Page 25 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)

All the same, among the Tullamore children there were two grown sons, Angus who was twenty-four and Fritz who was eighteen, both nice, well-behaved boys.

She considered long and hard, tapping the end of her pen against her lips.

Angus and Fritz would do to dance with some of the less important girls, who might otherwise find themselves without partners.

But if she invited them, Cecily and Gordon might also want her to invite the eldest girl, Beata.

Perhaps, she thought, she had better write a completely frank letter to Cecily, who as a mother would understand the issue at hand and send her two eldest sons on their own. Maud could always dine her and Gordon later in the Season as a way of saying thank you.

And another happy thought came to her. There were among the Tullamore brood two very young children, Mannox and Mary, who, if she remembered correctly, were about ten and eight respectively.

Would it not be very convenient if Cecily were to invite Linda’s children to stay while everyone was in London?

They could play with the youngest Tullamores, and the Tullamore nanny could take charge of them all.

Otherwise, since it was obvious that Linda did not mean to go back to Dorset, but was clinging on to Portman Square like a barnacle, Maud might end up with Arabella and Arthur under her roof, which would not be convenient.

Yes, a letter to Cecily, framed in just the right language, with the hint of a dinner and perhaps a longer stay at Ashmore Castle at some point in the summer . . .

She drew paper towards her, and as she dipped her pen, her eye fell on a card that had been left earlier by Prince Paul Usingen, just arrived in London.

He was considerably older than Rachel, but very eligible, and he had shown interest in her during their stay in Germany.

Probably he had come to London looking for a bride.

Yes, she must make sure he got an invitation – with ‘Do come!’ written across it in her own hand.

People could never resist the personal touch.

She’d do it straight after the tricky letter to Cecily.

Crooks found William in the plate-room lethargically sorting out the silver for dinner.

He had always been a well-fed young man with a high colour, but since his ordeal in the police cell he had changed.

He was gaunt and pale now, and drooped moodily.

He avoided the other servants as much as possible, and could often be found hunched in an obscure corner of the yards, smoking and staring at nothing.

Some of the maids tried to be kind to him, but there was an undertone of no-smoke-without-fire suspicion about him, and Sam, who had shared a room with him until his arrest, had asked to be moved.

No-one else wanted to share, and there were no single rooms. But when William listlessly seconded the request, Mr Moss had allowed him to move his bed into a tiny room among the rafters that had been used for storage. It was probably not helping his mood.

Crooks felt sorry for him. There must always be an element of doubt while the killer of Speen went unidentified, but he knew the adage of the law, that a man was innocent until proved guilty, and felt that as Englishmen they should put that into practice.

Of course, he thought, being a gentleman’s gentleman, he naturally had more refined sensibilities than some of the lower servants.

Still, William was one of their own and ought to have their loyalty.

So he paused in the doorway and, after watching for a moment, said in a kindly way, ‘Separate salt cellar for each place, don’t forget.’

‘I know,’ William said, not looking at him.

Crooks stepped in. ‘Come, now,’ he said, ‘you’ve got to try and buck up.’

‘Easy for you to say, Mr Crooks,’ William muttered gloomily.

‘Life brings challenges to everyone,’ said Crooks. ‘You were tested, but you came through. You were found innocent. Now you must put it behind you, and use the experience to make you a better person. The refiner’s fire, d’you see?’

William didn’t see. There was nothing fine about it, as far as he could see. ‘But my ma’s done with me, because of Tabby, and everybody here thinks I did it. I can’t go home and I can’t stay. Even if I left, I’d never get another job with that hanging over me. Word gets about, you know.’

‘Nobody here thinks you did it,’ Crooks said, not quite truthfully.

‘James is telling everybody I did.’

‘James is a bad person. He says bad things about everybody. You mustn’t pay him any attention.’

‘But if everyone believes him . . .’

‘I’m sure they don’t. It’s just gossip. And if I hear anyone saying anything of that sort, I shall speak out, firmly.’

‘But what am I supposed to do?’ William said miserably.

‘You must rise above it. Show everybody by your own actions that you are a good man. Bear witness in your everyday life to the Christian virtues, and people will soon forget all this nastiness. You must rise, William. Rise!’

William gave him the downtrodden but faintly hopeful look of a dog that believes the scolding might be over. ‘What’ve I to do, exactly?’

Crooks examined him. ‘Smarten yourself up, to begin with. If a man is clean and shaven and his clothes are pressed and worn properly, he feels better about himself right away. Don’t slouch.

Walk briskly. Hold up your head and look people in the eye.

Do your work with energy and take pride in doing it well.

Do all that, and people will take you at your own estimation. ’

It sounded daunting to William, but Mr Crooks was waiting, so he made an effort to stand up straighter. ‘You’re very kind, Mr Crooks,’ he muttered.

Crooks laid a hand on his arm. ‘I’ll stand by you, William. And if you have any difficulties, come to me. Or to Mr Moss,’ he added, but it was a dutiful rather than a heartfelt addendum.

Giles was not alone with Giulia again. He made sure it didn’t happen.

Usually she was in the company of the Arthurs, or at least of Mary, but he even grew wary of joining their party at all, making excuses to stay in his cabin alone.

He no longer went up on deck after dinner, for fear Mary and Talbot should wander off together and leave him alone with Giulia.

He felt hideously guilty. It was a betrayal of all his affection for the Lombardi family, his gratitude towards Flavio and Lucia, his duty of care towards their daughter.

Very well, it had been only one kiss, but she had called him her dearest – what emotions had he stirred up?

He was a married man. And even if a married man took a mistress – which was not something he countenanced – it would never be the innocent unmarried daughter of a decent family. Such a thing was unthinkable.

After the toils and hardships of the Valley, the luxury of the ship wearied him but did not tire him out.

There was not enough to do. The only physical exercise available was walking round the decks.

His rested body began to feel different wants, and he could not sufficiently distract himself from its clamour.

He began to have erotic dreams, in which, aching with desire, he pursued some woman along endless corridors, while she kept teasingly just out of reach, laughing and beckoning him on.

In the dreams he never saw the woman clearly.

He told himself one could not be responsible for one’s dreams, but it did not assuage his guilt.

He had always preferred to shave himself, and even after the demonstration in Cairo of Afton’s superior skills, he had insisted on wielding his own razor.

But now, in his state of irritable languor, he began to allow Afton to shave him.

Afton was an excellent servant, silent unless encouraged to speak, but ready to chat if required.

Spending more time lying back looking up into Afton’s face, he could not but become aware that he was a handsome fellow, with a lean, firm-featured face and very blue eyes.

He must, Giles thought, have been attractive to females.

One morning, to distract himself, he spoke the thought aloud.

‘You must be quite a devil with the ladies. Have you ever been married?’

‘No, my lord,’ Afton answered easily. ‘Been close to it a few times.’ He glanced to see if conversation was wanted, and went on, ‘When I was younger, I didn’t have the time or money.

Then I was in service – where, of course, you can’t marry.

Then, with my own shop, I was too occupied with business to look for a wife.

It’s a time-consuming thing if you’re going to do it right. ’

‘And you would always want to do it right,’ Giles said.

‘No point otherwise, my lord. Whatever I’m doing, I want to do it as well as it can be done.

And females, well, you can live without them, if you put your mind to it.

But they’re so soft and pretty and beguiling, my lord, I can quite see that once you’d started you’d never be able to stop.

So I don’t start. But perhaps one day, when I’ve got a bit saved and can settle down . . .’

‘You’re a wise man, Afton.’

‘Turn a little to the left, my lord, if you please.’

‘But don’t you . . . ?’ Giles hesitated.

‘Yes, my lord?’ Afton encouraged him.

‘There are – um . . . A man feels . . . certain – er – wants. Urges, perhaps. Don’t you find?’

‘Oh, yes. The body has a mind of its own, my lord, if I may put it that way.’ He pushed Giles’s face gently further to the left, to shave below his right ear, and went on, ‘The dreams, my lord – they can be insistent.’

How did he know? Giles thought. The man was a wizard. Or was it just coincidence?

‘But a man has no control over his dreams, my lord,’ Afton went on. ‘In my opinion, one should just, as it were, lie back and enjoy them.’

‘I find them troubling.’