Page 52 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘I’ll show you the letter. She said she wouldn’t be able to get back in time. And we can’t delay the funeral any longer in this weather. She said to continue without her.’

‘But she’ll come afterwards?’

‘There was no suggestion of that in her letter. She said she couldn’t leave our mother at the moment.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t think she has a maternal bone in her body. Even as a child, she never played with dolls.’

‘I can’t understand it,’ Kitty said. ‘I don’t even like leaving the boys in London for a few days.’

‘You’re going back?’

‘The day after tomorrow, to supervise the packing, and I’ll bring them home on Friday. The Season’s almost over now, and I don’t mind missing the last few events.’

‘I’m glad,’ he said. ‘The house isn’t the same without you.’

She would sooner he had said he had missed her, but it was something.

‘Good to have you back, Miss Hatto,’ Mrs Webster said.

Kitty’s maid paused to strip off her gloves and said, ‘A sad occasion.’

‘They thought he was getting better,’ Rose said, ‘but then the pneumonia came on. Struggling for breath at the end. I never liked the brat, but it wasn’t a nice way to go.’

‘Lady Rachel didn’t come, then?’ Mrs Webster said.

It wasn’t enough of a question for Miss Hatto, who never spoke much anyway, to make an answer.

Children died all the time, you had to expect it, and though it was sad for the mother, and possibly the father, it meant little to the rest of the world.

The loss of an unformed child was not like the loss of an adult, a unique and irreplaceable personality, whose character had been years in the making.

The proper obsequies had to be observed for a viscount, even though he had been a minor, but it was no use pretending that anyone had cared about Arthur.

‘I’d better get my lady’s blacks unpacked,’ she said.

‘I have a spare black armband for you, if you need it,’ Mrs Webster said, as the neat little figure went past her towards the stairs.

‘Thank you, I’ve already sewn mine on,’ Miss Hatto replied.

‘She’s a funny one,’ Rose remarked, when she was out of hearing. ‘A lady’s maid who won’t gossip? Makes you miss old Taylor sometimes.’

‘Miss Taylor didn’t gossip,’ said Mrs Webster.

‘She wouldn’t have called it that, but she had ways of letting you know what was going on,’ said Rose. ‘Not that I needed it when Lady Linda was here. She always told me everything.’

‘It’s a surprise, her not coming for the funeral.’

‘Not to me. She never wanted Arabella, and once the estate was gone and there was nothing for Arthur to inherit, she had no use for him either.’

‘Speaking of which, what do you know about the heir – the new Lord Cordwell?’

‘No more than you, that he’s coming tonight. I don’t suppose anyone ever thought he’d be needed, once Lady Linda had a boy.’ Afton appeared, coming down from the hall, and Rose asked, ‘What time is Lord Cordwell arriving, Mr Afton?’

‘Not until half past six,’ Afton said. ‘If the train’s late, he’ll have to go straight up to dress. You’ve put him in the Tapestry Room?’

‘It’s all ready for him.’

‘He’s not bringing a manservant?’ Mrs Webster queried.

‘Probably hasn’t got one,’ said Rose. ‘He’s only a country solicitor.’

‘He might have one and not bother to bring him for such a short stay,’ Afton said, with a hint of rebuke.

‘And no Mr Crooks to fill the gap. Will you give him William?’

‘I’ll need William to be down here while I’m dressing his lordship,’ said Afton, feeling a little distracted. Combining butler and valet was all very well, as long as there were no guests. ‘Sam can take care of him as well as Mr Richard.’

The new Viscount Cordwell stepped down from the carriage to a greeting party of Giles and Richard – who had been out on business when Kitty and Alice arrived – and two footmen.

Even this modest honour seemed to overpower him.

He stopped and looked around, then up at the facade of the house, before advancing uncertainly towards the two men.

‘The name’s Cordwell,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid the train was late.

I’m sorry to have kept your horses standing. ’

‘Welcome to Ashmore Castle,’ said Richard. ‘I’m Richard Tallant and this is Lord Stainton. Only cousins by marriage, but please call us Cousin Richard and Cousin Giles.’

‘Thank you,’ he said blankly. He was a well-favoured young man, who looked about thirty, and was wearing a light grey suit with a black armband, and a soft hat.

He had stepped down with a leather holdall in his hand.

Sam, the second footman, was hovering at his elbow, trying to take it from him.

Cordwell noticed at last and relinquished it, slightly reluctantly.

‘Is that all your luggage?’ Giles asked.

‘Er – yes. What time is the funeral tomorrow?’

‘At eleven. And Mr Fossey, of Fossey, Gleeson and Tuke, will be here just after breakfast, to have a word, if that’s all right.’

‘I did have a letter from them,’ said Cordwell. He had a very slight accent, no more than a modest West Country roundness of the vowels, but it was noticeable next to the clipped voices of the brothers. ‘I’m not sure what there is to discuss, though.’

‘Just tidying things up,’ Giles said. ‘I’m afraid we have to go straight up to change.’

‘Sam, here, will attend to you,’ said Richard, extending a hand towards the door to get him moving. ‘We’ve put you in the Tapestry Room.’

‘Very well,’ he said, and followed Sam inside.

Richard and Giles lingered a little behind to exchange a glance. ‘Charm personified,’ said Richard.

‘It can’t be easy for him,’ Giles offered in excuse.

‘But can he possibly have evening clothes and a frock coat in that bag?’ Richard said with a suppressed grin.

‘And where has he hidden his silk hat?’ Giles murmured.

‘Perhaps he has a gibus,’ Richard said. ‘I wish Crooks was here to sort him out.’

Mr Fossey was the grandson of the original Fossey of Fossey, Gleeson and Tuke, and was young enough not to be too stately with the new viscount, even though his job was to tell him that no money or property whatsoever came with the title.

‘I hope you don’t mind my staying for the meeting,’ Giles said to Cordwell. ‘I would like to be sure that you understand the arrangements that had to be made when my brother-in-law Gerald died.’

‘I believe there was considerable debt,’ said Cordwell.

Giles nodded. ‘So much so that the entire estate was taken up with discharging it.’

‘And you took the widow and children into your own house?’ He had a flat way of talking that gave no hint as to his approval or otherwise.

‘I really had no choice,’ Giles said. ‘I could not leave them destitute.’

‘I knew nothing of all this,’ said Cordwell.

Mr Fossey spoke up. ‘Naturally, at the time there was no thought that it would be necessary to inform you of how matters stood.’

Cordwell looked at Giles. ‘I did not mean any criticism. I see that you did the best you could in the circumstances.’ It sounded less than generous to Giles, but he hoped it was just Cordwell’s manner. ‘Holme Manor was sold?’

‘The house and what little land was left. The rest of the land had already been sold over the years. The finances had been suffering for a long time.’

‘I see.’

‘Were you acquainted with my brother-in-law?’ Giles asked, hoping to get a little more out of him.

‘Not at all,’ said Cordwell. ‘My grandfather was his grandfather’s cousin, so Heaven knows what relation that made me.

Third cousin, possibly? Something very remote, anyway.

My father told me when I was a child that we had a distant relation who was a lord, but naturally we never thought anything of it.

We never met any of them. I made my own way in the world.

My father was a solicitor before me, but it was a small country practice when I joined it.

I’m the one who built it up to what it is today.

’ He frowned. ‘I’m not sure I care for being “Viscount Cordwell”.

I don’t know how it will affect my business.

I don’t want people to think I’m getting above myself. ’

‘There is no necessity for you to use the title if you don’t want to, but I don’t imagine it will do you any harm with your clients,’ said Fossey. ‘You might even win one or two new ones.’

‘And your wife may enjoy being Lady Cordwell,’ Giles added. ‘Ladies generally set more store by that sort of thing.’

‘Oh, I’m not married,’ Cordwell said bluntly. ‘I’ve never had time – too busy building up the business.’

That, Giles thought, might explain a certain roughness-around-the-edges. ‘Well, there’s plenty of time,’ he said, smiling.

Cordwell only looked at him blankly.

Fossey cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps I may go through the formalities with you, my lord, for the transfer of the title, show you the coat of arms and mention the benefits and duties associated with it?’

When that was done, Giles insisted on Fossey showing him the accounts concerning the winding-up of the estate. He listened to and looked at everything in silence, not even responding to Fossey’s courteous interjections of ‘As a man of the law you will know, of course . . .’

They had come to a natural pause when the dressing bell was rung downstairs. ‘We must go up and change,’ Giles said. ‘Thank you, Mr Fossey, for explaining everything so clearly.’

Fossey bowed, and said to Cordwell, ‘I hope you feel you are in possession of all the necessary information now, my lord. Is there anything further you wish to ask me?’

‘No,’ said Cordwell. ‘There’s not much to it.’ As Fossey was gathering together his papers, Giles walked with Cordwell to the library door; and the viscount said suddenly, ‘There were two children, weren’t there? A girl as well? What happened to her?’

‘She’s living here, at Ashmore Castle. Arabella. She’s ten years old.’

Cordwell gave him a cautious look. ‘What happens to her now?’

‘Um – nothing in particular. She’ll remain here.’ He wasn’t sure what was being asked. ‘We have a governess for her.’