Page 80 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘Next year they can come to us, here,’ he said, almost as if he had kept pace with her thoughts.

‘I’ve got some plans in mind for improving the house, building on a new wing.

After Christmas we must get that architect-feller back and see what he thinks.

I’ve made a sketch – not that I’m any artist, but I’ll show it to you tomorrow. ’

The new footman, Frederick, was tall, with very dark hair and blue eyes, and had the maids in a flutter.

‘He’s so handsome!’ Doris moaned.

‘Like a prince in a story,’ Daisy agreed. ‘I can’t believe he’s real.’

‘He’s real enough,’ said Mabel. ‘I wouldn’t mind a kiss and a cuddle with him.’

Rose, passing by, growled, ‘You’d do it with a one-eyed dog, so that’s not saying much.’

Frederick, so far, had regarded the maids with lofty detachment, like a sultan looking over an unpromising new batch of slave girls. It was a relief to Afton that he did not seem inclined to dive into their giggling, bosomy sea of promise.

‘He’s very self-contained,’ Afton said. ‘That’s unusual in a servant.’

Mrs Webster had been discomposed by the way he looked directly into her eyes when speaking to her, something hardly anyone ever did. ‘He quite put me out of countenance,’ she said to Afton.

‘But Mr Moss likes him,’ Afton noted.

Despite Frederick being the same height, which meant Moss could not loom impressively over him, he had taken to him.

Frederick had never worked in a big house before, having been the sole male servant in the household of a rich, single, elderly man, but though he did not always know how things were done, he learned quickly.

‘You never have to tell him anything twice,’ Moss had said. ‘And he’s quick and handy, and asks questions when he doesn’t know. I like that.’

He liked, too, the brisk way Frederick moved, unlike William, who had never been the same since his brush with the law.

To see his languid movements and vapid, drooping carriage annoyed Moss, but telling him off didn’t seem to help, only made William more miserable.

‘Frederick bestrides the downstairs world like a colobus, as Shakespeare says,’ Mr Moss had remarked to Afton.

‘Just to see the vigour he puts into every job is a tonic.’

‘He doesn’t look at all put out when he’s corrected,’ Mrs Webster went on now. ‘And if you praise him he doesn’t . . .’ She couldn’t think of the right words.

‘Wag his tail?’ Afton smiled. ‘No embarrassment, no shame, no anxiety, no desire for approval – is this a human being we’re talking about? Can it be a visiting demi-god walking among us?’

‘He’s no demi-god, the way he packs his food away,’ Rose said, passing. ‘I’ve never seen anyone get outside his dinner so quick. Not that he shovels it in, like that Wilfrid. He eats nice. But his hands move so quick it’s all done and dusted and a clean plate left. I don’t know how he does it.’

‘Perhaps he came from a large family,’ Afton said, ‘where if you don’t eat quickly you don’t eat.’ His childhood in the orphanage had worked in the same way. Make sure of your portion, before someone else snaffled it.

‘All the same,’ Mrs Webster said thoughtfully, ‘there’s something strange about him. I can’t put my finger on it.’

‘I think he’ll bear watching. He has an air of having secrets,’ Afton said.

‘Everyone’s got secrets,’ Rose said impatiently.

‘There I can’t agree with you,’ Afton said. ‘Most people’s lives are too small and cramped for secrets. They’d have nowhere to put them. Present company excepted, of course,’ he added, with a bow.

‘ I don’t have any secrets,’ Rose objected.

‘I know very well that you do,’ Afton said. She glanced at him with quick suspicion, and he went on blandly, ‘You are not a small person, Rose.’

‘Stuff and nonsense!’ she said, with a toss of the head, and left.

Christmas Day was on a Monday, and Kitty had wanted to hold a large party on the Saturday before, but the Shacklocks had got in first with a ball, to which the whole neighbourhood was invited. ‘We can’t compete with that,’ Giles had said, amused at her disappointment.

‘I wouldn’t dream of trying,’ Kitty said. ‘It’s going to be very grand. And we don’t have a proper ballroom, so ours would only have been dancing in the great hall.’

‘Shall I buy you a ballroom?’ Giles offered.

She hesitated for a telling moment before saying, ‘Don’t be absurd. But your title is older than Lord Shacklock’s. He ought to have checked that you didn’t want the date before inviting everyone.’

‘Dear Kitty, just enjoy a large entertainment that you haven’t had to do the work for.’

‘I like doing the work,’ she said briskly. ‘It keeps me busy.’

Giles knew the good of being kept busy, and said no more.

Nina and Mr Cowling were invited to arrive on the twenty-third so as to be able to attend the ball. ‘It’s a full-dress occasion,’ Nina warned.

‘Don’t say that as if it’s a drawback,’ said Mr Cowling. ‘I’m perfectly capable of putting on breeches and stockings, and Moxton knows what’s what, all right. But you, my love – is there time to get a new gown made?’

‘There’s no need. I have my sea-green taffeta,’ she said.

‘That’s never been seen down there.’ She could see he was restless to buy her something new, and she added, ‘I can wear my emeralds.’ Over the years he had given her necklace, earrings, bracelet and hair clips in emeralds and diamonds, so it was an impressive set.

He was about to say something, then obviously changed his mind. ‘So you can,’ he said peacefully, and went away.

She discovered what he’d been thinking when he presented her, on the eve of travel, with a new pair of green morocco shoes ‘for dancing in’ – he had lasts of her feet in both his factories, and could have new shoes made for her in very short order.

‘You’re so thoughtful,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

‘That reminds me,’ he said. ‘You’re to tell me as soon as your shoes start to feel too tight. Pregnant ladies’ feet swell, you know, so I’ll have to have larger shoes made for you for the while.’

‘How do you know that?’ she asked, amazed.

‘How wouldn’t I know it? I’ve been making shoes since I was a lad,’ he said. ‘I know all about it. I remember the first time Mrs Chamberlain came to complain that her shoes pinched, and blamed the workmanship. She was carrying her first, and a very smart, fashionable woman she was.’

‘I don’t suppose she liked being told she had bigger feet,’ Nina said, amused.

‘Well, she didn’t, but I had her last and could prove it. However, why are we talking about feet, when I’ve another present for you?’

It was a tiara. Nina was surprised into silence. ‘Don’t you like it?’ he asked anxiously.

‘It’s beautiful!’ she protested. It was – very light and delicate, with diamond flowers set against emerald leaves. ‘But it’s too much!’

‘Everyone will be wearing tiaras, if it’s a dress ball,’ he said. ‘Don’t be afraid I can’t afford it. I know you were brought up frugal, my Nina, but there’s no need to hold back now. All my businesses are doing well, and what do I make it for, except to spend it?’

She smiled at him rather unevenly. ‘To have a fortune to hand on to your son?’ she suggested.

He stepped close and took her in his arms. When he was able to speak, he said, ‘He’ll have that all right. I’ve enough for him and for you, so don’t you worry. And the mother of my child is going to have a tiara to wear to a dress ball, and that’s that.’

Aunt Caroline was going to stay with friends in the country for Christmas, and Richard went to London to escort Grandmère down to the Castle on the twenty-second, so that she could be settled in and rested before the ball.

‘Of course I want to go to it! The Shacklocks do not entertain nearly enough for their position. Do you think I would miss this opportunity of seeing them en grande tenue ? And I do not know how many more chances I shall have to wear my rubies. They were made by Fabergé, you know – the father, not the son. Nobody understands rubies like the Russians.’

‘It’s hardly fair on the young females, who will be hoping to shine at the ball, to have you gather every man’s attention to yourself,’ Richard said.

‘Your compliments become more extravagant the less you mean them,’ she said severely, but he could see she was pleased.

He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘I mean every word. Who could look at some unformed, simpering girl when la vraie beauté is before them?’

‘You are absurd,’ she said. After a moment’s silence she added, ‘You have not heard anything?’

‘Not a word. You?’

Grandmère sighed. ‘Nothing.’

‘Who would have thought we were so easy to forget?’ Richard said lightly. ‘You and he had decades of shared memories.’

‘When a man of a certain age falls in love with a young girl, he forgets everything else,’ she said. ‘I hope when he finally takes the fortress, he finds it worth the sacrifice. But you, mon pauvre . . .’ She eyed him sympathetically. ‘Is your poor heart broken?’

He exploded in indignant laughter. ‘Granny! I thought you didn’t believe in hearts. Except as organs to pump blood. What is it you always say? “Music lasts. Kisses do not.”’

‘In my arrogance I thought I had both music and kisses. Now I have neither. And what is left of my heart is too tough to break, but it splits. ?a déchire, enfin .’

Richard was moved. ‘If he ever comes back to England, the devil, I will boot his bottom all the way down Piccadilly, I promise you. On both our behalves.’

She smiled faintly. ‘I believe you would. And in the mean time, there is dancing. Though the world ends, we shall dance. Have they invited that girl again, for you, the Miss – what is this her name is?’

‘Miss Rawlins?’ he said innocently.

‘Rowsham,’ she corrected him sternly.

‘And you pretended you couldn’t remember! I don’t know if she will be there. And don’t care, either.’

‘“Don’t care was made to care” – did not your nanny tell you? There will be girls at this ball, and if you don’t ask them to dance, I shall make you dance with me.’