Page 37 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)
He had been sure she would be taken by the giraffes and, sure enough, they astonished her – she had never seen even a picture of one before.
Staring up at them revealed her face to Moss, and he was happy to stand there for as long as she wanted, telling her that the pattern on their skin was intended for concealment, and even, when she showed signs of having looked enough, redirecting her gaze by explaining that the horns were not an outgrowth of the skull, but became attached to it in the animal’s maturity.
The camel house was a success, and he regaled her with their ability to store water in their humps, and the large feet that stopped them sinking into the sand.
She seemed not to care for the orangutan or the kudu, but was entranced by the bright colours of the parrots and seemed in no hurry to leave them.
Moss had not prepared anything on parrots, but he was feeling the heat rather – it was a particularly fine, sunny day – and he was glad to stand in silence for a while.
Indeed, it was so hot that, after a look at the plan, he directed them next to the Aquarium where they could go inside and cool down.
It proved very soothing, watching the brightly coloured fish cruise aimlessly about, and his spirits began to revive.
The tigers and lions were next on his mental list, but though it was early for tea, he found himself consumed with the desire for a cup.
He really was very thirsty. Well, he was in charge, and could order them to tea whenever he pleased.
Better, in any case, to get in before the inevitable rush.
On a sunny Sunday in May, the zoo was well-frequented.
‘I think we shall have tea next,’ he said, as he guided Ada to the Aquarium exit.
‘Yes, Mr Moss,’ she said.
As they stepped outside again into the sunshine, he felt his tiredness come down like a weight on his shoulders, and at the same time his forehead broke out in a sweat.
He removed his hat and dabbed at it with his handkerchief, not wishing her to see him with moisture running down his face.
It was strange, because in the normal way he hardly ever sweated.
He thought it common to perspire. He mopped, and the sun beat down and made him squint, and he drew an involuntary great sigh that seemed to do nothing towards inflating his lungs.
He felt dizzy and tried to take a deep breath, and it was strangely difficult.
‘Are you all right, Mr Moss?’ he heard Ada say.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘Never better.’ At least, that was what he meant to say, but not having managed to breathe in properly, he couldn’t actually speak at all and only, to his dismay, made a grunting sound.
He replaced his hat on his head, looked down at her with a puzzled expression, and fell like a tree.
‘ You will have to deal with it,’ the dowager said furiously to Giles. She had taken the trouble to come all the way from Portman Square to Berkeley Square to say it, and said it with the maximum vehemence.
Ada’s return to Pelham House in the care of a policeman and a state of collapse had caused such a sensation below stairs that Miss Taylor had felt obliged to disturb her mistress.
Maud always rested on her bed at that hour of the day, and insisted that Rachel did the same, a short period of respite between the engagements of the day and of the evening.
The debutante round was relentless and exhausting.
Giles, who had been about to go up to dress for an unfashionably early supper with old friends, was not pleased to be interrupted.
‘After all,’ Maud continued, ‘he is your butler.’
‘Is he, indeed? You managed to forget that when you purloined him from the Castle –’
‘ Purloined? ’
‘– without consulting anyone’s convenience.’
‘Rachel is your sister, and you are the head of the family. If you wanted her brought out in less than the finest style you should have told me so.’
‘I don’t recollect ever being asked,’ Giles snapped, even as he realised this was the silliest argument he had ever had.
Maud seemed to realise it at the same moment.
She waved it away with one cold white hand.
‘Nevertheless, I am far too busy chaperoning Rachel to deal with this – crisis . We have three engagements this evening alone, and I am already late for dressing. You must go, Giles – and please do not breathe at me in that testy fashion. What is your engagement this evening compared with mine? An informal supper with your university friends can easily be postponed.’
Giles did not want to postpone, but Moss was an old family retainer, and duty was duty. ‘Where is he?’
‘The St Pancras infirmary, so I’m told,’ said Maud, indifferently. ‘Wherever that might be.’
‘I know it,’ Giles said. It had been the infirmary for the local workhouse, a tall, grim building on a dark corner, which he had passed on various occasions when a student, because it was not far from University College, and many of his fellow students had lodged in the streets thereabouts.
He supposed Moss had been taken there because it was the closest hospital to the zoo.
Actually, it was not too far from the house he had been invited to that evening – John and Mabel Portwine lived in Cartwright Gardens – so he might be able to go on afterwards.
They wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t dressed.
‘Very well,’ Maud said, as if his knowing the infirmary clinched the argument.
‘Then you had better go. Find out what is the matter with him and when he will return to duty. I hope it is nothing long-drawn-out,’ she added.
‘I shall need him for the dinner party. If he can manage that, he can go down to Ashmore afterwards to recover if necessary.’
‘Your compassion astounds me,’ Giles said. ‘You have a greatness of heart, Mother.’
‘Don’t be impertinent. And ring the bell – I must leave immediately.’
For the Earl of Stainton, the physician on duty – young, a little shabby, and weary-looking – made himself available.
‘It seems to have been a heart attack,’ he said.
‘Yes, of course you can see him, though he has been given a sedative, so he may be drowsy or even asleep. The most important thing after an episode of this nature is that there should be no strain on the heart – no exertion and no agitation – so if he is able to speak to you, please do not say anything to upset him. My lord,’ he added, diplomatically.
‘Will he recover?’ Giles asked, feeling suddenly discomposed. Moss was a figure from his childhood, an indestructible monument. It should not be possible to knock down an icon.
‘That’s rather in the lap of the gods,’ the physician said.
‘He is alive, and that is the first point, but there is no way to tell what permanent damage has been done. Some suffer a lifelong weakness, others recover much of their former strength. Time will tell. He seems to be a man of overall good health, so with luck and good nursing, he has a chance of recovery. He must have absolute rest, both physical and mental – that is the key. No work, no worries or anxieties, no excitement.’
The sister, rather fluttered by the presence of one who was not only an earl but a young and handsome one, conducted Giles to Moss’s bed.
The long ward, lit only by a window at one end, was stark, with two rows of iron beds, each with an enamel number plate on the bare wall above it.
The occupants seemed to be old men, all looking gaunt and sick.
Of those propped up, many seemed troubled by a racking cough; those lying down looked as though they hadn’t long to go.
It was singularly depressing, and made it all the harder to see Moss lying there, so reduced, so helpless.
He tried to struggle up when he saw Giles, and the sister hastened to press him down. ‘No, no, you mustn’t move. Now then, now then. Rest yourself.’
Giles came closer. ‘Yes, Moss, you must rest. Doctor’s orders.’
‘Oh, my lord, I’m so sorry,’ Moss said. He was unexpectedly pale, and Giles only then appreciated how ruddy his face had always been. It looked thinner, too, and the nose sharper, as though the flesh had fallen away from his cheeks.
‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ Giles said. ‘No-one can help being ill. You are not to worry. Everything is being taken care of.’
‘It was the heat,’ Moss said. He seemed a little confused, and after his first recognition of Giles, he seemed to forget who he was talking to.
‘I remember coming out of the Aquarium. Bright sunshine. No shade. So hot. Stopped to mop my brow. Don’t remember anything else.
’ He looked at Giles, puzzled. ‘Where am I?’
‘The infirmary, at St Pancras.’
Moss seemed to be thinking, groggily. Then suddenly he was alarmed. ‘Her ladyship – the dinner party—’
‘All will be taken care of.’
‘But she needs me!’
‘We all need you, Moss – we need you to get well. That’s the important thing. And that means rest and quiet. So you are not to worry about anything, do you hear me?’
Moss’s eyes filled with tears, which upset Giles even more. It was so far from the stately, unflappable Moss he knew. ‘Will I lose my position?’ he asked.
‘Of course not,’ Giles said soothingly. ‘The very idea. As if Ashmore Castle could carry on without you. You must concentrate on getting well again.’
‘Yes,’ Moss whispered, but he looked confused. He rubbed his hand over his mouth in a feeble, absent sort of way. ‘There was someone else. Someone—’