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Page 84 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘If that is so,’ Grandmère said, in measured tone, ‘you must think: do you want to marry him?’

The tears began to brim over. ‘He was so unkind. After I risked everything for him. Defied Mama and endured months of her scolding, and – and oppressing me. And then he talks to me as if . . . He called me a wild animal!’ Richard began to laugh softly, which did not help her mood.

‘He’s not the only man in the world, and he’d better learn that.

I shall have many other offers to choose from. ’

‘Any creature less oppressed than you would be hard to find,’ Richard said. ‘My silly little sister! A wild animal, eh? You must have depths kept hidden from me all these years.’

The tears went back to their source. ‘You’re not to make fun of me,’ she said crossly.

‘ Tiens , you must not,’ said Grandmère. ‘It is not gentlemanly to tease.’ But she was laughing too.

The carriages were got out to take everyone to church, but Alice said she would walk. ‘I’ve been sitting too long, I need to stretch my legs.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Giles said. ‘We’ll work up an appetite for the turkey.’

‘Can we take the dogs?’ Alice asked. ‘They do so love to go out. We can tie them up in the porch.’

Warm coats, mufflers, gloves and hats were the order of the day.

Giles had a deerstalker, and turned the flaps down to keep his ears warm.

Alice unearthed a knitted hat from her childhood in preference to something more grown-up and fashionable, and they set off under the dreary grey sky with the brisk, cold breeze pushing them from behind and the dogs racing about, puffing out their breath in small clouds.

Everything was very still, no birds anywhere, only the moving bare branches of the trees breaking the monotony.

‘The sky is so low. Do you think it will snow?’ Alice asked.

Giles looked about and sniffed the air. ‘I don’t think so. Not the right sort of cloud. I hope not, anyway.’

‘I hope so a bit, but not entirely. What age do you have to be before you stop looking forward to snow?’

‘You must know that better than me. You’re closer to it. All I think of is the nuisance, all the animals to cart feed to, and the flood when the snow finally melts.’

‘That’s a very dull way of thinking,’ Alice said. ‘I suppose you’re very grown-up now.’

‘You’re pretty grown-up yourself,’ he laughed, ‘if you can talk to your elders and betters so boldly. I remember when I came home after Father died, there were two very shy, mouselike girls in the old schoolroom who wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’

‘Why would anyone say boo to a goose? Such an odd expression! The snow is lovely for painting, though, you must admit that.’

‘There was a picture of a snowy landscape in the nursery when I was a child,’ he remembered. ‘I never liked it. Too chilly!’

‘Without snow there’d be no Christmas cards,’ she said solemnly. ‘No lamplit inn with a stage-coach pulled up outside it, the wheel-tracks in the snow, the ladies in crinolines with big muffs . . . I must say, a muff would be a good idea on a day like this. Gloves don’t really seem to help much.’

He pulled her against him. ‘Put your hand in my pocket and tuck the other under your arm. There, is that better?’

‘Much. Thanks.’ A pause. ‘I’m glad to have the chance to talk to you,’ she began.

‘Oh dear. I sense a request coming,’ he said.

‘I didn’t mean that. I meant really talk to you. We don’t often have the opportunity.’

‘We don’t, little sister, especially now you’re in London so much. How’s art school?’

‘Wonderful.’

‘Still keen, then?’

‘More than ever. I think . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I believe I could make my living at it one day.’

‘What will your husband think about that?’

‘Oh, you know I’m never going to get married. I’m not the sort.’

‘You only think that because you haven’t met the right man. When you do, you’ll be the sort all right.’

‘We’ll see. But, actually, there is something I wanted to ask you.’

‘I knew it! Ask away, then, while I’m in a good mood.’

She told him about the lodgings, and he asked a lot of probing questions. They had reached the bridge before he had finished. ‘What does your aunt say? Have you asked her?’

Alice stopped on the bridge and looked down into the black water.

There were patches of ice at the sides of the river where the vegetation halted the flow.

‘She doesn’t mind,’ she said. ‘I think she’d be glad to have one less person to bother about – assuming Rachel is going to be there after Christmas. ’

Giles frowned. ‘I thought we’d got Rachel all squared away. Thank goodness Aunt Caroline is willing to chaperone her, if she’s going to be back on the market.’

‘On the market?’ Alice said, wrinkling her nose. ‘What a horrid expression.’

‘Well, you know what I mean. All right, this lodging thing, if it really is respectable, I suppose you can do it. You’re a sensible girl – not like your sister.

’ A splash distracted his attention. ‘Oh, my God, has that stupid dog really jumped into the water? It must be freezing! Hi, Tiger! Here! Heel! Get out of that, you old fool!’

The dog was already scrambling up onto the bank and shaking himself vigorously. ‘He’s found out how cold it is,’ Alice said. ‘He’s coming.’

‘Yes, and he’ll be ready for his second shake just as he reaches us,’ Giles grumbled.

The service was everything a Christmas service should be.

All Alice’s favourite carols were sung, the rector’s sermon was cheerful and not too long, the church was full of greenery, with splashes of red from the holly berries.

There was the smell of pine and candle-wax, the smell of incense, and the choir singing the descants and bass lines to leaven the hearty bellowing of the congregation.

Afterwards there was a blockage at the church door, of everyone who wanted to talk to everyone else, or exchange a word with the rector without going out into the cold.

Kitty and Grandmère and Rachel were absorbed into a group of ladies in smart hats, Richard was buttonholed by Mort Gregory from Shelloes Farm to talk about skimmed milk for pigs, and Giles was kidnapped by the Bexleys from the Grange who wanted to talk about the Shacklock ball and their own intended lawn meet on Boxing Day.

Alice might have enjoyed talking about the latter, but she was conscious of the dogs being tied up in the porch, mouthed to Giles that she was going home, and slipped out.

Tiger and Isaac were enraptured to see her, and Tiger didn’t seem to be suffering from his icy dip – he’d got out so quickly the water probably hadn’t penetrated his thick coat.

She untied them and walked out into the graveyard and, taking the path to the side gate, came upon the choir streaming out on their way home.

And suddenly Axe was there. She stopped dead, he saw her and stepped out of the flow, then came the few steps towards her, almost reluctantly, as though pulled by a rope.

The dogs jumped and tugged at their leashes, wanting to get to him.

Every living thing wanted to be near Axe Brandom.

He was like a big fire in the dark of night – instinctively you edged closer.

And then they were only a foot apart, staring at each other. She thought he looked tired, and rather pale around the edges. A skinned sort of look. ‘You’ve had a haircut,’ she said, idiotically.

‘No, not recently,’ he said.

She had forgotten his voice, the richness of it. It made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

‘How are you, Lady Alice?’

‘Well,’ she said. ‘Are you well?’

He didn’t answer that. ‘You’ve been in London all this time?’

She was about to answer, and then saw that he knew she hadn’t. She’d been back many times. She’d hunted. But she’d never gone to see him. She had decided that it was best for both of them if she cut him from her life. And mostly it had been easy. He suspected that, and was sad.

‘How’s Dolly?’ she asked, to avoid anything harder. ‘And Della?’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘They miss you.’ I miss you .

‘Have you got any animals at the moment?’ He usually had some creature he’d rescued – young and abandoned, or hurt – that he healed, raised, fed and set free.

‘Two baby owls. Nearly ready to be let go.’

‘I suppose you trap mice to feed them,’ she said.

‘Everyone’s got to eat,’ he said. And then, ‘I kill ’em quick. I don’t give ’em alive now.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. She had objected to the practice. It warmed her perilously that he’d cared enough to stop it. She understood that, telling her, he was making her a gift. ‘I – I haven’t been to see you,’ she began with difficulty.

‘I know,’ he said.

He seemed to have edged a little nearer.

She was looking up into his face now; she could feel the heat of his big body, the draw of his presence.

She looked at the curve of his lips, the soft curtain of his eyelashes, and knew that the whole year away had been wasted, had done nothing to lessen her desire to put herself in his arms and press herself against him, and be held and consumed.

‘It wasn’t because—’

‘I know,’ he said again. He made a little movement of his hand, as though he would have touched her, and stopped himself. ‘You thought it was for the best.’

‘Was it?’ she asked helplessly.

He was a long time answering. ‘I expect so,’ he said at last. His hand moved again.

This time, very delicately, he picked a loose strand of hair that was sticking to her cheek and pushed it back into the mass over her ear.

She felt herself trembling. Or was that him?

‘I miss our talks,’ he said. ‘Dolly’s company, but she’s got no conversation. ’

She drew a breath of pain. ‘I—’ she began.

But he said, ‘No. ’Tis all right. There’s a whole world out there.

You’ve got to explore it. You’re – you’re too big for this little space.

’ He meant, too big for my little place in it .

‘You’re like one of those explorers in Jules Verne, off to see the world.

It’s right. It’s right.’ She could feel tears starting in her eyes.

‘No, no, don’t you fret. We’re all right.

All will be well.’ He stepped back a pace, and smiled, and the smile was healing, and at the same time made her feel desperately hungry for him – for more.

‘I’ll give Dolly your love,’ he said in valediction. ‘Merry Christmas, Lady Alice.’

She felt her lips say merry Christmas, but no sound came out. He turned and walked away, carrying the warmth of the sun with him, and she stood stupidly in the greyness that was left and watched him go. Because there was nothing else to do. Nothing to say. Nothing it was possible to say.

The dogs stood up, watched him go, then looked up at her.

‘Yes, all right,’ she said. ‘Let’s go home.’