Masters And Lovers 1-4

Chapter 7

Charity dinner night and the four of us make our way to the table, Elizabeth on Richard’s arm, Charlotte

on mine. Like Richard, I detest these events, but these days it’s expected of me and at least this

evening I have some entertaining company.

But Charlotte looks glum, muttering under her breath.

“What’s bothering you? I thought you wanted to come?”

“I feel like the ugly duckling.”

?

?

I look down at my Jade, exquisite in a plain black dress, cut to her figure and stopping just short of the

knee. “Why Charlotte?”

She gestures around the room. “Look at them all, in their dresses and jewellery and.…”

*Sigh*

“Charlotte, look at the other women in this room. They may all have designer dresses and jewellery and

bags and shoes. You could have all of that too if it meant a damn thing to you. But it doesn't, and I don't

insist, because if you were wearing a sack, you would still outshine every other woman here.” This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

She rolls eyes at me but looks a little reassured.

Richard harrumphs and I smile to Beth. “Present company excluded of course.” But there’s a twinkle in

Richard’s eye.

I turn back to Charlotte. “Besides which, I’m sure you know as well as I do, the ending to the story of

the Ugly Duckling.”

I wink at her, and she smiles.

*****

At the large circular table, I have Elizabeth to one side, Mayor Vandervoort to the other. My elegant wife

makes a manful effort to smile as she exchanges chit-chat with his wife, Veronica, a couple of seats

along. She’s doing a great job. I know she loathes the woman, an overly-made-up blond who nurses

the illusion that traffic-stop-red suits her complexion. If you stepped in her personality, you wouldn’t wet

your feet.

Beyond her are my old friend, Will Stanton, the Police Commissioner and his wife. Across from us are

some of the local Councillors and minor politicians with their assorted females. And finally, there is

James, and beside him, looking petrified, is Charlotte.

Completely out of her depth….

…. and her comfort zone….

But the practice is good for her….

When I get her on my Board in a few years’ time, she’ll need to be to grips with this….

However, regardless of the quality of some of the company we are keeping, the food is very good and

Charlotte, finally raising a smile, tucks in. Her eyes, I notice, follow Elizabeth as the hors d'oeuvres are

served. Her hands hover over the cutlery, before, following Elizabeth, she picks up the tiny rounds of

toast and pate in her fingers.

I keep watching, surreptitiously of course.

The soup, a Vichyssoise, is delicious, and after a doubtful moment, while she sniffs then tastes, true to

form, Charlotte spoons it up with relish, right to the last drop. Her dish emptied, she tears a chunk from

a roll, swiping around her plate, then gulping the bread down in large economical bites as she polishes

away the last smear of soup.

After a moment the conversation lulls and she glances up. Everyone is looking at her, watching the

performance. Veronica wears a faint sneer.

Charlotte flushes, looking around at the assembly, and then to James who eye-points the remains of

the roll in her hand. With a guilty look, she drops it on her side plate.

“You know,” I comment, reaching for the basket of bread. “I’ve often thought….” I take a roll and break

off a piece, wiping it into my own bowl. “…. That when we become wealthy, we shouldn’t lose sight of

some of the core values that got us here. And one of those is not wasting good food.”

I break off another piece, polishing the enamel with it. “This is, after all, a charity dinner, isn’t it, for the

homeless. We should be seen to practice the values we claim to espouse.”

Chatter bursts out, abrupt and noisy.

“Quite right.”

“Yes, just so.”

Suddenly, the basket of rolls is empty and I drop wink to Charlotte.

*****

Charlotte’s attention becomes distracted, Veronica probing the detail of the wedding; outfits, choice of

church, how many bridesmaids, dresses….

How much it’s all costing….

James leans close, speaking in a low voice. “Thanks for that. Charlotte would have been mortified. One

of the things I know she was taught on that farm was that you don’t waste food. That it’s bad-mannered

not to clear your plate. Between that and starving as a kid, she never….”

I brush it off. “Forget it. I asked you to bring her so she could get used to this kind of thing.”

He arches brows. “Really? Should I read something into that?”

I prevaricate. “She was worried about the wedding reception, about knowing how to behave at a formal

occasion. This is good practice for her.”

He nods, chewing his food thoughtfully.

In for a penny….

“As a matter of fact, there’s something else I wanted to run by you.” I glance across to check

Charlotte’s attention is elsewhere. It is. She’s listening politely to Veronica….

…. winding her table-napkin in her hands, knuckles turning white….

Good practice….

“Go on,” says James.

“You mentioned to me some while ago that you’d caught her hacking our security system.”

“Ah-ha. Along with whatever else caught her interest.”

“Did you make any attempt to stop her?”

“No, not after you said you were happy for her to see what was going on.”

“Good. So…. We can assume that she’s probably continuing along those lines?”

James sucks at his teeth, then delicately picks a sliver from between with a fingernail. After a long

pause, he says, “I don’t know. I didn’t think to check. But I can if you want me to?”

“Not necessarily. That’s not what I’m thinking.”

He scratches his forehead. “What then?”

“Not now, but later, when she’s had more training, what do you think of the idea of Charlotte as Head of

Security?”

James fork drops, landing with a clatter on his plate. He glances around. “Sorry, folks. Clumsy of me.”

Then he turns back to me. “Are you serious?”

“Perfectly serious. You don't like the idea?”

“Ummm, I didn't say that.” He ponders. “In fact, as I think on it…. she'd be a natural for the job.”

I pursue the point. “I know I can trust her. And she has the kind of devious mind and the sheer tenacity

that a job like that needs. Not to mention the motivation.”

“To be suspicious on our behalf?”

“Exactly.”

James chews at a lip, turning the thought over. “She wanted to be an engineer.”

“Do the two conflict? I don't see why they should.”

He glances Charlotte’s way, then back at me. “No, they wouldn’t conflict at all. One set of skills would

boost the other.” He stares at the tablecloth. “Michael won't like it.”

“You're her Dom.”

“Yes, but not exclusively. Look, suppose we keep this on the table for the long-term and meanwhile, I

can…. guide her along appropriate paths.”

“Agreed,” I say. “And if she's permitted to pursue the interest, you'll know what she's up to.”

He huffs. “True.”

*****

The fish course is next.

Charlotte leans forward over the table to Elizabeth. “Which is the fish knife?” she hisses. “I thought I

knew what it looked like.”

I glance down at my cutlery.

Oh, God….

They’re serving oysters….

Wonder if she’s ever eaten one?

James exchanges a glance with me, rubbing at his chin.

The plate is set before Charlotte. She stares, then her eyes roll up to watch Elizabeth.

In fact, I know that my wife does not care for oysters, but this time, she makes a show of how to eat

one tidily. Squeezing on a little lemon juice, she flicks the flesh clear of the shell with the tiny fork, then

tips it back into her mouth.

Which moron set the menu for this meal?

Charlotte watches keenly. Still with an uncertain look, she squeezes lemon juice over one of the

shellfish on her plate, then jerks back. “It moved!”

James murmurs something to her.

“They're alive?” Her eyes are wide. “They’re alive and we eat them like that?”

“That’s how it’s done, Charlotte. It’s the only way to be sure they’re fresh.”

“But…. I just saw it flinch when I put on the lemon juice. It’s… it’s like a chemical burn on the poor

thing….”

She has the attention of the whole table by now. Brows furrow at her words and some of the dishes are

pushed away.

A mutter from one side. “Never thought of it like that.”

“Chemical attack.… She’s right though….”

The waiter’s glance is frosty as he removes Charlotte’s plate, then the others, most of the contents

untouched.

*****

Fortunately, Charlotte enjoys the sorbet which follows, and a salad can hold few surprises. The

vegetable terrine is excellent and presents no problems. But when the main course arrives….

Oh my God….

And I know what’s coming. Next to me, James groans quietly.

Charlotte peers at her dish, then up at the waiter. Her eyes pass between me and Elizabeth, then at

James. She sucks at her lips. “Um, it’s raw.”

“Steak tartare is meant to be raw, Charlotte,” says James, his voice level. “Why don’t you try it….”

*****

The evening over, we leave, Elizabeth and Charlotte chatting, James by me. His voice low. “Do we call

that a win?”

“I think we just call it a first. Who’s setting the menu for your reception dinner?”

“I am. Perhaps I’ll reconsider my plans.”

“I’d keep it simple if I were you.”

“I’ll hang on to that thought.”

Elizabeth is struggling to keep her face straight. “Did you enjoy that, Charlotte?”

Charlotte sniffs. “Next time give the food direct to the homeless and the needy. Better still, give ‘em the

cash.”

She has a point….

*****