Page 34 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)

‘No, not that. I can’t do anything about that. But I’m not comfortable in London in this condition. I want my own house and my own bed, and no strangers to see me. But I shall be sorry not to see more of you. Will you come down to Ashmore for a visit?’

‘Of course I will. I’ll be in London for a while yet, and I’ll have to see what Mr Cowling has planned—’

‘Come on your own, if he can’t come. Stay a long time,’ Kitty urged.

Nina would have liked nothing more than to spend a long time at Ashmore with Kitty. But if Giles was there . . . Was there any worse agony than to be in love with your dearest friend’s husband? And there seemed no end in sight.

She needed new ideas, new concerns, new activities to keep her mind away from the forbidden thoughts.

She said, ‘Clemmie and I are going to a Fabian meeting tonight in Russell Square – Mrs Billington-Drummond’s house.

George Bernard Shaw is reading a paper called “Womanliness and Emancipation”.

Don’t you think that sounds interesting?

Lepida is coming too. Apparently her father – you remember me talking about Mawes Morris?

– knows Mr Shaw quite well. He’s drawn him in his cartoons several times.

He’d like to go to the meeting too, but he’s engaged elsewhere so he’s told Lepida to take notes.

I’ve heard Mr Shaw talks very fast so she’ll have her work cut out! ’

To Kitty it sounded like an abrupt change of subject.

But the connection was very clear to Nina, as she talked on about the Fabians, and the new society, the Women’s Social and Political Union, which had replaced the defunct Women’s Franchise League.

She and Clemmie had been introduced to it by Clemmie’s friend Mrs Albertine Crane, who was also taking them to the Russell Square meeting.

Fabianism, socialism, the franchise, women’s rights, factory conditions – there was so much to think about.

Nina was young, intelligent, full of energy and, in her present way of life, directionless. Marriage and child-rearing, the traditional occupations for women, had left her stranded on a dry shore. In these new ideas there was the hope of something to fill what seemed otherwise an empty life.

When Miss Taylor left her that night, Maud remained in front of the dressing-table glass, staring at her reflection.

The day had been busy, receiving calls of form all morning, luncheon with the Lathams, then taking Rachel to a debutantes’ tea, followed by a dinner and a ball.

This was the first moment she had had to herself to think.

The face she saw in the glass had never been pretty.

You might call it distinguished: it was thin, the nose a beak, the eyes deep-set with hooded lids.

Physical looks had never concerned her. A Forrest girl carried her fortune in her name, not her appearance.

Her duty had been to marry well and she had done so.

But where had it left her? Not only widowed and supplanted by her daughter-in-law, but impoverished too.

Her jewels had been sold by her profligate husband and replaced with paste.

She’d had to hire a tiara for her daughter’s come-out.

The humiliation burned her. Rachel’s Season had returned her to the centre of a social circle that she had always regarded as her rightful place.

But when the Season was finished, and Rachel was married, what then?

Was she to dwindle into a grandmother? Was there nothing ahead of her but old age, frailty and death?

She felt still in the vigour of her life. She was not ready for that.

Her thoughts reverted to Usingen’s proposal.

She had feared at first she was being made fun of – society, after all, considered a woman of her age as past marrying.

But why should he not have fallen in love with her?

She was as fit to be admired as any woman in the land; and he was too rich to be courting her for some fortune he imagined her to have.

She felt a surge of pride, which she was quick to push away.

Emotions clouded the brain, and made for poor decisions. And she had a decision to make.

She could go back to the Castle and be the dowager, watch the new countess change everything to suit herself.

There would not be a grand coming-out for Alice next year – it would be wasted on her.

Rachel, once she was married, could introduce her sister into her own circle.

Maud, left behind, would have to build her life around her grandchildren, and the very thought made her impatient.

She had never cared for small babies, and by the time they were old enough to be interesting, her life would have passed her by.

Or she could marry – not at once, of course, but as soon as Rachel’s Season was over – and become the Princess of Usingen.

She would have all the houses and jewels she could want.

She would be on intimate terms with royalty – foreign royalty, to be sure, but many of them were descended from Queen Victoria.

And Paul himself? Well, he was no beauty, but he was kind, and not at all stupid – she had enjoyed many conversations with him.

And, after all, how much time did you ever have to spend alone with your husband?

She would even – it was an unworthy thought but she allowed it for a moment – outrank her youngest sister again.

It had been galling to the eldest Forrest girl that the youngest, Victoria, had married a prince while she had only married an earl.

But Maud had checked in the Almanach de Gotha when she thought Usingen was after Rachel, and Usingen had eight more quarterings than Wittenstein-Glücksberg.

Yes, she had a decision to make. But – and unusually for someone who was always so decisive – she was glad she need not make it quite yet. She would tell Usingen that she would consider his offer, and keep him at her heel until the Season was over. By then she ought to know her own mind.

When they got home from the meeting, Clemmie went straight up to her room, but seeing the light still on in the business-room, Nina went to say goodnight to her husband.

Cowling looked up and smiled as she appeared in the doorway. ‘Interesting time?’

‘Yes, very,’ she said. ‘Mr Shaw read a paper – you know, the playwright, George Bernard Shaw?’

‘Oh, yes, the Irishman. I’ve met him,’ Cowling said.

‘Never knew a man who could talk so much. They say women are wild for him, but I can’t see why.

Tall, skinny feller with a long face like a corpse.

Terrible beard. Messy clothes. Met him at a dinner party once and he was wearing tweeds .

But the hostess acted like she was blessed to have him. Who was your hostess this evening?’

‘Mrs Billington-Drummond. Her husband is an MP.’

‘Oh, aye – Liberal Party. I think I may have met him. Got some bee in his bonnet about putting all the clocks forward an hour in the summer to make the evenings longer. Feller doesn’t realise you get the same length of day. What you gain in the evening you lose in the morning.’

Nina smiled and nodded, glad he had got on to personalities and away from the subject of the meeting.

She had not directly discussed the question of votes for women with him, but she suspected he would not be in favour.

‘Mrs Billington-Drummond seems a nice enough woman, and very well dressed,’ she said.

Cowling asked the question she didn’t want to answer. ‘So what was this paper about, that this Shaw feller gave?’

Nina cast around for some safe way to phrase it.

‘Oh, it was about the nature of womanliness,’ she said vaguely.

‘How women have a duty to their husbands, their children and society at large. And there was a long discussion afterwards.’ She ostentatiously stifled a yawn.

‘I think I shall go up. It was all quite tiring.’

‘Aye, aye, off you go,’ he said indulgently, and she turned away, glad not to have to relay the import of Shaw’s lecture – that unless woman repudiated all those duties, she would never be emancipated.

A man’s path to freedom, he had said, was strewn with the wreckage of the duties and ideals he had trampled on, and so must a woman’s be.

Nina was not sure she agreed with that, but it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with her husband.

‘No, wait!’ As she reached the door, he called her, and her heart jumped guiltily. She turned back. He didn’t seem displeased. He had picked up a piece of paper from the desk and waved it at her gently. ‘I’ve some news for you,’ he said. ‘We’ve been invited to dinner with the Cassels next week.’

‘Both of us? I thought he gave gentlemen’s dinners.’

‘This one will be for ladies as well. His sister will be hostess for him. I’m particularly pleased to be taking you, because the King is invited, so you’ll be presented to him, which I’ve wanted for quite a while.

The Keppels will be there too, so you’ll meet a monstrous beautiful woman.

Clever, too, full of spirit, gets on with everyone.

She has influence in all sorts of places.

It’s how I see you, my dear, in future years.

I should like you to be a great hostess, like Mrs Keppel. ’

Nina felt a thrill of excitement. What could she do with such influence?

She thought of the meeting she had just been to, and the arguments about the emancipation of women.

Could she be the person who brought it about – Nina Sanderton who’d shared Kitty’s come-out because she had no money and no position? She gave a shiver at the thought.

He saw it, and said, ‘Don’t be scared. You’re well able to go into top society.

And I’ve never known you at a loss for words.

You must see tomorrow about a new gown – can’t be presented to His Majesty in something you’ve worn before.

You might pop over to Lady Manningtree and ask her advice – she’ll set you right. ’

‘Yes, I’ll do that,’ Nina said, glad to think it would not be her taste alone that guided her on such an important occasion.

‘And the best thing is,’ Cowling went on, full of smiles now, ‘that we’ll be bound to give a dinner in return. We’ll have the King here, in our house – what d’you think of that?’

Nina, whatever her husband said, was lost for words.