Page 79 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

There was end-of-term excitement at the Blackwood.

Not a great deal of work got done. Some of the girls had decorated the common room with paper garlands; others had brought in holly, laurel and ivy and made Christmas wreaths to hang on the doors and in the windows.

Yet another had contributed dried flowers, teasels and pine cones from home, and a magnificent decoration had been contrived to be tied to the newel post at the foot of the stairs with gold ribbon.

Within the common room there was an exchange of hand-drawn Christmas cards, some of them extremely elaborate, and some gift-exchanging between close friends.

Finally, on the last afternoon, there was the Christmas party.

The girls crowded into the Studio, the only space in the house that could hold everyone, where they were regaled by the staff with fruit punch, dainty sandwiches and mincemeat pies.

The servants came in and the principal, Mrs Brightwell, gave each of them a small gift ‘on behalf of everyone at the school’.

‘It’s paid for out of our fees,’ Bron whispered to Alice. ‘Someone said they used to take a collection but by this time of the year a lot of girls had no money left, so they do it this way.’

The high voices of the girls echoed off the glass roof, and the heat and noise grew.

Julia Stevens appeared at Alice’s elbow and whispered, with much giggling, that one of the senior girls had put something in the punch.

‘I think it was brandy,’ she imparted breathlessly, ‘so now everyone’s going to get squiffy! Isn’t it fun?’

‘I couldn’t taste anything,’ Bron said. ‘Couldn’t have been very much. I don’t suppose it’ll make any difference among so many.’

‘But I saw Mr Ffolliot with something that looked like a hunting flask,’ Alice said, ‘so perhaps he’ll pass that round the staff.’

‘Shocking!’ said Bron with a grin. ‘What an example to set to impressionable young women! I say, have you asked yet about living out next term?’

‘I did ask my aunt, and she said she didn’t mind, but I don’t think she was really listening. The main thing is I have to ask my brother, because he’s really responsible for me, with my mother away in Germany.’

‘Is she really never coming back?’

‘Not to live. I suppose she might visit sometimes.’

‘Don’t you mind?’

‘She was never a very motherly sort of mother,’ Alice said.

‘So why haven’t you asked your brother?’

‘There wasn’t a suitable time,’ Alice said. ‘I don’t suppose he’ll mind, really, as long as it’s respectable. There’s bound to be a time over Christmas when I can ask him.’

‘I’m worried we may lose the room if we don’t fix it soon. We can’t wait until term starts.’

‘I will ask him,’ Alice said. ‘I’ll send you a telegram as soon as I know.’

‘Well, do it as soon as you get there. All these weekends you’ve been going home—’ She broke off, staring over Alice’s shoulder. Alice felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and turned to see Ivor Wentworth looming over her.

‘Some very important confabulation seems to be going on here. Miss Strachan, Miss Tallant – what are you plotting?’

‘Nothing, sir,’ Bron said quickly.

‘I hope it wasn’t you who put the brandy in the fruit punch?’

‘How do you know about that?’

He laughed. ‘Someone does it every year. I’m afraid it was a rather half-hearted effort – not nearly enough to go round.’

Alice tried to think of something intelligent to say. ‘I wonder why there isn’t any brandy in the punch to begin with,’ she said. ‘I’m sure every one of us has wine and sherry at home. We aren’t children.’

‘No, indeed,’ he said, with a hint of amusement. ‘Not by a long chalk. I fancy the embargo has more to do with economy than morality. May I speak to you for a moment, Miss Tallant – if Miss Strachan will excuse us?’

Bron made a complicated face at Alice as she followed his beautifully suited back.

In a quiet corner, he stopped and waited for her.

Her heart was beating rather faster than usual, just from being singled out by the Ivor Wentworth – and also because he was young and handsome and male and most of the teachers were not.

‘What were you talking about in a lowered voice?’ he asked her.

‘It looked like a conspiracy to overthrow the monarchy, at least.’

‘Oh, I would never do that,’ she said. ‘It would upset the Queen, and my grandmother knows her quite well.’

He laughed. ‘You are an original! Don’t you find yourself rather out of your place here?’

‘Why?’ she said, a little hurt.

‘I didn’t mean you are not a promising artist,’ he said.

‘I’ve seen some of your work, and heard the other teachers talking about you.

I only meant that you always appear to be just a little outside every group, the observer looking on.

You have an unnerving way of smiling at the wrong things, Miss Tallant, as if you’ve come from another place where things are done differently. It’s intriguing.’

Alice didn’t know how to respond to that. She said, ‘Bron – Miss Strachan – and I were talking about living in lodgings next term, that’s all.’

‘An excellent idea,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘Such a blunt question. Because to get away from home influences opens you to other influences, which allow you to grow. And growth is essential for an artist.’

Alice frowned, trying to work out what he meant. He watched her, with that same gleam of amusement, as if he could follow her thoughts and they entertained him.

‘A true artist is always an outsider,’ he went on.

‘The detached observer, looking into the lighted room through a window, himself unobserved, outside in the dark street; separate from but witnessing life in all its glory, tragedy and absurdity. You have that quality, Miss Tallant, in embryo. It should be nurtured, allowed to grow to its full potential.’

His talk fascinated her, and not only because she didn’t entirely understand it.

‘You think I have potential?’ she asked hesitantly. There was something of subtle mockery about him. She didn’t want to take him at face value and find she had misunderstood or misjudged. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself – especially not with him.

But as if he had understood her doubt, he said more kindly, ‘I know that you do. Your work shows great promise.’

She felt her face glow with pleasure, and knew that he had observed her blush. He gave a little nod, as if a question had been answered.

‘When school resumes next term I should like to give you some extra tuition. I invite a few special girls to tea at my studio each week, for discussion and instruction. You will come on the first Tuesday, at four o’clock.’

‘I have a class every day at four,’ she said awkwardly.

‘That is not a problem. It is understood by the rest of the staff that my chosen girls will be released for my tea parties. There will be no difficulty.’ He gave her a bend of the head that was almost a bow, and walked briskly away.

Bron was soon by her side and asking what had been said. ‘Oh, you lucky thing!’ she said, when Alice told her. ‘Extra tuition – from Ivor Wentworth! I’d give my hair for that! He must think you’re very talented to bother with you. You could be the next Angelica Kauffman or Laura Alma-Tadema!’

Alice laughed. ‘I don’t think so! He said he takes lots of girls, and they can’t all become famous or we’d know.’

‘Well, it’s an opportunity, anyway. And you might get to see him at work. If you do, be sure to notice everything and report back to me. You never know if you might pick up something that helps – some trick or other.’

‘Great art isn’t a trick,’ Alice objected.

‘Of course it is. They all have their little secrets – that’s why they have us copy the Old Masters. Genius is a knack.’

‘I thought it was a gift from God,’ Alice said solemnly.

‘Oh, goodness! Don’t say that to him or he’ll think you a simpleton.’

‘You are far too world-weary for a young girl,’ Alice said.

‘Great artists are always world-weary. Hadn’t you heard?’ said Bron.

Mr Cowling did not understand Nina’s wish to keep the news secret. His inclination would have run more to banners across the street and employing the town crier.

‘Just for a little while,’ she begged. ‘Just until after Christmas. I need time to get used to the idea.’

‘Get used to it?’ he said, but good-humouredly. ‘It’s the best news anyone could ever have.’

‘Yes, but it will change my life in so many ways. I need to think about it.’

‘You think too much about everything,’ he said, still kindly.

‘Please, Joseph.’

The fact that she used his given name, and that the conversation was taking place in bed, tilted the balance in her favour. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘You know I can’t deny you anything. But I was looking forward to telling everyone at the Castle this Christmas.’

Yes, she had been right that he would want to accept the invitation. In fact, as soon as she relayed it to him, he assumed they would be going.

‘But just think,’ she beguiled him now. ‘We shall be sharing the Christmas after that with a child of our own.’

‘A child of our own,’ he repeated, his tone rapturous in the darkness. ‘Oh, Nina!’ And he gathered her in to hold her close. ‘You’ve made me so very happy,’ he whispered.

She lay quiet in his embrace and thought, Yes, the child is yours .

The other, slight possibility she had dismissed from her mind.

It had raised itself briefly and painfully, but she would not contemplate it – not now, not ever.

She had made her peace. This was her life now, and she would go to the Castle as Mrs Cowling, Kitty’s schooldays friend. It would be lovely to see Kitty again.