Page 45 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘Quite proper,’ said Lady Marlow. Lord Marlow, who would always sooner have sat in his own study with the newspaper in the evening than venture into someone else’s house, nevertheless put on full fig and meekly followed his wife wherever she decreed they should be seen.

‘But I’ll mention that the Argylls will be there,’ Caroline went on. ‘I expect Fergus would like Giulia to meet them.’

‘Thank you, dear,’ said Lady Marlow.

Lady Beaminster reached the end of her thought process. ‘I do think too much intellect is a mistake in a female. A gentleman does not like to be shown up in front of others.’

‘Indeed,’ said Lady Marlow. ‘No real lady would ever be contentious in company. But it is quite possible to have intellect and be graceful about it.’

Lady Beaminster was baffled again.

Giles had plenty of work to do: the farms to ride around; agent, bailiff, gamekeeper, woodsman and tenants to interview; neighbours and village worthies to keep in touch with.

And in the evenings there were letters to answer, agricultural matters to study, books and articles to read.

But the fact was that as the days accumulated he found himself noticing that he was alone in the house.

When it was full, he was constantly seeking escape.

But it was one thing to want solitude, another to have it thrust upon him.

His appetite, never very robust, quailed at eating alone at a large table: he felt he might drown in that lake of polished mahogany.

He took to having his meals on a tray in the library; but still he had to endure being consulted about them every day.

When Kitty was there, she gave orders to Mrs Webster every morning, choosing things she knew he would like.

He appreciated now what a burden that took from his shoulders.

Early summer’s fresh vegetables and soft fruits were coming in, the things you longed for all through winter and spring, but it took the joy away to have to make decisions.

Talking about food was the worst possible prelude to eating it.

He had forgotten about the only other occupants of the house – his niece and nephew, Linda’s children – because he never saw them. Then one day when he came in from a farm visit, Afton intercepted him in the hall. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord. We seem to have a crisis.’

‘What sort of crisis?’ he asked tersely. He noticed the governess, Miss Kettel, lurking behind Afton; and behind her, Arabella.

‘Young Lord Cordwell seems to have gone missing, my lord,’ said Afton. He beckoned Miss Kettel forward.

‘We were having a lesson in astronomy,’ she explained. ‘I was only absent for a moment, to get a ball out of the cupboard to represent the planet Mars, and when I returned, he had gone.’

‘We searched the house, my lord,’ Afton said, ‘in case he was hiding, but one of the stable boys, Bobby, thought he saw him on the track going out towards Crown Woods.’

‘Have you sent anyone out to look for him?’ Giles asked.

‘Not yet, my lord. I’ve only just heard.’

Giles cursed very softly, then called Arabella forward.

She had just turned ten, and was a plain child, with a nose too big for her face, and freckles, and impossible mouse-coloured hair that never looked smooth.

Her stout, undeveloped body was packed into an unbecoming dress of dull red-brown stuff.

She had a look of her mother about her. Her late father had been quite a handsome man, but unluckily she hadn’t taken after him.

‘What’s all this about?’ he asked her. Her eyes slid about.

‘Where is Arthur? I know you know something.’ He grabbed her shoulders, not roughly, but with intent.

‘Where has he gone? You must tell me. He’s only a little boy.

He could get into trouble, he could be hurt.

You’re older than him, you’re supposed to look after him. ’

‘I told him not to,’ she said, defending herself.

‘Arabella!’ Miss Kettel said in shocked tones. ‘You told me you knew nothing about it.’

She wriggled out of Giles’s grip. ‘Can I go out riding now?’

‘There’ll be no more riding for you if you don’t tell me everything,’ Giles said. ‘Where has he gone?’

She sighed, then said, in a mutter, ‘He’s run away.’

It took patient questioning to prise the story out of her.

They had been reading the story of Dick Whittington, and he had decided to emulate the hero and run away to London, where the streets were paved with gold, to seek his fortune.

‘Only he didn’t have a cat,’ Arabella said. ‘So he was going to take Goosebumps.’

Giles looked at Afton.

‘The boy Bobby saw was on foot,’ Afton said. ‘I’ll check with the stables if Goosebumps is missing.’

Giles turned back to Arabella. ‘London’s a long way. What did he take with him?’

‘He wanted to make a bundle on a stick like in the picture, but he couldn’t make it stay on, so he put things in his pockets. His pen-knife and catapult and some biscuits and Pepper.’

‘He took pepper with him?’ Giles was, baffled. ‘What on earth for?’

Miss Kettel intervened. ‘It’s a toy pig made of felt. He’s never parted from it.’

‘We must organise a search,’ Giles said, with a sigh. ‘Probably he hasn’t got far. If he was heading for Crown Woods he was going in the wrong direction anyway.’

‘I’m so sorry, my lord,’ Miss Kettel said, twisting her hands together. ‘I really only turned my back for a moment.’

‘I’ve heard he’s getting too much for you to handle,’ Giles said.

‘He’s a good boy really,’ she said. ‘But restless. They lead such confined lives,’ she added, in a low voice so that Arabella, who was patting the dogs, wouldn’t hear.

Giles’s nostrils flared as he detected a criticism. ‘Let’s concentrate on finding the boy first. Then we can look into the children’s situation. And your role in all this.’

He saw her blanch as he turned away, and was not sorry. This was her fault entirely.

The pony, Goosebumps, was not missing: evidently Arthur had been unable to extract him from the busy stable yard.

Every horse was now utilised with all the grooms and boys riding, while the footmen and house boys went out on foot.

Everyone they passed was to be put on alert, all the farmers told to keep an eye out for the boy, especially as it started to get dark – he would probably seek shelter somewhere.

Giles went out on Vipsania, his road horse, and passed from a state of annoyance to a state of worry.

Arthur was a very small boy, not yet nine years old, and had never been out on his own, as far as Giles knew.

Miss Kettel was right: the children were too much confined.

A boy ought to be roaming the fields and exploring with his dog at his heels, as he had been at Arthur’s age with his spaniel Buffy.

But Arthur, of course, was not on his own estate, which had been sold when his bankrupt father died.

There was no reason for him to learn every inch of Ashmore, which would never be his.

He rode out past Crown Woods and towards Motte Woods, calling in at Hillbrow Farm to pass the word and ask if anyone had seen him. Then, reaching Motte Woods, he thought to call on Axe Brandom, his woodsman, who had a cottage there.

A small terrier ran out and barked as he rode into the beaten-earth yard, and the woodsman came out from his saw-pit, sawdust on his shoulders and leather apron.

‘Afternoon, my lord,’ he said, and stood and waited for Giles to explain his visit.

He was, Giles thought, the most extraordinarily still man he’d ever known.

There was never any unnecessary movement, no wasted words: most people chattered and fidgeted, but Axe listened and observed, then acted, neatly and efficiently.

It was no wonder animals loved him: Giles had observed him sometimes when he had worked at the village smithy, and had seen the most skittish horse grow quiet in his hands.

‘My nephew has gone missing, Brandom,’ Giles explained. ‘Told his sister he was running away to London to seek his fortune, but he was seen heading this way. He’s only eight years old and not country wise.’

Axe said, ‘I haven’t seen him, my lord. But I’ll keep an eye out. Or would you like me to search the area?’

‘Yes, if you will. I’ve got everyone I can out, on foot and on horseback. He was last seen by Crown Woods heading in this direction.’

‘I don’t think he’s in my woods. I’ve heard no disturbance,’ said Axe. ‘A tired boy would likely head downhill.’ He looked at the sky. ‘Some showers coming over. He’ll try and shelter.’

‘Yes, check any outbuildings.’

‘I’ll go out on my horse, my lord, cover more ground.’

‘Thanks,’ said Giles, and turned Vipsania. He felt oddly comforted that Axe Brandom was going to look – as though that made all the difference! It was the quality of the man, he thought, to reassure.

When Vipsania was tired he headed back to the Castle, hoping he would find a tear-stained and chastened boy being simultaneously comforted and scolded by the females of the house.

But Giddins, the head man, took Vipsania’s rein from him as he dismounted and said there was no news yet.

When he went into the hall, Afton confirmed the negative.

‘Should I send down to the village, my lord, and inform the police?’

‘Might be as well,’ Giles said. It was a very big world out there, and it would start to get dark soon.

Inwardly he cursed his sister for abandoning her children to him.

Hadn’t he enough unwanted responsibility with the estate?

Afton was looking at him with sympathy, but he felt suddenly lonely.

There was no-one to share the burden with him.

Even Kitty had gone off to London to enjoy herself.

‘We’ll find him, my lord,’ Afton said.

‘Will we? How many trees are there in Buckinghamshire, do you think? How many miles of hedges, acres of field?’