Page 8 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #2)

‘Is your meeting finished?’ she said. He had been in the library all morning with Adeane, the bailiff, and Markham, his agent.

‘Yes, just this minute. You look cosy. Have you been out?’

‘I went to look at the new kitchen garden. Peason wants to start some things off – he says we might have green peas this year.’

‘Excellent news,’ Giles said, but she could see his mind was elsewhere, and she felt a foreboding. ‘I just came to tell you I shan’t be in to luncheon after all. I’m going to ride out to one of the farms – Hundon’s. Adeane thinks I should see conditions there for myself.’

Kitty was careful to show no disappointment. He grew irritated if he thought she was ‘clinging’ to him. She said evenly, ‘I suppose Richard can look after me.’

‘Richard’s coming with me. We probably shan’t be back before the dressing-bell.’

‘Oh,’ said Kitty. Then, with an effort, ‘We needn’t dress tonight, if you don’t want. As there’s no company.’

Giles nodded. ‘Good. Then I shall see you at the dinner table.’

He was obviously about to leave, and she asked, almost at random, just to keep him a moment longer, ‘Did Adeane say anything about Aaron Cutmore?’

‘Cutmore? The woodsman?’ She nodded. ‘How do you come to know about him?’

‘Alice said something about him retiring. I don’t know how she heard. He had an accident, I think she said.’

‘Cut his foot badly, and it’s not healing properly, and he’s feeling his age all of a sudden. So he wants to retire. Going to live with his sister and brother-in-law in the village, I understand.’

‘Have you found someone else for the job?’

‘Adeane’s got someone lined up. Why the sudden interest?’

‘Just because Alice was talking about it, that’s all.’

‘You can tell her we’re going to offer it to the assistant blacksmith, Josh Brandom’s brother,’ Giles said. ‘She’ll know who that is – she was always hanging about the forge when she was younger.’

‘The blacksmith?’ Kitty queried. ‘Is that an odd choice?’

‘I don’t know much about him, but Adeane thinks he has all the woodcraft skills he needs. And he’s young and strong, which is an advantage. Well, I must be off. They’re waiting for me.’

And, with a nod, he was gone, the dogs pattering after him.

Kitty sighed, and picked up her needle again. At least she would have something to tell Alice at luncheon – though there was never any difficulty in getting Alice to talk.

She had hardly done a dozen stitches when she became aware that she needed the closet, and heaved herself carefully to her feet.

They’d had washdown water-closets at home: here there were chamber pots at night, and the two closets – one on this floor and one on the floor below – had to be emptied at night by the close-man.

She had never dared to voice distaste for the system.

She could imagine the reproach it would provoke: middle-class squeamishness.

What else could you expect of a jam heiress?

As she reached the door, her foot caught in a hole in the carpet. Ungainly and heavy, she was unable to recover herself, and went sprawling, face down, half through the doorway into the corridor.

She lay breathless, shocked. The baby! her mind cried. Have I hurt the baby? She couldn’t move or make a sound for sheer fright.

Someone was coming – one of the maids. It was the sewing-maid, Dory, with a basket of mending. ‘Are you all right, my lady? Did you faint?’

‘Tripped,’ Kitty was able to say. ‘Carpet.’

Dory knelt beside her. ‘Let me turn you over.’ She got Kitty on her back, propped against her knee, and said, ‘By your leave, my lady . . .’ She laid a firm but gentle hand on Kitty’s bulge. ‘Have you got a pain anywhere?’

‘I – I don’t think so,’ Kitty said. ‘But I fell. The baby! Have I hurt it?’

‘You’ve had a shock,’ said Dory, ‘but if you’ve no pain, that’s a good sign. We’ll get you to your room, and you can rest. Try not to worry. Babies are very tough, you know.’

Kitty looked up into the kindly face. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I came from a big family, my lady. And I had one of my own. So I do know a bit about babies.’

Here now was Uncle Sebastian, hurrying towards them. ‘I’ll ring for help,’ he said at once.

‘No, please, I think I can get up,’ Kitty said. Between them they got her to her feet, and helped her back to the sofa in the Peacock Room.

‘You should be carried to your room,’ Uncle Sebastian said. ‘I’ll ring for a couple of footmen. And the doctor must be sent for. I suppose Giles is out somewhere. Do you want your maid?’

‘I’m all right, I think,’ Kitty said. ‘Just a little shaken.’

‘Don’t fuss her,’ Dory said in a low voice. ‘Let her be.’

Even in her shaken state, Kitty thought it was an odd way for the maid to address him – as though they were equals, or old friends. ‘I’ll just rest here for a bit,’ she said. ‘Then I can walk back to my room.’

‘I’ll sit with you, my lady,’ Dory said. She looked at Uncle Sebastian. ‘Mrs Webster did ought to be told, though, just in case.’

‘I’ll do that,’ he said, ‘And we’ll have the doctor. Better safe than sorry.’ With one more concerned look at Kitty, he went out.

Dory smiled at Kitty. ‘There, he’s gone.

Men always get in a fuss when it’s anything to do with babies.

Now, you’re sure you’ve no pain? Good, then a little rest, and I expect you’ll be fine again.

What was it tripped you, my lady? Oh, yes, I see it.

That’s a bad place to have a hole, right by the door. I’ll get that mended right away.’

‘I don’t know if Lady Stainton would want it mended,’ Kitty said dolefully. ‘She doesn’t like anything to be changed.’

Dory gave her a sympathetic look. ‘She won’t even notice, I promise you. New things perhaps, but not old things that are just a bit less worn and torn.’

That made Kitty think, which was a good thing as it stopped her worrying about the baby. And as she rested and watched Dory working on her mending, she started to devise a plan.

The fresh and breezy day was perfect for riding.

Giles was on Vipsania, his new road horse; Richard was riding one-handed on steady old Trooper, his other hand tucked in between his buttons to rest his damaged shoulder.

The London sawbones had said it would probably never be quite right after he broke it in a motor-car smash.

Adeane, the bailiff, was in the pony trap, pulled by dun Biscuit, and Tiger and Isaac ranged about to either side of the track.

They passed Gale’s Cottage, the garden trim with growing shoots of vegetables, and Richard waved to Mrs Gale, taking advantage of the breeze to hang out washing.

Beyond Gale’s the verge and ditch that should have bordered the road gradually disappeared under a tangle of blackberry and hemlock, and some thrusting, upright pale green plants Richard did not recognise.

Beyond, the gentle slope of the field was covered with bracken, into which the lurchers plunged excitedly and disappeared.

Richard thought the bracken looked rather handsome, bending like a green sea in the breeze, and it was fun to see the movement the dogs made through it – it made him think of sinister sea creatures waiting to break the surface.

But Adeane turned his head back to say, ‘This is Bunce’s Six Acre. Ought by rights to be cleared, my lord. Bracken is poisonous to cattle, as you know.’

‘Does Bunce put his cattle in here?’ Richard said. ‘Surely not.’

‘No, sir, but his hedges are in such poor heart, they could break out and find their way here easy enough. And he’s let the rest of his fields tumble down into rough pasture.’

‘The more I learn about farming, the more I wonder why anybody tries it,’ Richard said. ‘I always thought you just pushed an animal into a nice green space and waited for it to make milk or bacon or mutton cutlets. Now I learn all this lovely greenery is useless.’

‘Not just useless, but dangerous,’ Giles said. ‘And thistle and ragwort and yew—’

‘And buttercups, for goodness’ sake!’ Richard interrupted. ‘Pretty little buttercups that I used to tease the girls with. Who could suspect them of villainy?’

‘What we need,’ Adeane said stolidly, ‘is a programme of draining, harrowing and reseeding to get the pastures up to scratch.’ He looked at Giles. ‘Improve the grazing and you improve the stock.’

The dogs rejoined them, bursting out of a low gap in the hedge.

‘We are what we eat,’ Giles said.

‘Was Hippocrates a farmer?’ Richard asked.

‘Virgil was,’ Giles replied.

Adeane looked puzzled. ‘Is that Virgil Smithson you’re referring to, my lord? He’s got a smallholding over Asham Bois way, but I wouldn’t call him a farmer. Two pigs, four cows and a dozen chickens, last time I heard.’

‘Different Virgil,’ Richard said, suppressing laughter. ‘Don’t worry about it. Ah, is this the man himself, by any chance? I’ve never met the chap, but if anyone ever looked like a Bunce, this is he.’

A bone-thin man, trousers held up by baling-string, threadbare jacket, cap pulled down hard over his head, and an unshaven, weatherbeaten face, was standing hunched, hands in pockets, staring moodily over a gate at the cows in the field beyond.

He turned his head at their approach. A long-legged brown dog appeared from somewhere near his feet and ran towards Tiger and Isaac, and there was a tense, erect-tailed meeting in the middle of the track.

‘Gerroff, dog!’ the man growled, and the brown cur ran back to circle him, followed by the lurchers, who inspected the farmer’s boots and trousers with unembarrassed interest.

‘Now then, Bunce,’ said Adeane, checking the pony. ‘Here’s his lordship come to see how you’re getting on.’

Bunce removed his hands from his pockets and, after a moment’s thought, his cap from his head, but he looked at Giles without welcome. ‘Badly, how else d’ye think?’ he muttered. The lurchers were inviting the brown dog to a lovely game, but Bunce growled at it again, and it slunk back to his side.