Page 6 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #2)

‘It’s such a pleasure talking to someone who understands one’s references,’ Richard said. ‘Tell me anyway – what’s happened to vex you?’

Nina told him about her aunt’s rejection. ‘She didn’t want to listen to me, was too busy with her own affairs. She’s never been sentimental,’ she concluded, ‘but I thought she was fond of me. And she’s the only family I have.’

‘I’m sure she is fond of you,’ Richard said. ‘The best sort of fondness, the sort that does what’s right for the other person. She’s pushing you out of the nest and making you fly. After all, what did you expect her to do? She can’t change anything in your life now, can she?’

‘I suppose I didn’t expect her to do anything,’ Nina said, forced to think it out. ‘I just thought she would . . . well, sympathise with me.’

‘And what good would that have done? I expect it hurt her more than it hurt you – especially if you let it show on your face that you minded.’

‘Oh dear,’ Nina said. ‘Now I feel guilty as well as sad.’

‘Don’t be sad. Tell me what’s troubling you about your new life in – where is it you’re living?’

‘Northampton,’ she said.

‘I don’t know the place at all. I may have passed through it on a train.’

He raised his eyebrows receptively, but she couldn’t tell him, of course, about her relationship with Mr Cowling, and her puzzle over the bedroom business.

She couldn’t even tell him about Mrs Mitchell and the domestic stalemate – he wasn’t that much of a brother.

She fiddled with a piece of bread-and-butter for a moment, and then said, ‘I hate Northampton. It’s so dull!

’ And was aware that it sounded childish and petulant, not smartly metropolitan at all.

‘Then why do you live there?’ Richard asked, sipping tea.

‘Mr Cowling has a factory there.’

‘Is it necessary to live near the factory?’

‘I don’t know. I suppose so, since he does. Although he has factories in Leicester as well, and he doesn’t seem to need to live there .’

‘Well, it’s all beyond me – I know nothing about manufacturing.

But surely you could ask him. Then, if it’s not necessary, you can move somewhere else.

After all, I’m sure he wants you to be happy.

And if it is necessary to live there, at least you’ll know, and then you’ll just have to make the best of it. ’

It was so simple and obvious, Nina didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it. ‘You do give very wise advice,’ she said, impressed.

He looked alarmed. ‘Please don’t say that – you’ll ruin my reputation for frivolity. I’m famous for never having said a rational word since I was weaned.’

‘As I remember, we’ve had many a sensible conversation in the past,’ Nina said. ‘Now it’s your turn. Tell me why your day was unsatisfactory. Perhaps I can advise you .’

He hesitated. He had visited Mrs Sands that morning, and she had obviously been glad to see him, but at the same time had not wanted him to stay.

She had been nervous about his presence, metaphorically looking over her shoulder the whole time in case they were observed.

There was no thrill for him in the atmosphere of subterfuge.

He wanted to be her acknowledged love. He wanted – dear God, it was true!

– to marry her. But even if she would have accepted him, he couldn’t ask: he had no money, no establishment to invite her to.

She lived in lodgings paid for by the estate.

And he lived on the estate, and was paid a small salary to act as apprentice land agent.

Her lodgings were not even private enough for him to conduct an affair with her – not that she would have done such a thing, even if, as he suspected with more hope than conviction, she was beginning to care for him.

The big, the insuperable barrier between them was that she had been his father’s mistress.

In her eyes, that made intimacy between them tantamount to incest. He didn’t see it that way.

She had slept with his father. He accepted the fact with a shrug.

It was long ago, and his father was dead.

But he supposed women saw things differently.

He had kissed her once, and felt the passion just below the surface.

But she was determined he should never kiss her again.

He couldn’t tell Nina any of that. In the end, all he could say was, ‘I am in love with the wrong person.’

‘Oh,’ said Nina, and felt a rush of sympathy. She almost said, I know what that feels like, then realised what a betrayal it would be. She blushed. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t any wise advice for that situation.’

He had observed the blush, and wondered, but did not probe. ‘I expect it’s a fairly common condition,’ was all he said.

She changed the subject hastily. ‘How is everyone at Ashmore Castle? How is Kitty?’

‘Flourishing,’ he said. ‘Especially now my mama has gone away and left her in peace.’ He explained about Darmstadt.

‘And we’ve had a telegram to say they’re moving with my aunt and uncle to the summer palace, and won’t be back before Easter, so presumably things are going well.

Christmas was perfectly grisly, you know.

Well, it always is, but I’m used to it, and Kitty’s not.

I did my best to liven things up but it’s a thankless task.

And Giles doesn’t help. Frightfully serious fellow, Giles, not the life and soul of the party.

’ He saw her blush deepen, saw her fix her eyes on her teacup, and made some intriguing deductions.

‘How – how is Giles?’ She managed to sound fairly neutral about the question.

‘Busy trying to find out everything that’s wrong with the estate so that he can fix it. He’s out all day long, week in and week out. Perhaps you could come and pay us a visit, cheer us all up. I’m sure Kitty would love to see you. Poor Pusscat leads a very confined life, now she can’t ride.’

He calls her Pusscat? Nina thought. It was a very affectionate pet-name. Could it be, she wondered guiltily, that the ‘wrong person’ he was in love with was Kitty? That would be dreadful. She knew just how dreadful.

‘I’d love to visit,’ she said, ‘but my time is not my own. I’m a married woman, you know.’

‘I do know. But if, say, Lord and Lady Stainton were to invite Mr and Mrs Cowling for a Saturday-to-Monday, would they really refuse?’

Mr Cowling would be delighted, Nina thought, and would certainly accept. But would she want to go? To see Kitty again would be lovely – but painful. And to be under the same roof as Giles? She didn’t think she was ready for that.

She smiled lightly and said, ‘I can’t answer hypothetical questions. No such invitation has been issued. May I pour you some more tea?’

Nina was to meet Mr Cowling at the railway station for the journey home.

Richard insisted on accompanying her there in a cab.

She felt much better and more positive about life after a long and amusing chat with Richard, who seemed to know exactly how to combine serious matters with fun in the perfect proportions.

Mr Cowling’s eyebrows went up when he saw them approaching, and he hurried to meet them with a hearty handshake for Richard. ‘Well, well, this is a nice surprise! How did you happen upon my lady wife, Mr Tallant? I call it very civil of you to bring her safe back to me.’

‘The pleasure has been entirely mine,’ Richard said. ‘We bumped into each other on Piccadilly, and Mrs Cowling did me the honour of taking tea with me at Rampling’s.’

‘Oh, Rampling’s – very respectable! Well, my love, have you had an agreeable day?’ He surveyed her for parcels. ‘You don’t seem to have bought very much.’

‘Very agreeable, thank you. But there wasn’t anything I wanted to buy. And Trump got awfully tired. I think the pavements were too hard for his feet.’

‘Aye, small dogs and London don’t mix. Well, we had better be finding our carriage. Mr Tallant, thank you from my heart for taking care of my precious jewel.’

Nina winced inwardly at the language, but Richard took it in his stride.

‘The pleasure was mine, as I said. And I hope we shall see you soon at Ashmore Castle. I was telling Mrs Cowling that I understand an invitation is in contemplation, and she assured me that it would not be disagreeable to you?’

Mr Cowling’s face reddened. ‘Disagreeable? Oh, my goodness, no, quite the contrary! We should be most obliged, quite delighted. Mrs Cowling misses her friend, I do know. And I’ve visited many fine country seats in my time, but never happened to be at Ashmore Castle.

Pray tell your brother and sister-in-law nothing could be more welcome than an invitation. ’

The train gave a warning foop! at that moment and Nina tugged her husband’s arm and said, ‘We must hurry. Mr Tallant, goodbye, and thank you so much.’

Richard touched his hat in response – and did he, as he was turning away, drop her the ghost of a wink? She wondered about that quite a lot of the way home.

Mr Cowling spent the journey reading the newspaper, while Nina sat with the sleeping Trump on her lap and tried not to feel depressed about going back.

When they were not far out from Northampton station, Mr Cowling folded the paper, cleared his throat, and said, ‘You enjoyed your visit to London, I hope?’

‘Yes, very much,’ Nina roused herself to say.

‘Aye, I thought you did. You were sparkling when I first caught sight of you across the station. Chatting to that young man and sparkling.’

Nina was instantly wary. Did he mind her talking to Richard, being accompanied by Richard? Was it not proper? ‘I thought,’ she began falteringly, ‘that as the brother of Kitty’s husband, and Kitty being my oldest friend, he counted as, well, not exactly family, I suppose, but something very like.’

‘He’s a very nice, civil young man,’ Mr Cowling interrupted, with a warm little feeling, where he hadn’t even known he needed one, that she looked on Richard in a brotherly light.

‘But, my dear, I was thinking you’ve had a dull time of it since Christmas, stuck away alone in the house while I’ve been working so much. And I did promise you a wedding trip.’

Nina’s face cleared. ‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said quickly. ‘I know you’ve been busy.’

‘So I have, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been neglecting you. So how would you like to go away for Easter?’

‘Away? Oh, that would be lovely!’ Nina cried.

‘The fact of the matter is that I have to spend some time in Market Harborough. There’s a stocking factory there that I’m thinking of buying, and I need to look over it, inspect the books, see what I could do with it. You’ve never seen my house there, have you?’

Not Paris, or Vienna, or Florence, then. But anywhere was a change. ‘What’s it like?’ she asked.

‘Market Harborough? Oh, a nice little old town, with a market place. Handsome church. Pretty country all around. And the hunt – though they won’t still be hunting by then, I don’t suppose.

But we could hire horses and have a bit of a ride around, if you’d like that.

Not that I’m anything of a horseman, but I might stick in the saddle for an hour to please you.

It’s not far from Wigston, where I was born, you know – fifteen, seventeen miles maybe. ’

‘I should like to see where you were born.’

‘It’s just a village, nothing grand, but Decius is from there, too, and his family is still there.’

‘And what’s your house like?’

‘That’s the slug in the cabbage. It’s a very old house, nothing like Beechcroft, a bit grim to my way of thinking, and I’m afraid you wouldn’t be very comfortable there. But for a short visit we might manage, perhaps?’

‘I’m sure we could,’ Nina said.

‘I’ve an old couple looks after it, the Deerings.

He minds the gardens and does odd jobs. She used to be cook for the Ampleforths, who owned the house before me.

Old family, lived there for centuries, till they lost their fortune.

I bought the house cheap, to do them a favour: Sidney Ampleforth was a good customer of mine.

But I’ve never done anything to it. Most in general I take Moxton with me when I visit, and manage pretty well all round.

But I’m useder to roughing it than you. We might take Mrs Mitchell—’

‘Oh, no,’ Nina said quickly. ‘No need to trouble her. I’m sure we can manage beautifully with the Deerings.’

He looked pleased at her willingness to adapt.

‘I can send Mrs Deering a note, ask her to take on a couple of maids. Deering and Moxton between them’ll manage the other stuff.

And one thing, you can be sure of good victuals.

Mrs Deering’s a fine cook. I’ve always done with plain grub, but it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a bit of fancy stuff now and then. ’

‘That reminds me,’ Nina said, and produced the small package from Fortnum’s. ‘I bought this for you.’

He opened it, and looked as struck as if she had given him all the treasures of the Orient.

His eyes, when he lifted them to her, were definitely moist. ‘You remembered I like it,’ he said reverently.

‘You bought me a present – all those shops in London and this is all you bought? Oh, my dear . . .’

Nina blushed and looked away. It was too much thanks for something so small, and too much love for him to be feeling for her.

She did not deserve it. Now she felt guilty that she had been surly and discontented all day.

The burden and responsibility of someone loving you more than you loved them came home to her.

Until now, she would have thought that the opposite situation was the more uncomfortable.