“It’s not what you have, but what you do with it. I trained with some of the best chefs in France,” Celine said casually, “and they taught—” She suddenly remembered who she was supposed to be. “That is ... I, uh ... studied cooking at ... at the convent in Aragon. Traveling cooks came by and, uh, gave us lessons.”
Great. That was about as believable as Elvis having lunch with aliens at a McDonald’s in Kalamazoo.
Luckily, neither of the women questioned it. They both had visions of ginger snaps dancing in their heads.
Yolande was still smiling. “I believe it would be wise to put your talents to their best use—since Sir Gaston has left your duties to me.”
“Aye, most wise,” Gabrielle agreed, nodding eagerly.
“I suppose ...” Celine said slowly, sensing that she had some leverage at last. “Perhaps we could make a bargain: I’ll make meals that will knock your ... uh ... slippers off, if you’ll agree to give me something in exchange.”
“What might you wish?” Yolande asked, still a bit suspicious.
“A little time off.” She thought for a second, then added, “And a bath, like this one. Every day.”
“But you will become ill if you bathe so frequently!” Gabrielle protested.
Celine shook her head. “I’ll be fine. It’s the custom where I come from. All I ask is some time to relax and a bath. And maybe some new clothes. Do we have a deal?”
Yolande considered the offer for all of three seconds. “Why not? Your bargain is met, milady.” Turning, she shooed Gabrielle toward the door. “Come, let us leave Lady Christiane to her bath and her bed. She needs her rest. She shall have a busy day in the kitchens on the morrow. Bonsoir, milady.”
“Bonsoir.” Celine sank back in the hot, soapy water with a smile, feeling happier than she had since her arrival. Her stay here might just prove bearable after all. A little free time to puzzle out her problem, a hot bath at the end of every day, decent food, decent clothes ... if she played her cookies right, she might even negotiate herself a nifty hat or two. A soufflé would probably win her an entire new wardrobe.
She wondered, for a moment, whether it was wise to introduce too many modern dishes to these people—but she didn’t think pizza and pastries were going to change the course of history.
Besides, the real Christiane would be arriving soon, and everything would get straightened out. Then everyone would have to believe her story about being from 1993. And now that they were learning to trust her, they would be more willing to help her return home. With a sigh, she submerged beneath the surface of the water.
Where the heck was the real Christiane, anyway?
***
Four days later, Celine hurried across the bailey—she had learned that was the term for the open ground between the castle and the curtain walls—wearing her new leather boots, embroidered green tunic and leggings, and an ankle-length cloak lined in soft marten fur. A matching hat topped off the ensemble: a cute little number that was sort of like a sailor’s hat, pinned to a length of fabric that went beneath her chin and kept her cheeks warm. Gabrielle called it a “barbette.” Celine hoped she could take it along when she returned home. It would make a beautiful addition to her collection, not to mention a nice souvenir of this ...
Adventure? Disaster? Escapade? She wasn’t sure what to call her present situation. Whatever it was, she hoped it would be over soon—and today, her hopes were higher than ever.
In the four days since Gaston had been gone, Celine had made quite a few improvements in the kitchens. She started by introducing something she couldn’t believe hadn’t been invented yet: rolling pins. With a little help from the castle’s armorer and carpenter, she also “invented” a few other items, things that would have been right at home in her great-grandmother’s house, from wire whisks to a spring-loaded chopper. It wasn’t quite a Cuisinart, but it certainly speeded things up.
While the cooks were eagerly soaking up her culinary lessons, she persuaded them to boil any water used for cooking or drinking, and to wash their hands before preparing every meal. They found these tasks bothersome, but gave in when she insisted. Being lady of the manor did have some advantages.
Seeing her success in the kitchens, Yolande had indulged Celine’s wish to help in other areas of the castle. The laundresses were pleased to find their job much easier with washboards and a simple wringer and wooden clothespins. They could now hang laundry to dry on lines inside, rather than outside on tree branches.
The seamstress was thrilled with her new seam ripper, pinking shears, and rotary cutter, and was putting her head together with the armorer over Celine’s sketches of a rudimentary treadle sewing machine.