Page 59 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #2)
He was there at breakfast when she went down, slowly consuming eggs and sausages. He had the newspaper open, but put it aside as soon as she came in. He smiled tentatively at her, as if unsure how she would respond. She smiled with relief, and said, ‘Good morning.’
He jumped straight in. ‘I have to go to Leicester for a few days, on business. Would you like to come with me? I usually stay in lodgings when I’m there, but we can stay at a hotel, and you can look around the place while I’m busy.
There’s some fine shops and old buildings.
I won’t need Decius with me all the time – he can show you around.
And he can take you to Wigston to meet his family if you’d like. ’
‘Oh, yes, I would,’ Nina said. ‘He’s always talking about them.’
‘Aye, they’re a rum lot, those Blakes. Think the world of each other. It’s pretty to see, family feeling like that,’ he added wistfully.
‘I never had brothers and sisters either,’ she said, and he was touched that she had read his thought.
‘So you’ll come.’
‘Yes, please.’
Nina was thinking that it would be good to get away for a few days.
Bobby wouldn’t know about the quarrel, and would probably come calling.
Would Nina be forced to deny her? That would be awful.
Were people really talking? Would she be stared at or shunned if she went out walking?
Problems would have to be faced, but she would prefer to put them off for a bit until she’d had time to think properly.
And then she realised that Mr Cowling – who had never invited her on a business trip before – was probably thinking just the same things.
They stayed at the Grand Hotel in Granby Street. Mr Cowling took his man, Moxton, but said that Nina didn’t need to take Tina if she didn’t want to – the Grand would have chambermaids accustomed to act as temporary ladies’ maids.
The Grand was a new hotel, very ornate, built in the European Renaissance style in red brick with white copings, white pinnacles, and a dome and lantern on top that made it look like a wedding-cake.
Inside there was everything you could want in the way of moulded and painted ceilings, gilded woodwork, elaborate plasterwork, marble fireplaces, vast mirrors, onyx pillars, glittering chandeliers, opulent carpets in rich colours.
There was a magnificent central staircase lit by the glass dome high above, and enormous public saloons with every facility offered to the guests, including a coffee room and a palm court.
Nina was struck dumb when they first entered at the sheer size and magnificence of it all.
It didn’t seem real. Her hand was through Mr Cowling’s arm, and he pressed it against her ribs.
She thought it was for her reassurance, but when she glanced up at him, she saw that he was looking about with his ‘Now this is something like !’ expression; and she realised that this was how he would like his own house to be.
She understood then what a wrench it had been for him to go along with her desire to live in Wriothesby House without completely redesigning it. He had made a noble sacrifice for her.
He was not at all intimidated by the Grand’s glories, strode masterfully, commanded pages, and behaved as though born to such extravagances.
Nina was glad of his self-confidence, feeling she might really get lost in this vast palace, both physically and spiritually.
He had taken a suite, with a bedroom, sitting-room and, wonder of wonders, a bathroom, all for them.
It was decorated in pink and white and gold, and the furniture was ‘one of those French Louis, fifteenth or sixteenth, can’t remember,’ said Mr Cowling, but all brand new, of course.
And on the round table in the sitting-room there was an arrangement of fruit in a sort of urn like a Bacchic cornucopia, which was all of two feet high and was topped with a bunch of black grapes that tumbled artistically down the side.
‘Well, I think we can scrape by all right in here, don’t you, Mrs Cowling?’ her husband said for the sake of the page-boy, and sent him away with a tip that made him blink.
Nina was torn between a desire to giggle madly, and the conviction that her clothes were not nearly good enough for the place.
It was a happy few days. The bit she liked best was being taken by Decius to meet his family, whom she instantly loved.
His father was the dream of a rector, tall and lean and scholarly, white-haired and white-bearded, with a mild, sensitive face and clear-sighted blue eyes – you felt that he would see right through you at first glance, recognise all your faults and failings, and forgive and love you even so.
Mrs Blake was motherly and brisk, so fast-moving it was hard to get any clear picture of her until you’d been tracking her for a while as she darted back and forth attending to things.
But when you spoke to her she really looked at you, and then you saw where Decius had got his exceptional good looks.
She was beautiful. As well as brisk and busy she was very gay, and laughter seemed to spring up around her, like flowers springing wherever Persephone trod.
Nina never did entirely sort out the various brothers and sisters and their spouses and children.
There were a good many of them around, and others came and went during the day, and they all seemed very handsome and good-humoured, ready to pet and admire Nina and interested in everything about her.
They sat down to a meal at a very large table and Nina calculated there were about twenty there, not counting younger children who had their own table and ran back and forth helping, and even smaller children who sat on laps at the table and were charming and well-behaved, and followed the conversation with their big eyes.
Nina had the place of honour next to the rector, and had a very interesting talk with him about Greek and Roman mythology.
Decius, on her other side, encouraged her to ask the elder Mr Blake about the legends of Atlantis, one of his interests, and he told her all about Pliny’s account and various pieces of evidence that it was not a myth but had actually existed.
The time flew past, and Nina was sorry when it was time to go.
‘But you’ll come again, my dear?’ Mrs Blake said, embracing her like a mother. ‘We’d love to see you. And remember, we can always find a bed for a friend, if you don’t mind not being luxurious.’
‘What are your plans for tomorrow?’ Mr Blake asked, shaking his son’s hand vigorously.
‘Haven’t any at the moment,’ Decius said. ‘I’d like to show Mrs Cowling some of the countryside – it’s pretty at this time of year. We could hire a carriage, I suppose.’
‘You should take her to Evington Manor,’ said Mr Blake.
‘Oh, yes – there’s a breakdown sale there tomorrow,’ said Mrs Blake.
‘Poor Lord Stoughton is all to pieces and everything’s to be sold.
But the grounds are so pretty, with the Washbrook running through, and the ornamental lake, and the flower gardens.
And it will be the last chance to see the interior, before everything goes.
’ She turned to Nina. ‘Evington was accounted one of the finest houses in Leicestershire, and Lord Stoughton was a great collector. It was open to the public at certain times, and always very popular with visitors.’
‘His father’s debts undid him, poor man,’ said Mr Blake. ‘A tragedy to see such a lovely place go under the hammer. And his library! I would love to go there myself tomorrow and bid for some of his books—’
‘But I told the rector, if he brought one more book into this house I would run away,’ Mrs Blake said, laughing affectionately at her husband.
‘You can positively see the walls of this house bulging from the outside. One more book would burst it like a paper bag.’ Her husband shook his head smilingly at her exaggeration.
‘I’ve never seen a sale like that,’ Nina said. ‘It does sound so sad. Do they really have to sell everything?’
‘Everything. Furniture, carpets, paintings, silver, clocks – books,’ said Mr Blake.
‘All the animals, too, but they went last week. And the house itself and the land go under the hammer next week. They’re so heavily mortgaged, it’s said he’ll only just clear his debts.
Heaven knows how the poor man will live.
’ A thoughtful look came over his face, and his eyes grew distant.
Decius looked at Nina and winked. ‘I know that look – it means a sermon is brewing. Poor Stoughton’s ill-fortune will be turned to good account from the pulpit on Sunday.’
Mrs Blake slapped his wrist. ‘Don’t be naughty. As if your father would ever exploit an unfortunate!’
Mr Cowling invited Decius to dine with them at the hotel that evening.
He was glad to see Nina so animated, though at the same time wistful that it was with Decius, not with him, that she was having such a good time.
He had been pleased to see how impressed she was with the Grand, and hoped she might have taken some ideas about how the inside of a gentleman’s house ought to look.
He had his dissatisfactions, too. For one thing, though Leicester had fine shops and she had used a whole morning going round them, she hadn’t bought anything, despite his giving her a fistful of banknotes and telling her to charge anything she fancied.
But not so much as a pair of silk stockings had she bought for herself!