Page 30 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #2)

Alice skipped over her mother’s embargo. ‘But it’s only because Josh thinks I wouldn’t be able to get back up if I came off, and of course I would – there are always gates and tree stumps and walls and things. I’ve done it before, loads of times.’

‘But what if you came off and were hurt, and there was no one with you?’

‘Well, what if you did?’ she pointed out.

‘ I shan’t come off.’

‘Neither shall I!’

He sympathised, but was unmoved. ‘Pharaoh is a lively ride, and you can’t rule out accidents. If he was a steady old plug, it might be different, but even then—’

Alice regrouped. ‘So then you can’t object if I go out alone in the trap, with Biscuit. I can’t fall out of that, and there never was such a safe, wise pony.’

Both dogs were now on their backs on the gravel, switching their bodies from side to side, legs waving ridiculously in the air. The June sunshine was hot on his head, and just for a moment, he relaxed. ‘Where do you want to go?’

‘Nowhere in particular. Just round and about. I want to do some sketching – and actually it’s better to take the trap because it’s awkward carrying a sketch-pad and pencils and everything on horseback.

And,’ she went on before he could speak, ‘I might do some painting if I find a landscape I like, and obviously I’ll need the trap if I take paints and easel and everything.

And you can’t, you simply c an’t , make me take a groom with me, because they’d hate being made to sit for hours while I worked and they’d complain and disturb me and a great masterpiece of art might be lost to posterity all because of Josh’s silly worry about respectability. ’

He was laughing now. ‘Quite right, Miss Gentileschi! We can’t have the world of art made poorer by the loss of your genius. And, actually, I don’t think there’s anything un -respectable about your going out alone around the estate in the pony-trap. This isn’t the dark ages.’

‘Oh, thank you, darling Giles! And will you tell Josh? Because he won’t listen to me.’

‘I will tell Josh,’ he agreed solemnly.

‘You are the best brother in the whole world!’

She was plainly about to fling her arms round him, then checked herself.

He felt a little pang. Had he made himself so inaccessible?

Since he came back he had been feeling rather fond of Alice.

She was the one with the lively mind: he never knew what she might say next, which amused him.

She reminded him a little of – of one he never allowed himself to think about.

‘You were angling for that all along, weren’t you?’ he said ‘You thought if I refused to allow you to ride alone, I wouldn’t have the heart to refuse to let you drive alone. You manipulated me.’

She showed him wide, innocent eyes. ‘ Me? ’

He reached out and pinched her cheek. ‘You’ll run some poor helpless husband round in circles like a chicken one day.’

‘Oh, I shall never marry,’ she said airily.

‘Of course not. You’ll be the great artist of our time, and they’ll name a whole school after you. “She was the first of the Tallantists,” they’ll say.’

She looked at him indulgently. ‘If you come and sit with us one evening after dinner, instead of scurrying off to the library, I’ll draw your portrait.

I know Richard’s meant to be the handsome one,’ she added judiciously, ‘but you are more satisfactory from an artist’s point of view.

Artists love imperfections, and you have an interesting profile. ’

He gave a mock bow. ‘Thank you, madam. You keep my vanity in good order.’

‘Then will you?’

‘As long as I can read while you do it – I can’t sit and do nothing.’

‘You can read all you like. And if it comes out well, you can get it framed and give it to Kitty. I bet she’d love it.’

Axe was in his yard when Alice drove in, and came across to catch the rein. The dun pony gave a deep whicker of welcome. ‘Well, if it’s not my old friend Biscuit!’ Axe said. He looked up at Alice consideringly, but only nodded a greeting.

One of the things she liked about him was his lack of questions. No Why are you here ? Or Why aren’t you riding ? She rewarded his reticence with information. ‘Pharaoh is quite all right. I went for a long ride early this morning. But I can come out without a groom if I drive in the trap.’

He nodded again, though a fleeting frown touched his golden brows.

But Dolly had raced out from behind the woodpile where she had been suspecting a rat, and was barking for attention at the rear of the trap, going up on her hind legs in the urgency of her need to be close to Alice.

Alice jumped down and squatted to give the dog her dues.

Axe watched her in silence, slowly rubbing the pony’s forehead.

Biscuit blew out contentedly and shifted his weight to be comfortable.

When Alice finally stood up, brushing off her skirt, a little silence ensued – not precisely awkward, but perhaps questioning.

Since Alice didn’t seem to be finding any words, Axe made the first move.

‘I was just going to have a bite before getting to my work. T’isn’t much, but you’re welcome to share.’

Alice blushed. ‘Oh dear, I should have thought to bring something.’

‘What I got you’re welcome to, if you’re staying. Like it says in the Bible, you never know when you might entertain an angel unawares.’

‘Well, I’m not an angel,’ Alice said.

He smiled, his eye-corners creasing up. She had noticed, with a strange sort of intense vision, that those creases were white in his brown face when his eyes were relaxed. ‘That’s as may be, but are you staying?’

‘Yes, please,’ she said. ‘I don’t have to be back until dressing-bell.’

Together they unharnessed Biscuit and put him in the spare stall next to Della, with an armful of hay in the rack to keep him busy, then went into the house.

Inside, Alice saw changes since she had last been there.

Now there was a long seat-cushion on the settle against the wall, covered with a garnet red material.

There was a high-backed wooden chair by the fireside, which had a seat cushion of the same material, and another rag rug on the floor in front of it.

Chintz curtains patterned with autumn leaves hung at the window.

In the middle of the big table stood a green glass jug bearing tall blue delphiniums, spitting their petals everywhere, supported by sprays of bright, pale-green lime leaves.

‘You have done a lot,’ Alice cried. ‘And the flowers – how pretty! Did you arrange them yourself?’

‘No one else has been here,’ he said, amused.

‘So clever to think of using the leaves like that.’

‘Got to go with what’s to hand,’ he said.

‘I’m going to plant a little bit of garden out the back when I’ve got time – just a few marigolds, say, and wallflowers and moon daisies.

And a rose bush, if I can get aholt of one.

I like flowers in the house. My sister give me the delphies yesterday from her garden to bring back.

They don’t last long, but you can’t beat the colour. ’

‘I like the curtains. Did you make them?’

‘Our Seth’s Mary give me the material,’ he said.

He answered obliquely, she thought, for fear he should seem to fish for compliments.

‘Sit you down, I’ll get the grub. ’Tis only bread and cheese, but it’s a nice fresh loaf I brought back yesterday, an’ only took the end off this morning for my breakfast.’

She sat, feeling suddenly at ease, and watched him move about fetching things to the table.

It gave her a warm feeling to see how quietly and surely he moved, like a creature in its own element.

She loved to watch Josh grooming a horse for the same reason, or Grandmère embroidering, or Uncle Sebastian playing the piano: doing something they did so easily they didn’t have to think about it.

I must draw him , she thought suddenly and urgently, but did not make the connection with her own ‘element’.

Two plates, two knives, a loaf on a bread board, a wedge of cheese on a plate, a crock of butter. A jar of honey. ‘From Batty’s,’ he said. Mr Batty in Cherry Lane kept bees. ‘Honey’s good with cheese.’

‘I’ve never tried it,’ Alice said, interested.

‘Marmalade’s good too, but that’s for winter.’ He went out to the scullery and came back with a jug. ‘Only water to drink,’ he apologised, ‘but it’s cold and good from the pump here. Unless you want beer.’

‘No, thanks. I tried it once but I don’t like the taste.’

He twinkled at her. ‘See you keep it that way.’ He surveyed his table. ‘It’s not what you’re used to, I’m afraid.’

‘That bread smells divine,’ she said firmly.

He took up the bread knife and carved her a careful slice.

She leaned forward to examine the wooden board.

It had clearly been made from a slice of wood cut across a tree trunk, and shaped and planed and polished.

‘Oh, the little carving on the rim!’ she exclaimed.

It was a mouse nibbling at an ear of wheat, every detail perfect. ‘It’s beautiful. Did you do it?’

He nodded shyly. ‘When I cut the board, there was a big knot there. I was going to saw it off and plane down the edge, but then . . .’ He hesitated. ‘I sort of saw the mouse in there. Sounds daft when I say it, but I knew that’s what it had to be. Can’t explain really.’

‘I know exactly what you mean!’ she cried.

‘Often when I start a drawing or painting I can see it on the blank paper, as if it’s there already, just waiting for me to bring it out.

’ He was watching her with an arrested look, and she felt an intense connection that she didn’t quite know what to do with.

She gave an embarrassed little smile and continued, ‘Mostly it doesn’t end up the way I saw it, because I don’t have the skill yet. But I always know how it ought to be.’

He seemed to shake himself back into the mundane present, passed the slice of bread to her and pushed the cheese plate closer. ‘Help yourself,’ he said.