Page 19 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #2)

‘You’re not gammoning me? Well, there’s no accounting for taste.

And I saw such a pretty wallpaper the other day – white, with blue flower-de-looses all over it and little gold cross-things – thought it would be just the job for the drawing-room.

No? Well, but it has to be said, it does look more like the nobs’ houses I’ve been to than Beechcroft, though I’ve always thought that was because they couldn’t afford to do them up.

Impoverished gentry, you know. But maybe they like this sort of thing too? ’

‘I couldn’t say,’ Nina said, ‘but I do. And Decius does too. He understands.’

Mr Cowling pouted. ‘Ganging up on me now, the two of you?’

‘Oh – no, really—’

‘I’m just funning you. Well, my dear, all I want is for you to be happy, so if it’s what you want .

. . we’ll stay here, and you shall make it your own.

Buy what you like – carpets curtains, furniture, knick-knacks – you’ll need a deal of stuff to fill the place, but I can stand the nonsense.

You don’t need to stint yourself. You’ve been thinking about it, I gather? ’

‘Ever since I got here,’ Nina admitted. ‘And I did wonder whether – if you would agree—’

‘Out with it! What scheme have you dreamed up now in your pretty head to bankrupt me?’

‘It won’t bankrupt you,’ she said, though aware that in a funny way he’d have rather liked her to want something extravagant, ‘but I would like to put in a proper bathroom, if you wouldn’t mind.

I know it’s rather modern, and it would involve building work – and Decius says you’d need an architect to make sure it didn’t spoil the house. ’

‘Oh, you’ve talked to Decius about it, have you?’

‘No, I wouldn’t do that. I only asked him whether in theory it could be done, and how one would go about it if one did decide.’

‘In theory, eh?’ He chuckled. ‘You won’t have fooled him, my love.

You have to be up early in the morning to get ahead of young Decius Blake.

Well, have your bathroom. It’ll put us out in front of the local nobs, that’s for sure.

The King has bathrooms, you know. And since I lend him money, I don’t see why he should have anything I don’t, bar the crown.

Have two bathrooms, one on each floor – might as well, while you’re chopping the place apart. ’

‘Oh, thank you!’ Nina said.

‘And I tell you what – I’ll move Mrs Mitchell over here, permanent. Mrs Deering can stay as cook, but you’ll need more maids, and a footman too, and Mrs Mitchell’s the one to organise all that. She’ll have your house running like clockwork.’

‘Oh, but – you’ll need Mrs Mitchell at Beechcroft, for when you have to stay there. She wouldn’t like it here, and I wouldn’t like to disrupt her life. I’m quite happy with Mrs Deering, and I think she manages beautifully. She understands the house.’

‘And Mrs Mitchell wouldn’t? Well, you might be right there. She’d take one look at all these bare floors and gloomy panelling and have a fit. All right, then, if you prefer Mrs Deering, I’ll leave it like that. But if any time you find she can’t manage—’

‘She will. And I’ll be so happy. Oh, thank you!’

He basked in her gratitude, and invited her to tell him all her plans, and shook his head in wonder at the style and extent of them.

He did like the idea of clearing the lake, however, and proposed enlarging it while they were at it.

‘Once it’s big enough, you’ll soon get ducks and moorhens and suchlike moving in.

And you could have a nice little bridge going over it, so you can walk to the middle and look down at the water. Just like that French picture.’

‘Which one?’ she asked, but he couldn’t tell her. She picked up from the air an image of a woman in white muslin with a parasol standing on an arched wooden bridge with water lilies below, and wondered if it was Monet he was thinking of.

The evening passed pleasantly, and she felt more at ease with him, and they had more to say to each other than at any time since they were married.

That night he came to her bedroom – something he had not done in weeks, not since before the trip to London.

She welcomed him into her bed, with a warm, affectionate feeling towards him.

There followed the usual fumbling and mildly embarrassing activity below the bedcovers, which ended with him sighing and rolling over, and then drawing her onto his shoulder to hold her for a while, before he got up and went away to his own room.

She was a little damp and sticky down there, but she still had no idea whether the act had been properly concluded or not.

She wished with all her heart that her aunt had not shown her the drawings and tried to prepare her.

If she had been completely ignorant, she would not now be left wondering if all was as it should be.

Grandmère took Kitty out to walk in the garden early, before it got hot. ‘You have been sitting indoors too much,’ she said. ‘It is not good for you. Alone as well,’ she added sternly.

‘Alice sat with me sometimes. And Richard visited once or twice,’ Kitty said.

‘Does Giles not visit you?’

‘He’s very busy,’ Kitty said loyally.

‘Hmm,’ said Grandmère, having learned all she needed from that brief exchange. ‘You have been left in solitude to brood and frighten yourself, n’est-ce pas ?’

‘I am afraid – a bit,’ Kitty said.

‘That is natural, but you are young and will make nothing of it. There is nothing to be afraid of.’

Kitty looked sidelong at her. ‘Will it hurt?’ she asked hesitantly, not entirely sure if she wanted to know the truth.

‘There is pain,’ Grandmère said unemphatically, ‘only it is not the pain of injury but the pain of life and you will not mind it. It is impossible to explain to one who has not felt it. But it is nothing to be afraid of.’ She changed the subject abruptly.

‘Ashmore Castle has never had a good garden. One likes a pleasure ground to walk around in fine weather. What would you do, Kitty, to improve this one?’

Kitty’s face lit, and she plunged at once into her ideas for the gardens.

‘There was only time between getting back here and finding I was expecting a baby to make a start on the walled garden. But after the baby’s born .

. .’ She distracted herself, and looked down at her feet for a moment.

‘I do hope it’s a boy,’ she said in a low voice.

‘Everyone will be so cross with me if it’s not. Especially—’

‘Especially Maud?’ Grandmère supplied. ‘But, ma chère petite , don’t forget she had a girl first, so you need only point it out if she should say anything disagreeable to you.’

‘Oh dear,’ Kitty said, thinking of what it was like when her mother-in-law said disagreeable things.

‘ Tiens , Kitty, have some spirit! What can she do to you? Rien du tout! ’ She took Kitty’s hand and tucked it through her arm.

‘And I tell you a little secret. She has more to fear from you than you from her. Vraiment! ’ she added to Kitty’s disbelieving look.

‘You can banish her to the Dower House, and she knows it.’

‘Oh, I never could,’ Kitty faltered.

‘Well, she knows that, too,’ Grandmère said frankly, ‘but the day will come . . . When I lived here, when Willie was a child, there was a bull at the home farm, called Duke, which had been raised from a calf and was as tame at a kitten. Willie used to go and feed it and pet it and it let him climb all over it, and would lick his face like a dog. Then one day when he was going to climb into its pen, a certain look came into its eye, and it scraped the ground with its foot, and the farmer stopped him. He said, “Duke has just worked out that he’s the bull, and you’re the boy.

You can’t play with him any more.” And one day, chère Kitty, you will discover you are the countess and a certain look will come into your eye.

Then playtime will be over. This also Maud knows. ’

They strolled on in silence for a while, until Grandmère said, ‘How pleasant England is in May. One forgets . . . You are very quiet, Kitty.’

‘I think,’ Kitty said, ‘that I don’t feel very well.’

Uncle Sebastian gave Giles a robust slap on the back that made him stagger. ‘A boy! Congratulations! A boy first time out!’

Giles steadied himself and addressed the doctor. ‘My wife – her ladyship? How is she?’

‘Very well, my lord. There were no difficulties. Her ladyship came through with colours flying.’

Dr Arbogast faced Giles with a smile that contained a touch of relief.

Ashmore Castle was new territory to him.

He had a good relationship with most of the local gentry families, but the dowager countess had never used him.

She would summon the lowlier Dr Welkes for the servants or the children, but she and his late lordship were never ill; and if they wished to consult a physician for any reason, it would be a grand one from London.

To attend the birth of the heir to the earldom was an honour Arbogast knew he would enjoy more in retrospect, from a safe distance: the things that could have gone wrong – could still go wrong – put him in a cold sweat.

His wife had said goodbye that morning with the sort of brave smile women reserve for soldiers going off to war who they fear might never return.

He had at least been spared the terrifying presence of the dowager.

She had decided for herself that the baby would not come for several more days, and had taken Rachel over to Asham Bois to spend the day with the Massingberds, who had a house party.

Kitty had taken everyone by surprise: the birth had begun unexpectedly and had been all over remarkably quickly.

‘I told Kitty she would manage beautifully,’ said Grandmère. ‘She is young and healthy.’

‘Can I see her?’ Giles asked the doctor.

‘Very soon, my lord. I shall return upstairs and make sure all is well, and let you know as soon as she is ready for visitors. Ah – your lordship’s son!’