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“It looks good,” Clem said, picking it up and carrying it into the dining room without more ado. They had soon well laden the table up with the pies and the cheese board in pride of place, whereupon Dora started spooning the pickles into different decorative bowls.

It seemed setting jars on the table was not the done thing, so Clem helped her out, filling bowls with pickled walnuts and cheese straws and sliced apples and helpings of the other relishes and sauces he had purchased.

Clem knew his tastes were firmly lower class, but after hearing Dora’s tales of culinary disaster he did not think Allsop or Fields would be turning their nose up at such basic fare. If they wanted the soups and consommé, souffles and crepes of fine dining, they could take themselves off to a hotel for their meals.

As it was, the fire was roaring in the fireplace and Clem was polishing the wine glasses by the time Dora fetched the other two down. They seemed a little stunned as they took their seats and Clem popped the champagne cork. For a crazy moment, it crossed his mind to announce right here and now his fifty percent ownership of The Parthenon.

Glancing at Dora’s happy, flushed face, he dismissed it just as quickly. Plenty of time for that. Might as well get over one hurdle at a time. No sense in trying to jump several all-in-one leap, that way led to disaster. At the moment, Dora was his willing accomplice and the last thing he wanted to do was turn her against him before he was sure of his way.

“I propose a toast,” he said, passing around the glasses as he filled them.

“To the founder of the feast?” Dora suggested helpfully.

“To us,” Clem corrected her, picking up the last of the glasses. He turned to Fields and Allsop who looked at one another and then clambered awkwardly to their feet. Fields looked sheepish and a little unsure of himself for once, whereas Allsop looked his usual awkward self.

His brother-in-law cleared his throat. “To the Dabneys,” he proposed. “May you not live to regret what you have done,” he said somberly. Allsop winced and turned crimson.

Clem’s eyebrows rose and he looked to Dora who at once pinned a smile to her face. “To health and happiness!” she said as though echoing a completely different toast.

“Health and happiness!” the other three repeated before resuming their seats once again. The champagne seemed to enliven things at least for Fields, who smacked his lips and glanced toward the bottle with a surprised look on his face.

“Dashed nice vintage, this,” he muttered approvingly, before drawing one of the bowls toward him with a gleam in his eye. “Ah! Pickled whelks!”

Not much more was said for the next twenty minutes as a fine supper was partaken by all. Even Allsop’s appetite was tickled enough to take a decent plateful this time, and by Clem’s reckoning, he ate more of the grapes than Dora.

The champagne was polished off and a second bottle opened. This time, Clem paused before the toast and Dora jumped into the breach. “Sláinte,” she cried.

Fields looked a little surprised but gave a murmured agreement of, “Your very good health.”

Inroads were made into all three pies and a quantity of cheese was consumed.

“Do you know,” Dora commented chattily, “that someone once told me it was vastly unladylike to eat cheese?”

“Who the devil told you that?” her brother demanded.

“Mrs. Applewhite,” she responded promptly.

Fields gave a disgusted grunt. “She would! Probably thinks it’s too low class,” he commented, before glancing uncomfortably at Clem. “Your pardon, Dabney.”

“Not at all, cheese is a working-class staple after all,” Clem responded affably.

The rest of the meal passed without incident and when Clem rose to help Dora clear the plates, the other two followed suit and soon they had stowed the leftovers into the cupboards and piled the dirty plates next to the sink.

He followed Dora into the scullery where she was working the pump for water. “Leave it,” he said. “Mrs. Cherwell is coming first thing.”

He could tell she was tempted. “I don’t want her to walk in and for the first thing she sees to be a pile of dirty crockery,” she said biting her lip.

“If it was not for you, she would not be coming back at all,” he reminded her, even as he reached past her to pick up the full bucket.

“It won’t take long, for the plates are only covered in crumbs today, not gravy.” When they returned to the kitchen the others had disappeared and Clem put the water to heat on the stove. “You don’t have to remain down here with me. Why do you not go on up?” she urged him. “Felix always secures all the windows and doors. He’s likely doing that now.”

Clem shook his head. “I’m content to wait,” he told her, removing his jacket, and rolling up his shirt sleeves. He was elbow deep in soapy water when Fields re-entered the kitchen a quarter of an hour later brandishing a large key.

He stood in the doorway a moment, watching the two of them washing and drying the plates. “I’ve locked up,” he said abruptly and hung the key on a hook. He hesitated a moment, then murmured, “Goodnight,” before taking his leave of them.

Clem and Dora exchanged sidelong glances. “You see? He has accepted you already,” she commented.

“Hmm, that was an interesting toast he gave.”