Page 23 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #2)

‘I loved him,’ Mrs Oxlea said. It wasn’t the child she was referring to.

‘Well, he didn’t love you,’ Rose said briskly. ‘And now it’s finally over.’

‘It’ll never be over for me,’ Mrs Oxlea said. ‘Go away, please, Rose.’ She said it not angrily, which Rose could have lived with, but with a complete lack of emphasis, which worried her.

She got up. ‘I’ve things to do,’ she said. ‘And shouldn’t you be in the kitchen by now? Time’s getting on. Pull yourself together, Deena – and if you have got a bottle under the mattress, don’t even think about getting it out now. No need to make bad worse.’

Mrs Oxlea gave her no response at all, and Rose left her, sitting on her bed, staring at the photograph.

Her ladyship, she learned, had gone riding. She had insisted on having her horse brought up from grass the day before, and Giddins, the head man, with whom alone she dealt, had naturally not made any objections, as Josh had to Alice. What her ladyship wanted, her ladyship had.

For riding, the dowager Lady Stainton dressed anonymously in a plain black habit and a small tricorn with a veil, which from a distance nicely disguised her.

But, Rose thought, watching her approach at a canter up the hill, with Giddins following a length behind her, everybody in the area must know Queen Bee.

Though she was bay, and bays were pretty common, she had that distinctive white ring round her coronet.

And, besides, she was a fine-paced beauty, much coveted by local lady riders.

Rose, however, just recognised her, as one recognises any person one knows well.

When she was sure her ladyship had seen her, Rose stepped back into the edge of the trees, and Lady Stainton pulled down to a walk, rode a little past, and halted.

There was a brief exchange with Giddins, then he rode on, and her ladyship came back to where Rose was standing.

Bee blew out percussively through her nostrils, arched her neck and pawed at the ground a moment in frustration at being stopped.

Her ladyship’s gloved hand checked her easily.

The voice came from behind the veil with icy brevity.

‘What do you want?’

Rose took a step closer. She had never ridden herself, but she wasn’t afraid of horses. Bee eyed her, then decided she was good for an itchy nose, and tried to rub her muzzle up and down Rose’s shoulder. Rose pushed her away with one hand. ‘There’s news. From Miss Eddowes,’ she said to the veil.

Maud drew a breath of annoyance at the very sound of that name, but a listening silence ensued as she contemplated what news the woman would send to her. It could only be one thing – couldn’t it?

‘What news?’ she asked at length.

‘The child’s dead,’ Rose said. There was no response from behind the veil. ‘Diphtheria,’ she added, for the avoidance of doubt.

She thought Lady Stainton whispered, ‘Thank God,’ but the wind was stirring the trees and it was hard to tell. She waited.

‘Very well,’ was all her ladyship said at length. ‘You may go.’

Rose stirred. ‘You think it’s all over,’ she said, ‘but what do you think will happen now? You had a hold over Mrs Oxlea, but now she’s got nothing to lose.’

The veiled head came round sharply. ‘You told her?’

‘Miss Eddowes asked me to. She had the right to know.’

‘She has no rights at all, except the right to be silent,’ said her ladyship savagely. ‘And the same goes for you.’

‘I don’t know why you even care. I don’t see how it matters now he’s dead. If you ask me, the more you make a thing of it—’

‘I didn’t ask you. You are impertinent.’

Rose shrugged. ‘I’ve always been loyal.’

‘And I pay you well for it.’

‘It’s not something money can buy. Taylor and me, we stick by you because we stick by you. That’s all.’

‘You would be nothing without me, either of you. You’d do well to remember that.’

Bee snorted as her head was sharply wrenched round, and a boot heel in her side sent her from a standstill into a canter.

Rose watched horse and rider diminish into the distance. ‘Never mind a thank-you,’ she called after her – not that she would have heard. ‘I can manage without.’ But I’d sooner , she thought, as she trudged back towards the house, be me right now than her .

Her ladyship sat before the dressing-table glass as Miss Taylor did her hair.

‘You’ll have to send her away,’ Miss Taylor said quietly.

The dowager didn’t respond. ‘There’s already talk in the neighbourhood about why you keep her on.

If she was any good, it’d be another matter, but now there’s a new master and mistress—’

‘There is no new mistress.’

‘So you say – but how long will that last?’

‘You talk too much,’ the dowager said viciously.

Miss Taylor waited a moment, and went on, ‘Pay her off, that’s my advice.

Pay her a good bit to go a long way away.

Scotland, maybe.’ She went with her ladyship to Kincraig, Lord Leake’s Scottish place, most years, and the food there – well, she didn’t think Mrs Oxlea could ruin that.

‘Couldn’t his lordship find a place for her up there? ’

‘My brother knows nothing about this.’

Miss Taylor pushed in another pin. ‘You should never have got yourself into it in the first place. You should have turned her out straight away. No one would be interested in a kitchen maid that got herself pregnant.’

Now their eyes did meet in the glass. Miss Taylor tried to read her mistress’s expression. What was it they called it in the sensational papers? Baffled rage, that was it.

‘For God’s sake,’ her ladyship said between clenched teeth, ‘ do you think it was my idea? ’

‘Oh,’ said Miss Taylor. And then, more humbly than she had ever said anything to her mistress, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

‘ He insisted. And then – I was always afraid that she would talk. I couldn’t bear—’ She stopped.

The humiliation were the words she didn’t say.

A kitchen maid! Mrs Oxlea had been pretty in those days, in the common way servants sometimes were.

He had told her he would leave her if she didn’t keep the girl.

Would he have? It had been a bad time; there had been things going on in his life that she didn’t know about, and he had taken it out on her, enjoying tormenting her, and the more she fought him, the harder he fought back.

It was like living in a volcano of conflict and misery.

But better that than the shame and public disgrace of separation and perhaps – unthinkably – divorce.

To have her husband publicly choose a kitchen-maid over her – to be laughed at, sneered at – to be pitied .

. . That was the worst of all. So she had given in.

The child . . . She had had two miscarriages between Richard and Rachel.

She was worn out. He had made a fuss of the child, as if to point up her failures.

She had made one last stipulation, and he had agreed.

The Eddowes woman was known for general philanthropy, but in a discreet circle known better for helping girls who found themselves in trouble.

She had them looked after until they gave birth, found a home for the child afterwards and a job for the girl.

She had a network of friends and colleagues who placed fallen women with ‘liberal’ employers, who didn’t mind a shady past in their servants.

But once the baby had gone, Stainton had insisted on her keeping Mrs Oxlea at the Castle.

The child would go – but the mistress she must keep, to teach her her place.

To teach her , Maud Stainton, a Forrest by birth, humility and obedience.

Rose and Miss Taylor stood close together at the end of a corridor. ‘What’s she going to do?’ Rose asked in an urgent undertone.

‘She hasn’t said. I advised her to send her away somewhere, as soon as possible.’

‘Poor Deena,’ Rose sighed, but not dissenting.

‘I wonder – was it right to tell her? Her ladyship, I mean,’ Miss Taylor said, suddenly doubtful. ‘Let sleeping dogs—’

‘Miss Eddowes was going to tell her. She said she had the right to know. And I suppose she did. She was going to give me a note to bring to her, but I said I’d tell her myself, and she agreed it was better not to have anything written down, in case.’

Miss Taylor looked scornful. ‘As if she’d show a letter like that to anyone – after all these years! Or leave it anywhere to be found. She’d have burned it straight off.’

Rose shrugged. ‘Oh well, it’s done now. And I’m glad it’s over. I was sick of being a go-between. And Oxlea – she’ll have to get a grip on herself now, won’t she?’ Miss Taylor looked doubtful. ‘She’s got to get rid of her, hasn’t she? Now she can.’

‘God, I hope so,’ said Miss Taylor. She hesitated on the brink of a revelation. She had always been intensely loyal to her mistress, though disliking her in many ways. ‘I’ve never known her uncertain on any subject except this one. I don’t like to see it.’

James Hook stepped out from the shadows and accosted Rose on her way downstairs. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Rose said automatically. ‘Get out of my way.’

Hook continued to block her path. ‘I seen you talking to Miss Taylor, heads together, telling secrets. You and her, chalk and cheese, you never could be best pals, so don’t tell me something’s not going on.’

Rose gave him a withering look. ‘Women’s talk. Not for little boys to know.’

‘Don’t believe it.’

‘Don’t care what you believe. And since when did I tell you my secrets, even if I had any, which I don’t? Now move yourself, James, I’m late.’

‘I’ll find out. Trust me for that. And it’s not James any more. I’m his lordship’s valet, and don’t you forget it. You’re just a housemaid.’

‘Ooh, pardon me for living, Mister Hook. Go on then, let me past and I’ll tell you my secret.’

He looked uncertain, then pleased, then uncertain again. He stood back. ‘What is it, then?’

She lowered her voice. ‘We’re both in love with you, Taylor and me. We was arguing over who’s to get you.’