mamma!" said Rosa, with a stamp of her foot; and Mrs. Gashleigh knew what resolution there was in that. Once, when she had tried to physic the baby, there had been a similar fight between them.
So Mrs. Gashleigh made out a carte, in which the soup was left with a dash--a melancholy vacuum; and in which the pigeons were certainly thrust in among the entrees; but Rosa determined they never should make an entree at all into HER dinner-party, but that she would have the dinner her own way.
When Fitz returned, then, and after he had paid the little bill of 6L.
14s. 6d. for the gla.s.s, Rosa flew to him with her sweetest smiles, and the baby in her arms. And after she had made him remark how the child grew every day more and more like him, and after she had treated him to a number of compliments and caresses, which it were positively fulsome to exhibit in public, and after she had soothed him into good humor by her artless tenderness, she began to speak to him about some little points which she had at heart.
She pointed out with a sigh how shabby the old curtains looked since the dear new gla.s.ses which her darling Fitz had given her had been put up in the drawing-room. Muslin curtains cost nothing, and she must and would have them.
The muslin curtains were accorded. She and Fitz went and bought them at Shoolbred"s, when you may be sure she treated herself likewise to a neat, sweet pretty half-mourning (for the Court, you know, is in mourning)--a neat sweet barege, or calimanco, or bombazine, or tiffany, or some such thing; but Madame Camille, of Regent Street, made it up, and Rosa looked like an angel in it on the night of her little dinner.
"And, my sweet," she continued, after the curtains had been accorded, "mamma and I have been talking about the dinner. She wants to make it very expensive, which I cannot allow. I have been thinking of a delightful and economical plan, and you, my sweetest Fitz, must put it into execution."
"I have cooked a mutton-chop when I was in chambers," Fitz said with a laugh. "Am I to put on a cap and an ap.r.o.n?"
"No: but you are to go to the "Megatherium Club" (where, you wretch, you are always going without my leave), and you are to beg Monsieur Mirobolant, your famous cook, to send you one of his best aides-de-camp, as I know he will, and with his aid we can dress the dinner and the confectionery at home for ALMOST NOTHING, and we can show those purse-proud Topham Sawyers and Rowdys that the HUMBLE COTTAGE can furnish forth an elegant entertainment as well as the gilded halls of wealth."
Fitz agreed to speak to Monsieur Mirobolant. If Rosa had had a fancy for the cook of the Prime Minister, I believe the deluded creature of a husband would have asked Lord John for the loan of him.
IV.
Fitzroy Timmins, whose taste for wine is remarkable for so young a man, is a member of the committee of the "Megatherium Club," and the great Mirobolant, good-natured as all great men are, was only too happy to oblige him. A young friend and protege of his, of considerable merit, M. Cavalcadour, happened to be disengaged through the lamented death of Lord Hauncher, with whom young Cavalcadour had made his debut as an artist. He had nothing to refuse to his master, Mirobolant, and would impress himself to be useful to a gourmet so distinguished as Monsieur Timmins. Fitz went away as pleased as Punch with this encomium of the great Mirobolant, and was one of those who voted against the decreasing of Mirobolant"s salary, when the measure was proposed by Mr. Parings, Colonel Close, and the Screw party in the committee of the club.
Faithful to the promise of his great master, the youthful Cavalcadour called in Lilliput Street the next day. A rich crimson velvet waistcoat, with b.u.t.tons of blue gla.s.s and gold, a variegated blue satin stock, over which a graceful mosaic chain hung in glittering folds, a white hat worn on one side of his long curling ringlets, redolent with the most delightful hair-oil--one of those white hats which looks as if it had been just skinned--and a pair of gloves not exactly of the color of beurre frais, but of beurre that has been up the chimney, with a natty cane with a gilt k.n.o.b, completed the upper part at any rate, of the costume of the young fellow whom the page introduced to Mrs. Timmins.
Her mamma and she had been just having a dispute about the gooseberry-cream when Cavalcadour arrived. His presence silenced Mrs.
Gashleigh; and Rosa, in carrying on a conversation with him in the French language--which she had acquired perfectly in an elegant finishing establishment in Kensington Square--had a great advantage over her mother, who could only pursue the dialogue with very much difficulty, eying one or other interlocutor with an alarmed and suspicious look, and gasping out "We" whenever she thought a proper opportunity arose for the use of that affirmative.
"I have two leetl menus weez me," said Cavalcadour to Mrs. Gashleigh.
"Minews--yes,--oh, indeed?" answered the lady.
"Two little cartes."
"Oh, two carts! Oh, we," she said. "Coming, I suppose?" And she looked out of the window to see if they were there.
Cavalcadour smiled. He produced from a pocket-book a pink paper and a blue paper, on which he had written two bills of fare--the last two which he had composed for the lamented Hauncher--and he handed these over to Mrs. Fitzroy.
The poor little woman was dreadfully puzzled with these doc.u.ments, (she has them in her possession still,) and began to read from the pink one as follows:--
"DINER POUR 16 PERSONNES.
Potage (clair) a la RiG.o.don.
Do. a la Prince de Tombuctou.
Deux Poissons.
Saumon de Severne Rougets Gratines a la Boadicee. a la Cleopatre.
Deux Releves.
Le Chapeau-a-trois-cornes farci a la Robespierre.
Le Tire-botte a l"Odalisque.
Six Entrees.
Saute de Hannetons a l"Epingliere.
Cotelettes a la Megatherium.
Bourrasque de Veau a la Palsambleu.
Laitances de Carpe en goguette a la Reine Pomare.
Turban de Volaille a l"Archeveque de Cantorbery."
And so on with the entremets, and hors d"oeuvres, and the rotis, and the releves.
"Madame will see that the dinners are quite simple," said M.
Cavalcadour.
"Oh, quite!" said Rosa, dreadfully puzzled.
"Which would Madame like?"
"Which would we like, mamma?" Rosa asked; adding, as if after a little thought, "I think, sir, we should prefer the blue one." At which Mrs.
Gashleigh nodded as knowingly as she could; though pink or blue, I defy anybody to know what these cooks mean by their jargon.
"If you please, Madame, we will go down below and examine the scene of operations," Monsieur Cavalcadour said; and so he was marshalled down the stairs to the kitchen, which he didn"t like to name, and appeared before the cook in all his splendor.
He cast a rapid glance round the premises, and a smile of something like contempt lighted up his features. "Will you bring pen and ink, if you please, and I will write down a few of the articles which will be necessary for us? We shall require, if you please, eight more stew-pans, a couple of braising-pans, eight saute-pans, six bainmarie-pans, a freezing-pot with accessories, and a few more articles of which I will inscribe the names." And Mr. Cavalcadour did so, dashing down, with the rapidity of genius, a tremendous list of ironmongery goods, which he handed over to Mrs. Timmins. She and her mamma were quite frightened by the awful catalogue.
"I will call three days hence and superintend the progress of matters; and we will make the stock for the soup the day before the dinner."
"Don"t you think, sir," here interposed Mrs. Gashleigh, "that one soup--a fine rich mock-turtle, such as I have seen in the best houses in the West of England, and such as the late Lord Fortyskewer--"
"You will get what is wanted for the soups, if you please," Mr.
Cavalcadour continued, not heeding this interruption, and as bold as a captain on his own quarter-deck: "for the stock of clear soup, you will get a leg of beef, a leg of veal, and a ham."
"We, munseer," said the cook, dropping a terrified curtsy: "a leg of beef, a leg of veal, and a ham."
"You can"t serve a leg of veal at a party," said Mrs. Gashleigh; "and a leg of beef is not a company dish."