Popularity War

Duck Dinner

Popularity War

Chapter 4- Duck Dinner

Feeling refreshed after her warm bath, Eva started towards the kitchen. The smell of meat made her stomach growl and she wondered what her father was cooking. The meat was not beef, turkey, or ham, so she became baffled by the wonderful, yet mysterious scent. At best, she guessed that it must have been some sort of bird, pheasant or quail perhaps. Such delicacies have not been prepared lately and her father did mention he was making her something special. She smiled at the thought and continued her passage through the once decorated hall.

Aside from dismissing servants, her father had been selling unneeded household items, such as the tapestries. Eva missed the fabric art, but she was more concerned about their financial situation. Until recently, she had no idea how precarious their situation had become, and now that she knew, she became determined to help her father in any way possible. She hated losing her lifestyle, but the thought that she was not alone made her want to make the best of the situation. After all, her father did not complain, so she felt that she did not have that right either. Besides, her father was not to blame for their financial struggles. Each morning she woke up with a forced smile to perform duties that she never dreamed of doing; she had to make her own breakfast and clean the dishes afterward, and soon, she would have to dress herself, make her bed, and wash her clothes. Clara would be the last servant to leave and Eva dreaded that day the most.

  Several feet from the tall oak doors, she heard the clatter of metal hitting the stone floor. Concerned about her father, Eva rushed towards thick doors. With a slight creak the doors flew open to reveal her father cupping his hand with a rag, blood staining the once white fabric. At his feet, three iron pans lay upon the ground, the source of the loud noise she had heard only moments before barged in the room. “Goodness father, what happened?” Eva scurried towards him to take a look at the wound.

 “I cut my finger on the knife.” Lord Whikim managed to hiss through his clenched teeth. Eva failed to notice the blade sitting upon the wooden table next to a half diced onion and a few other vegetables.

His chestnut eyes that contained small flecks of gold were usually cheerful, but the eyes that stared back at her were gloomy with hints of pain. Even his face looked worn and depressed. His graying hair lay uncombed upon his head and his prominent and handsome jaw was sprinkled with black stubble. The white shirt he wore was stained with grease, blood, and other kitchen grime and stuck out of his dark brown pants as if it were not properly tucked in. All in all, he looked pitiful and Eva could barely stand the sight.

 “Here, let me help you.” Although she had little experience with wounds she was still determined to nurse her father’s finger. Gently unwrapping his hand, Eva examined the cut. To her relief, it was not very deep and was only about a third of an inch in length. “Oh, it’s not that bad at all; you’ll be as good as new once I clean and bandage your finger.”

Lord Whikim chuckled at his daughter’s remarks. “I must look like such a fool.” His merriment ended with a wince once Eva wiped the cut with a cool, wet rag. “I find it interesting how something so small can cause so much pain,” he winced again.

“If you want an honest response, yes, you do look rather silly. You are supposed to cut the onion, not your finger,” she said sarcastically. She left his side momentarily to retrieve a bandage. When she returned and wrapped his finger she said, “There, all better.”

Her father looked over his mended finger with contentment. “Thank you my dear. Now, would you like to help me finish making dinner?” The arrival of his daughter brightened his mood and he felt inclined to spend some more time with her. He felt bad that he rarely spent time with her, being swamped by his business, so he took this as a great opportunity.

Eva’s lips formed a wide grin at her father’s offer, an offer she would be daft to refuse. “I would love to help; just tell me what to do,” she practically bounced as she spoke as her excitement bubbled over. Cooking with Alfred was great, but cooking with her father would be a memory she would cherish forever. Despite what he might think, she enjoyed spending time with him, and thinking back, she wished they had done more together. Yet, he was always busy and then she became close friends with Cassandra. Still, she figured they had plenty of time to be together, especially now that had to perform duties that once belonged to the hired staff.

Lord Whikim thought for a moment before responding. “Why don’t you finish cutting this onion while I check the meat.” Eva nodded and took the knife that had cut her father a few minutes ago. As she did so her father added, “Oh, and be careful.”

“I will.” Remembering what Alfred taught her she began to dice the onion. A comfortable silence enveloped the room as they worked. After a few minutes Eva asked, “By the way, what kind of meat are you making? I was unable to place the smell.”

Her father cut the meat’s flesh to observe its coloration to determine how much longer it needed to cook as he said, “It’s duck. We haven’t had duck in a while, so I figured this would be a treat for us.”

Eva stopped dicing to gaze at her father. His back was turned, but she had a feeling he knew her reaction. Duck was her mother’s favorite meat. The reason they rarely had the bird were due to painful memories. She struggled to hold back tears as she thought about her mother. Back then, her father was full of life and when she died, he lost a large part of himself. He always said that she was his better half, a half he will never get back.

The prospect of sharing a duck dinner with her father left her solemn as she forced her eyes off her father to continue cutting the vegetables. When she finished, she informed her father who took them and placed them in an iron pan. He then placed the pan on a hot slab of stone and told Eva to stir the vegetables. “By the time those are fried, the meat should be done. The bread we have is leftovers from yesterday.”

In less than ten minutes, they were done. Taking out some plates and silverware, they quickly set the table in the dining room and then brought out their dinner. Taking out a knife, and being very careful, Lord Whikim began to carve the meat, the delicious scent wafting around the room. He placed a few slices on his daughter’s plate before serving himself, doing the same thing with the vegetables and bread. When he finished, he sat down at the head of the table and said, “I am no Alfred, so I really hope this tastes good.”

With her father’s permission, Eva began to eat, selecting a piece of the duck meat first. The hot flesh was tender and extremely juicy as she chewed, savoring its flavor for as long as possible. “This is delicious,” she said after swallowing. “I think Alfred would say the same if he tried this.” Indeed, the meat was seasoned with the right amount of herbs and it was cooked thoroughly. In the back of her mind, she wondered where he learned to cook. Deciding to voice her question, she asked, “I have never seen you with Alfred, nor any other cook, so how did you learn how to make this?”

Lord Whikim swallowed a forkful of vegetables before answering. “Your mother taught me. Most of my lessons were before you were born, but I never forgot.”

His answer satisfied the domain of her question, but it made her feel left out. He had so many wonderful memories of Rosaline while she had only a few; she was only a little girl when her mother died. “Oh, I see,” was all she managed to mutter in response.

Sensing his daughter’s melancholy, Lord Whikim placed a warm hand upon hers. When she looked up from her plate, he said, “I know she was taken from you at an early age, but know this, your mother loved you and she would want us to enjoy this meal. I miss her so much. Right now, I can see her in your eyes and it’s such a comfort. You are so much like her.” He raised her hand and gently kissed it, sending a tickle upon her skin from the short hairs on his face. “I love you.”

Eva choked back tears as she watched her father become emotional. His love for her was undeniable and that lifted her spirits enough to get through the evening, starting with a small smile. “I love you too, father.”