Page 27 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)

Vogel, the family’s banker, approved Richard’s dairy plan, as far as it went. ‘The estate needs investment, and with agricultural prices as low as they are, it’s good to think about moving in a new direction. We can’t go on in the same ancestral way.’

‘I’m glad you agree,’ said Richard. ‘When I say the same thing to the tenants they shake their heads and give me the look that says, “Impetuous young devil. You’ll learn!”’

Vogel laughed. ‘I know that look well.’

‘It’s the silent resistance. They think I’ll just talk myself into exhaustion, and then they can go back to what they were doing before I lost my mind.’

‘That’s human nature, sir – we all cling to what we know. But, to be fair, your plan is a significant departure from the past, and it needs thinking out carefully.’

‘Yes, I know. And I know just who to turn to for the thinking.’

It was convenient that the Cowlings had taken a house just on the other side of the square to Aunt Caroline, where Richard stayed when in London.

Cowling received him with a hearty handshake, and said, ‘Now, this is right civil of you to call on me. Mrs Cowling will be sorry to have missed you. She’s not here at present.’

‘Oh, is she still in the country?’

‘No, she came up with me, but we brought her friend with us – Lady Clementine Leacock.’ He said the name with obvious pride, and Richard smiled and nodded, though he didn’t know the lady.

‘It’s nice for Nina to have a companion while I’m busy, and Lady Clemmie was eager for a trip to London.

They’re out somewhere together, I don’t know where. ’

‘It was you I wanted to talk to, sir – on a matter of business.’

‘Business, eh? Well, you’d better come into my study.’ He led the way, saying, ‘Something about the jam factory, is it? I was there last week and it’s all going splendidly. Had another idea for expansion, have you? I’m not sure what else we can do with jam that we’re not doing, but I’m all ears.’

‘No, it’s not jam, sir. Something probably even more ambitious, but I’d like to know your opinion of the scheme, and ask your advice, if that’s not too presumptuous.’

Cowling conducted him into his business-room and gestured to a chair. ‘Well, well, sit thee down, lad, and let’s hear it. I never mind being asked my opinion by those who’ll listen. But I’ll speak plainly, you know that. If it’s nonsense, I’ll say so.’

‘I’m depending on that, sir,’ Richard said. He seated himself, and described the plan – with the advantage that, as he’d already had to outline it to Vogel, he had got his words in order.

Cowling listened gravely, sitting back in his chair, staring at nothing and not moving, except to tap the pen he had taken up once or twice on the desk, as if in punctuation.

When Richard had finished, there was a silence, which he had enough self-control not to break.

If Cowling didn’t think the scheme workable, pleading wouldn’t help.

Finally, Cowling spoke. ‘This is a long-term plan you’ve taken a mind to. We’re talking years rather than months before you see a reasonable return.’

‘I know, sir. But that’s usually the way with the land. We’ve farmed that valley for three hundred and fifty years, so what’s a few more, if we get it right? We can’t go on in the same old way, that’s certain. Farming as we knew it just doesn’t pay.’

‘Aye, you’re right. The world’s a different place now.

Corn from the American prairies, meat from the wilds of Australia – stuff from the four corners, all brought in by steam-ships that don’t need the wind at their backs to get here.

We have to think different. And,’ he looked at Richard now, ‘I like to hear a young man think big, beyond what’s in front of his face.

But what d’you want me to do? If it’s my money you’re after, I have to tell you agriculture’s not one of my interests. ’

‘I know, sir, but I mean to turn milk into a business, and business is business whatever the end product.’

Cowling nodded approvingly. ‘You’re right there!’

‘But it’s just advice I want for now.’

‘Fair enough. Well, now, it seems to me that it’s going to take a while before you have your product – the milk – ready for market; so that gives you time to get the other end, the distribution, set up.’

‘That’s the part I really know nothing about,’ Richard said. ‘I hoped you might have an idea of whom I could go to.’

‘What I don’t know, I can always find out.

I think the best way would be to discover a London delivery dairy that’s willing to expand.

They’ll have the expertise with customers, which’ll cut some corners.

I’ll get my people on to it. As to the transportation, I happen to know Sam Fay of the Great Central Railway – he’s a grand chap, worked his way up from junior clerk to general manager.

He’ll know how it’s to be done. But you’ll have to arrange to get the milk from the farms to the station at your end.

That’ll need thinking about. It’s got to be done fast, so the milk is fresh, and I know what country roads are like. ’

‘Yes. I realised we’d have to invest in road repairs, along with the improvements to the farm buildings.

I was thinking that if each farm gets its churns down to the road by a certain time each day, we could have wagons going past from farm gate to farm gate, picking them up.

That would save going up to each farmhouse separately. ’

‘Aye, good notion,’ Cowling said absently, looking thoughtful.

‘Sir? You’ve had an idea?’

He shook himself. ‘Nay, it’s something for further down the line, and you’ve got enough on your plate to be going on with.

But I will say, if you get this right, it could be the saving of all your farm tenants.

The old kind of farming – a few hens, half a dozen cows, a pig and six acres of wheat – that’s going out, and it’ll soon be gone.

We’re in a new century. You want industrial thinking, my lad, and I reckon you might have hit on it. ’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘I’ll have a word with Sam Fay, and ask around about a local dairy, and I’ll let you know how I get on. You’ve got the bigger part – getting those herds up to scratch.’ Richard gave a rueful smile. He knew it. ‘What does your brother say, his lordship?’

‘I haven’t talked to him about it yet. As soon as he’s home from Egypt . . .’

‘Aye, that was a rum do,’ Cowling said reflectively. ‘Hopping off to the Pyramids with a new wife at home and plenty to be done about the estate. But,’ he corrected himself, ‘it’s not for me to comment, and no doubt he can feel confident, with you back here to catch the ball.’

There were not many times in Richard’s life that anyone had suggested he was competent to catch the ball, and it was rather gratifying. It went some way to proving the old adage, that virtue was its own reward.

Giles left the Arthurs and Giulia at the station and took a cab to Berkeley Square.

He took a four-wheel growler rather than a hansom so there would be room for the luggage, and Afton sat perched on the forward seat, pretending to be a statue as a valet should, and heroically not looking out of the window, though he must have wanted to.

When they reached Aunt Caroline’s house Giles was not surprised to see it lit up, and messenger boys going up and down the steps with deliveries and notes.

The ball was on the day after next, and excitement and activity would be growing.

He grinned at his manservant. ‘You can stare if you like, Afton. I won’t tell anyone you displayed human curiosity. ’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ Afton said imperturbably.

‘But most of the action will be happening in Portman Square. We shall have only the ripples and after-shocks here.’

‘I’m sure you will enjoy the tranquillity, my lord.’

‘Shall I? But what about you?’

‘I shall be glad of the opportunity to look over your dress clothes, my lord. I’m afraid there may still be sand in them.’

‘It’ll be knee breeches and stockings for the ball,’ Giles said sadly. ‘I hope my brother had the sense to have mine brought up from the country.’

‘We’ll manage, my lord.’

‘I dare say you will,’ Giles said. ‘Who knows what purgatory awaits me?’

‘My dear child, why didn’t you tell us what train you’d be on? I’d have sent to meet you,’ Aunt Caroline said.

‘I wouldn’t put you to the trouble,’ Giles said, kissing her soft, scented cheek. He got the worst question over first: ‘Is Mama here?’

‘No, I’ve hardly seen her this week. She’s at Pelham House with Rachel. Linda too – and Stuffy will be staying there when he comes up. My servants have enough to do with Richard, Alice and Kitty staying. And now you, of course – not that you’re not very welcome, my dear,’ she added hastily.

‘Where is Kitty?’

‘She’s upstairs with Alice. She’ll be down soon, I expect. Shall I ring for some tea, dear, or will you bathe first?’

It might have been a pointed question, but he was very thirsty. ‘Tea, please, if you don’t mind.’

Caroline surveyed him as she walked to the bell-pull.

‘You look as though you need a good tea. I expect the heat out there was very wearing. I know I found Paris extremely tiresome on my honeymoon. I could hardly eat a thing – though of course I was very much in love, and French food was not what it was cracked up to be. My dear Sir James always said it was because all the best French cooks came to England to work, which may be true. I do remember that the meat was very tough, and there was quite a horrifying amount of gristle when you looked closely.’

Giles laughed. ‘Dear Auntie! You must never go to Egypt.’

‘I certainly shall never do that,’ she promised him solemnly.