Page 55 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)
‘But that’s how it goes. You take the profits from one enterprise and put it into the next, and so on. Just like I did, putting my profits from boots into art-silk stockings. Always looking for the next thing. Can’t stand still in commerce, my lad. Ever onward and upward.’
‘Sounds exhausting!’
‘But you’re happy with this bull of yours?’
‘Oh, he’s perfectly splendid. You’ll see in a moment: we’re just coming up to Hundon’s. So far he’s had rather a motley collection of wives to service, but I’ve six new heifers coming next week, pedigreed Shorthorns, so he’ll feel like a sultan with a harem of lovelies.’
‘You’ve bought six more cows? What did your brother say?’
‘Giles doesn’t know yet. They were expensive, but they’ll be the core of our new herd,’ Richard said, unabashed. ‘Got to build on firm foundations. Besides, I couldn’t resist – you’ll understand when you see them. Those big brown eyes . . .’
‘Aye, I’m a fool for brown eyes, too!’ Cowling was chuckling. ‘Anyway, you have to invest before you can take a profit.’
‘I hope you can convince Giles of that when he gets back. Oh, there’s Woodrow, waiting for us. He’s an excellent man, Cowling, full of ideas. You’ll like him.’
Rose paid another visit to Moss, and found him in much better spirits. He was quite agitated, in fact, but in a good way. ‘Miss Eddowes of Weldon House has been to see me, Rose – you know Miss Eddowes, of course?’
‘Of course,’ said Rose, but did not elaborate on how she knew her. The episode that had brought them together, concerning the late earl, was too painful ever to be completely healed.
‘A true lady,’ Moss enthused. ‘Of a very respectable family. She lives quietly, but I hear she’s very well-to-do, everything done as it should be.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that, Mr Moss. I’ve only been inside her house once.’
‘And a kind and charitable person, I believe,’ Moss went on.
‘Oh, she’s that, all right.’
‘Involved in many good works.’
You don’t want to enquire about them too deeply, Rose thought.
You might not approve . ‘So, did she have anything in particular to say to you, Mr Moss?’ she enquired.
Miss Eddowes had promised to look out for a position for him – though Rose had thought it unlikely anything would turn up that wouldn’t be a big step down for someone who had been butler to an earl in a big house.
Moss’s cheeks quivered. ‘She had indeed, Rose. I can hardly find words to tell you. You know how worried I’ve been—’
‘She’s found you a place?’ Rose said, to hurry him along.
‘She’s offered me a place.’
‘Good gracious!’ Rose said blankly. She hadn’t expected that.
‘Of course, it’s a very small household.
Just a cook-housekeeper, and one girl who lives out.
But Miss Eddowes said she feels very much the lack of a male presence in the house.
And she says she would like to entertain more.
Sometimes she needs to persuade people to donate to some cause, and she wants to give dinner parties or evening parties for the purpose.
So it wouldn’t be a negligible position. ’
‘I can see that,’ Rose said kindly.
‘I should be butler and footman combined. Ordering the wine. Answering the door. Receiving guests.’ He went on, more hesitantly, ‘Laying the table. I suppose I would have to clear as well as serve.’ His voice faltered.
‘Cleaning the silver? The shoes? Filling the lamps? I hope not . . .’ He came to a halt, and looked at Rose with all the excitement drained away.
‘I’d have to do everything, wouldn’t I, with no footmen or boys under me? ’
Rose, never self-pitying, had no patience with it in anyone else. ‘What’s the alternative, Mr Moss? You’ve been knocked down, now someone’s giving you a hand up. You can’t go back to a job that will strain your heart, and you’re lucky that Miss Eddowes has asked you.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘No suppose about it. You’ll be a butler still, in a respectable house. And Miss Eddowes will never see you want. Think yourself lucky. Some people end up in the workhouse.’
‘His lordship would never have let it come to that!’
‘There was no promises made. You don’t know what would have happened. Now you’ve got a settled future to look forward to. I hope you accepted.’
‘Of course I did. I—’ He swallowed a lump of reality and gathered himself. ‘I know I am fortunate.’
‘You are. When are you going there?’
‘I’m to go the day after tomorrow, as soon as my room’s been made ready and my things sent down from the Castle.’
‘Your things – yes. They’ve been packed up already,’ Rose said. ‘Hook’s moved into your room, and cleared your stuff out.’ She said it to ginger him up, but was sorry when she saw it was a shock.
‘Hook? But – but I thought he was only temporary. Surely he isn’t trying to step into my shoes?’
‘He’s trying to. Whether he’ll succeed . . .’
‘He’s not suitable, not at all. He’s not a butler. And he’s not a good person. Oh dear, oh dear, what will become of the Castle if he’s in charge?’
‘Well, it’s not your worry any more, so put it out of your mind and concentrate on Weldon House. I’ll make sure your things are sent down right away.’
‘My books,’ he said. ‘Make sure my books are sent. And my stamp collection. If Hook’s in my room, I don’t want him pawing over it.
He’d put fingermarks all over everything – he wouldn’t know you’re not supposed to touch the stamps, except with tweezers.
He might pick them up. He might—’ He couldn’t even put into words the horrors that Hook could inflict on a precious collection that had taken him his whole life to assemble. Suppose he spilled something over them?
‘I’ll see they’re put in,’ Rose said.
‘I’ll miss you all at the Castle,’ he said miserably.
‘We’ll see you when we come down to the village. It’s not as if you’re going to Timbuktu. You’ll be the big man at Weldon House – everyone will know you. And you’ll be more important to Miss Eddowes than you ever could be to his lordship. She’ll depend on you for everything.’
She was glad to see Moss straighten his shoulders. ‘You’re right,’ he said solemnly. ‘It’s a great responsibility. But one I am equal to. De forti egressa est dulcedo , as the poet says.’
‘What poet’s that, Mr Moss?’
‘You wouldn’t know him,’ Moss said, loftiness restored.
The dowager, Linda and Giles travelled back to the Castle together, having closed up the house, leaving Mrs Clegg and Job as caretakers.
All the papers had been bundled together and sent off to the family solicitor in Frome Magna, who, with the help of a land agent, would settle the estate.
Eventually they would report to Giles, who had no great hopes that there would be anything at all left.
Probably the house would have to be sold, but who on earth would buy it?
The bailiffs had called on the day after the funeral and, indifferent in the face of Linda’s fury, had warned that she could take nothing from the house but her own and the children’s clothes and their toys.
Mrs Clegg had packed the trunks under the dowager’s eye, and they had been sent off to the railway station.
Linda and her mother were to stay a day or two at the Castle before going to London and thence to Scotland, where the children had already been taken by the cousins. Giles tried not to feel relief that his sister would be elsewhere for the summer, but family loyalty only went so far.
He found himself unexpectedly glad to be home.
It was the contrast, of course, with Holme Manor, but it did not look nearly so much like a prison as he was driven up the hill from the station.
He caught a glimpse of the valley road as they crossed it, looking good after the repair gang’s attentions.
The milk scheme was really Richard’s baby, but he was interested in it, wanted to hear if anything new had happened.
It was startling to see Hook at the door in butler’s uniform to greet him.
He really ought to do something about that.
Hook was only supposed to be standing in, but he seemed to be giving himself the air of permanence, and Giles did not want him to be rewarded by default.
He must enquire immediately about Moss’s state of health, and if he was not coming back, a permanent replacement must be found.
And what, in that case, would he do with Moss?
The man had been butler since his boyhood – he couldn’t just be turned out like a stray cat.
Kitty was there to greet him in the hall, and he stooped to kiss her cheek and ask if she was well.
Behind her stood Uncle Sebastian and, to his surprise, Joseph Cowling.
He had forgotten the Cowlings were coming to visit.
He thought of Nina and felt a pang. ‘How do you do, Cowling?’ he said, shaking the hard, dry hand. ‘Are you here en garcon ?’
‘How d’ye do, my lord? No, the wife is out riding with Lady Alice. Should have been back here to greet you, but you know what it is when young ladies get a-horseback – time flies out of the window. And Nina doesn’t get much riding at home.’