John checked his watch and moved towards the table. "Dinner will be a few minutes. Would everyone like to sit?" he said, as if he hadn't heard what Tuck had said. He was the host, he would tell everyone when to sit down.
The places at the table were labelled. John sat at the head, Malcolm sat at the foot, and Tuck and Evelyn sat facing one another on either side. Evie widened her eyes at Tuck, silently laughing with him at the pretentiousness of this whole situation. The table was spacious. Nobody would be bumping elbows tonight. Berkley entered and retrieved dishes from the sideboard, efficiently setting the table with white gloved hands. Evie said nothing until the job was done, whereupon she said thank you, as her mother had taught her. Berkley acknowledged her with a slight bend of his head.
John was chatting away at Tuck and Malcolm, talking about his work, talking around his manservant. He was trying to sound impressive of course, but Evie wasn't really listening. She was trying to sit in a way that didn't wrinkle her dress, and had taken the cloth napkin and spread it on her lap, just in case. Glancing at Malcolm out of the corner of her eye, she observed him smiling at something John had said. Malcolm was a contained man, she thought. Hard to get close to.
"Ah! Miss Sullivan, the dinner at last," John said cheerily, holding up his hands in greeting as the food on the dinner trolley was wheeled in. First course, vegetable and beef soup.