JACK OF DIAMONDS, REDUX

Completed edits of chapter 14

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Countess Chernetsov was a large bosomed, matronly woman, who could best be described as stout. Her hair was swept up tight into a bun, and she brushed a strand aside as she looked over the list for tomorrow’s upcoming entertainment. She shook her head in amazement and asked herself how she could have ever agreed to let her sons help organize the entertainment for this year’s upcoming Ball.

A costume ball, at that.

But a juggler? she thought, fighting back her disbelief. And a magician? What do they think this is, a children’s party? At least they still have the octet I asked for—but an American Jazz band? Why would they think we need an American Jazz band?

She kept nodding her head as she read further down the list, and then looked up at Reynolds—her major-domo as she liked to refer to him. He so reminded her of a character out of a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta. Tall, thin, and unassuming, he’d proven himself indispensable over the years, serving the family faithfully since they first arrived in England seventeen years ago. Now in his mid-fifties, the man simply hadn’t aged. His hair may have become a little thinner, but not noticeably so; it was something she’d never admit to despising about any man, not really, because what was the point in that? Some people age prematurely; they lose their hair, gain weight, turn grey, and show their age with wrinkles and age spots. He simply happened to be one of those people who didn’t.

“And the guests?” she asked, almost afraid to hear what the answer might be.

“Forty, perhaps fifty,” he said softly—“but we’ll have enough food for more I should think.”

She remembered four years ago, at Mandalay—before they’d hired the new cook—and how they’d run out of food with an unexpected upsurge in guests.

Unexpected or not, it should’ve never happened.

“Did Greggson hire more help?”

“I believe he’s bringing in the old cook from Mandalay. And some others,” he added.

“From Mandalay? What do you mean the old cook? Not that insufferable man? What was his name?”

“No Mum, the woman who replaced him,” Reynolds said with a smile.

“But she’s only been there three years at most!”

“Yes Mum. Apparently she’s trying to start a business of her own.”

“A business? What sort of a business?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I believe she’s been selling pies, Mum.”