Page 33 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #2)

‘Reckon I will,’ he said defiantly, threw back his head and emptied his glass.

On its way down again, his head reached equilibrium and his eyes connected with the barmaid’s, just about on the level with his and brimming with sympathy.

It warmed him to think someone was interested in his well-being.

It also excited him a little bit because she was wearing face-paint, and he had never before been this close to a woman who did.

It wasn’t allowed up at the Castle. Mrs Webster was mustard on that, came down like a ton of bricks on any maid who dared so much as to put on a bit of rouge.

And his mother had always warned him against ‘painted floozies’.

She said they were a trap and a delusion.

She disapproved of scent as well, and Mrs Webster forbade it at the Castle.

He had never noticed Tabby before, particularly.

She was just a figure in the background of the Dog.

She was not particularly pretty, and he had always thought she was a bit older than the maids who usually occupied his affections.

But she was looking into his eyes now as if he were the most important person in the world, and it was balm to his troubled soul.

And then there was that bosom. It heaved just below his sightline.

And Tabby’s full, red, painted lips seemed to be pushing out towards him.

He felt a thrill in a region below his waist that he was not accustomed to thinking about.

And the exciting notion came to him that if he dared ask her, she might not be completely averse to kissing him.

‘Why don’t you tell me all about it,’ Tabby purred.

He looked into her eyes, and felt himself falling ever so gently into a soft, warm, and infinitely inviting trap, and his mother’s warnings seemed silly, and very far away.

‘Well!’ said Mr Cowling. ‘This is something like!’

Nina, too, was impressed with the carriage that was waiting for them outside the station – black and glossy and polished, with two lovely dapple greys to draw it, and a coachman and groom in livery coats.

The groom opened the door and let down the step, but Nina had lingered to look at the horses, and stroke a soft muzzle with a gloved hand.

‘My dear?’ Mr Cowling called her. She looked up and caught the coachman’s eye.

He had a nice, fatherly face, and when she said, ‘They’re lovely!

’ he smiled kindly. ‘Nina, my dear,’ Mr Cowling called, with a hint of impatience, and she obeyed this time and was helped into a crimson velvet interior.

The letter that had come in Kitty’s neat schoolgirl hand had been impossible not to smile at.

I’ve wanted for such a long time to invite you, but really I couldn’t, until the new mattresses were delivered, because the old ones were simply dreadful and you wouldn’t have got a wink of sleep.

And I know you will laugh at me for it, but it has taken all this time to pluck up courage to order them, and I only dared because Lady Stainton is away and does not seem to intend coming back until the autumn, by which time I hope the newness won’t be noticed.

So please, dearest Nina, please won’t you come?

I so long to see you, and to show you my dear little baby.

Mr Cowling had been pleased with the invitation, and immediately said he would rearrange his work so that he would be free. ‘I know you miss your friend Kitty,’ he said, ‘and you never know who else you might meet there. I suppose there’ll be a party staying?’

‘She doesn’t say,’ said Nina.

‘Well, I dare say there will be. Grand folks, probably. Dinner on Saturday evening will be formal. What’s your best evening dress?’

‘My cornflower silk.’

‘No, that won’t do, not with your emeralds.

You’d better get something new made – there’s time.

What’s that pale green colour that’s all the go?

Eau-de-Nile? That would suit you handsomely and go with the emeralds.

And don’t worry about shoes – I’ll have a pair run off for you to match.

’ He had had a last made for her shortly after their wedding.

His wife, he had said, of all people should always be perfectly shod.

‘Your blue will do for the Sunday, with your wedding diamonds. Now, what about day dresses?’

She had found his excitement about the invitation, and his minute overseeing of her wardrobe for the occasion, a useful distraction from thoughts she was anxious to avoid.

She wanted to see Kitty – of course she did – but it meant seeing Giles.

Being under the same roof with Giles. Being in Giles’s company with her husband.

The opportunities for mental disloyalty would be everywhere.

She did not want to be that sort of person.

And yet – and yet – to see him again! Just to see him . . .

They drove up quite a steep hill on a badly kept track, but Mr Cowling, leaning forward clutching the strap and peering out of the window didn’t seem to notice the jolts.

His reward was the first view of the house, just as it was meant to be seen from the curve of the track, looking down on them, long and white, its crenellations sharp against the blue sky.

‘By golly,’ he breathed, ‘it’s a fine-looking place. This is something like!’

He said it again when they pulled up in front of the great door and he saw a butler and two footmen waiting to greet them, as well as Lord and Lady Stainton. ‘This is something like,’ he breathed, only varying the emphasis.

Nina had a moment of fear that he would be too ingratiating towards Giles, and she would be embarrassed.

But of course he had met plenty of grand folks before, right up to and including the King, so he behaved just as he ought – friendly and natural with Giles, just a little fatherly with Kitty – and she felt ashamed of herself for not trusting him.

For her, there were Kitty’s arms and a fierce embrace, and a whisper in her ear, ‘Dear Nina!’ Then she was set back and Kitty looked up into her face (she had forgotten how little Kitty was) and said, ‘You haven’t changed. I’m so glad.’

Kitty, she saw, had changed. She was still shy, but not paralysed by it. There was now a little firmness behind it. She was able to look directly at Mr Cowling as she shook hands with him; and in her clothes and bearing she was definitely a matron, not a maiden.

And then Nina had to greet Giles. Her heart was pounding, her palms were damp, and she felt a pressure in her ears as though she might faint.

She felt his hand take hers, heard his voice like a touch on her skin – ‘Nina, welcome.’ She thought he might kiss her cheek, but after a moment’s hesitation he released her hand and said, ‘Shall we go in?’ And so it was over, the first meeting – which had to be the hardest to bear, didn’t it?

‘No, there’s no party, just us. Were you expecting one? I’m sorry.’

‘Not at all, it’s of no consequence,’ Mr Cowling said genially. ‘I know these two young ladies will have too much to say to each other to put up with having other folk around.’

Giles smiled, and said, ‘As a matter of fact, we haven’t entertained much yet, since the baby was born. And a lot of people are still away. But we’ll try to keep you amused.’

‘No need to be in a fuss about me. I’m looking forward to a good jaw with you about the estate.’

‘Indeed?’ said Giles, startled. What could Cowling care about the estate? He was trying not to look directly at him. He didn’t want anything to remember about him later. He didn’t want anything he could imagine Nina lying in bed with.

‘You must come and see my baby,’ Kitty said to Nina, and dragged her away.

Their old ease of communication did not immediately return.

Partly this was because they no longer shared their days, so had no common ground.

Partly it was the house, Nina decided. Could this chatelaine of the vast and grand Ashmore Castle really be the same Kitty who had shared a bedroom with her, who could never spell ‘apparent’, or subtract one-and-nine from half a crown?

At the top of the stairs Kitty turned and looked at her anxiously, disturbed by the silence. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t find the right question.

Nina filled in for her. ‘I can’t believe you’re really mistress of all this!’ She waved a hand to indicate the vastness of the house.

‘Except that I hardly am,’ Kitty said.

But in the nursery, Nanny and Jessie treated her with proper deference. Nina felt again the distance that had grown up between her and her friend. Chatelaine or not, she was now a mother. Kitty had passed through gates into a different land.

As for the baby – perhaps you had to have one yourself to find them fascinating.

Nina thought Louis quite a nice baby, as they went.

While Kitty pointed out his various beauties, Nina noted that he did not bear any resemblance to Giles as far as she could see.

He didn’t look like Kitty either, for that matter.

To the eye of the amateur, he was just a baby.

Kitty, cradling him, seemed ready to gaze at the sleeping face all day. ‘I worry about him all the time,’ she said.

‘He looks healthy enough,’ Nina said.

‘Oh, he is well,’ Kitty said, ‘but so many things can go wrong. So many diseases. And accidents. Sharp things, hot water, stairs . . . They’re so helpless and fragile. How do they ever survive?’

‘Well, mostly they do – don’t they?’ Nina said, out of her depth.

‘My little brother Peter was strong and healthy, and then suddenly he was gone. If anything happened to Louis, I don’t know how I could bear it. I love him so much it hurts.’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ Nina said after a moment. ‘What you’re feeling, isn’t it rather wonderful to love someone so much? And as he grows up, he will love you just as strongly. That must be worth the price, surely?’