Conrad's Fate by Diana Wynne Jones Page B

about it rather. Eventually Lady Felice dumped her eighteenth sandwich back on her plate in an irritated way and said, “Really, Mother, does it matter ?”
    She got a stare. The Countess had ice blue eyes, big ones, and the stare was glacial. “Of course it matters, dear. It’s extreme discourtesy to me .”
    â€œBut he was probably called away on business,” Lady Felice said. “He was telling me that his bonds and shares—”
    I could see this was quite a cunning thing to say, a bit like the way Anthea and I used to ask Uncle Alfred for money to stop him raging when we’d broken something. The Countess held up a small, gentle hand all over rings to stop Lady Felice. “Please, darling! I know nothing about finance. Amos, are there cakes?”
    It was my turn to jump. Mr. Amos said, “Conrad, hand the cakes now, please.”
    They were at the bottom of the trolley on another huge silver plate. I almost staggered as I heaved it up. The plate was truly heavy and made heavier still by being piled so with all the tiniest and most delicious pastries you could imagine. Scents of cream, fruit, rosewater, almond, meringue, and chocolate hit my nose. I felt my stomach whir. It sounded so loud to me that I couldn’t think of any elegant way to hand those cakes. I simply walked over to the Countess and held the plate out to her.
    Mr. Amos frowned again. I could tell he thought I was too plain.
    Luckily I didn’t have to heave the plate about for very long. The Countess had just wanted to change the subject, I think. She only took three cakes. Lady Felice had one. How they could bear not to eat the lot, I shall never know.
    After that we had the church service again, with everything being cleared back onto the trolley in the proper religious order. Mr. Amos and Andrew bowed. Both glared sideways at us until we realized we had to bow, too. Then we were allowed to push the trolley away into the hall.
    â€œTea ceremony over,” Christopher muttered, under the clattering.
    But it was not, not quite. In the middle of the hall Mr. Amos stopped and told us off. He made me at least feel quite awful. “In front of Family !” he kept saying. “One of you flounces like a pansy, and the other plods like a yokel!” Then he went on to the way we stood. “You do not gaze like half-wits; you do not stand to attention like common soldiers. You are in a proper household here. You behave right . Watch Andrew next time. He stands against a wall as if it were natural .”
    â€œYes, Mr. Amos,” we said miserably.
    He allowed us to go away down the stone stairs in the end. And there the bewildering day went on and on. Miss Semple was waiting to show us the undercroft. Christopher tried to sidle off then, but she turned and shot him a mild but all-seeing look and shook her head. He came glumly to heel. I followed her resignedly anyway. It was clear to me that I was here for a week, until Count Robert came back, so I thought I might as well learn my way about.
    The undercroft was vast. I had to be shown all over it again the next day because it was too big to take in that first time. All I remembered was a confusion of steams and scents from several kitchens and a laundry, and people in brown-and-gold uniform rushing about. There were cold stores and dry stores full of food, and a locked door leading to the cellars. There was at least one room dedicated entirely to crockery, where two girls seemed to be washing up all the time. I was very surprised when Miss Semple told us this was just crockery for Staff. The good china for the Family was upstairs in another pantry with another set of maids to wash it. Family and Staff were like two different worlds that only linked together at certain times and places.
    Christopher became fascinated by this. “It’s my amateur status, Grant,” he told me. “It allows me to take a detached view of the tribal customs here.