Page 58 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)

They departed meekly. Outside, Rose waited until William and Eddie had gone, then said, in a low, angry tone to Hook, ‘You got no right to go saying Mr Moss took it to London and forgot. It was his heart, not his head. He’s not gone dippy.

In any case, I spoke to Dory and she said she checked everything before they came home, to make sure nobody left anything. ’

Hook shrugged. ‘Just didn’t want to suggest we’ve got a thief in our midst.’

Rose looked at him bitterly. Once a suspicion of that sort got about, life became a misery below stairs. ‘We never had stealing when Mr Moss was in charge.’

‘Are you accusing me of something?’ Hook said sharply.

‘I’m just saying.’ She continued to glare at him. ‘Poor Mr Moss – losing it’ll break his heart.’

‘Thought it was already busted,’ Hook grinned.

‘Don’t talk so shocking, James Hook. Don’t you have any shame?’

He caught her wrist in one hard, strong hand, his mask of geniality gone. ‘You don’t talk to me like that, Rosy Posy. Not ever. You just remember I’m in charge now.’

‘Not for long,’ she said. He started twisting. ‘Let me go, you’re hurting me!’

‘Just as long as you remember, I can hurt you a lot more’n this if I want.’

He released her and she hurried away.

Afton, coming up the stairs, saw her face as she passed, saw her rubbing her wrist, saw Hook’s grin as he watched her go, put two and two together, and had to restrain himself from knocking Hook down right there and then.

He vowed to get to the bottom of it, and to see that Hook got what he deserved.

The Cowlings had only just got home. They were still standing in the hall, Cowling receiving a bulletin from Mrs Deering, Trump dashing off to inspect every inch of his old kingdom, Nina reading a note from Lady Clemmie – she had sent to say she would be away for several weeks visiting family friends in Scarborough – when Bobby Wharfedale appeared at the front door, which was still standing open for Deering to bring in the luggage.

‘Nina! I’m so glad you’re home! I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you!’ she cried.

‘We’ve only this instant arrived,’ Nina said. ‘I’ve just taken off my hat.’

‘I know. I didn’t want to waste a moment of seeing you.’ She spared a smile for Mr Cowling, who quickly resumed his hat for the purpose of lifting it to her.

‘But how did you know we were back?’ Nina asked.

Bobby grinned. ‘Couldn’t be easier. You sent a telegram to warn Mrs Deering – how do you do, Mrs Deering? You’re looking well. She told your housemaid, Polly, who is own sister to our housemaid Willa, and she told my maid Sutton, who told me. The most direct line of communication.’

Nina laughed. ‘You’re right! If the Government had relied on servants instead of the telegraph, they’d have had news of the victory at Waterloo hours earlier.’

Cowling shook his head at the nonsense. ‘They do pretty well as it is with the Rothschilds,’ he said. ‘How are you, Lady Wharfedale? What news from Welland Hall?’

‘That’s what I’ve come about. My darling papa has taken a house on the Isle of Wight for three months and we are all going – Aubrey and I and the children and my brothers and sisters – and it’s a huge house with lots of room, so he’s said we can bring friends, and I want you to come.

’ Her look embraced them both. ‘Now, please, you must come – you can’t think how perfect it will be.

The weather is always wonderful on the island, and there’s sea-bathing, and horses, and Kipper’s going to borrow a yacht from a friend.

I must, must have you, darling Nina! Only think how Trump will love it after all those weeks in dusty London! ’

‘I’ve too much business to attend to, thank you for asking,’ Mr Cowling said. ‘But you should go, Nina.’

She looked at him doubtfully. ‘Go without you?’

‘I shan’t be here much anyway, for weeks to come. I’ve to visit all my factories after being away so long. Things have piled up. I’ll be in Northampton, Leicester – I want to see how the jam factory’s doing as well.’

‘But you’ll want me to be here when you come back.’

‘I shall only drop in for a change of clothes, then be off again. I’d be no company.’

Since that night at Ashmore, she felt he had been withdrawn, quiet.

Perhaps others wouldn’t have noticed it – in company he still talked with his usual forcefulness – but she saw he smiled less, and a light seemed to have gone from his eyes.

She couldn’t bear to think he was unhappy.

She was fond of him, for his honest, straightforward character, and for his kindness to her, and she felt obscurely that she had let him down.

‘I don’t like to think of you being alone,’ she said.

He smiled, a tender smile, but with a shadow of sadness in it.

‘Bless you, I’ve been on my own for years, it doesn’t bother me.

And I shall have Decius with me. And Mrs Deering when I’m here, though that won’t be often.

You go and have fun. It’ll do you good, all that fresh sea air.

London’s made you pale. Stay as long as you like.

’ He turned to Bobby for confirmation. ‘You’ll be staying all summer, you say? ’

‘We certainly mean to – and Nina’s welcome for as long as she wants. And if you find you have a few days to spare, please do come too. We’d love to see you. Now, Nina,’ she turned to her, ‘you see, you must come. For Trump’s sake, if not your own.’

‘Very well,’ Nina said. ‘I’d love to. You’ll have to tell me what to pack. When do you leave? How do you travel?’

Bobby had plenty to say, and walked upstairs with Nina, chatting volubly.

Nina felt a stirring of excitement – she loved the sea, though she had hardly ever been to the seaside, and a summer with Bobby and her brothers and sisters would be wonderful.

But she still worried about Mr Cowling. He couldn’t have been kinder in urging her to go – but his kindness now made her feel sad.

There was no particular reason why Rose should pass Hundon’s on her way to the village – it was rather out of the way, in fact – but on a fine summer day a person bent on exercise might walk in one direction as well as another, mightn’t they?

And as she passed the entrance to the yard, it was natural for her to take a step in so as to see the house.

She was rewarded by the sight of Michael Woodrow sitting on a kitchen chair, back to the wall of the house, with a mug in his hand, evidently taking a rest from his labours.

It was what she had hoped for, but she was all the same suddenly tongue-tied, and stood holding her basket and staring, like a foolish girl.

But he smiled his warm, easy smile at the sight of her and said, ‘Well, this is a treat! Martha,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘here’s Miss Hawkins from up the Castle.’

His sister’s face appeared at the open kitchen window and disappeared again.

‘I just called, as I was passing, to see how you’re settling in,’ Rose said.

He looked at the basket. ‘On your way to the village? Chores to do?’

‘No, it’s my afternoon off. I thought I’d have a look in Poinings.’

‘Oh, yes – the haberdasher’s,’ said Woodrow. ‘I’ve been here long enough to know everybody goes into Poinings at least once a week.’

‘Well, they do seem to have a lot of things one naturally wants,’ said Rose.

Martha came out of the house carrying a kitchen chair in one hand and a mug in the other. She put the chair down next to her brother’s, thrust the mug at Rose without ever looking at her, and went back inside.

‘Tea,’ said Woodrow. ‘Won’t you sit a minute and talk to me?’

Rose sat. ‘Your sister doesn’t talk much, does she?’ she said, a little awkwardly, afraid she had offended in some way.

‘No, she never has.’

‘Oh?’ said Rose. She sipped her tea.

After a moment, he went on. ‘She’s a lot older than me – my half-sister.

She was ten when I was born. Her mother – my father’s first wife – died in an accident.

Something happened to Martha at the same time, and she went a bit .

. . strange. My dad never would tell, and Martha never talked about it, ever.

Got upset if it was brought up. So I don’t know to this day what happened.

But she’s all right, really, just not sociable.

He’s gone now, too, my dad; and my mum, so there’s just the two of us. ’

‘It’s good that she’s got you to care for her.’

‘I look after her, and she looks after me. She’s a good housekeeper – none better. She just doesn’t warm much to strangers. So don’t take it funny if she doesn’t speak to you. It doesn’t mean anything.’

Rose didn’t know what to say to all this; though she felt a thrill of warmth that he would tell her so much so soon. Well, perhaps he was just a talker. Time would tell. In the end, she said, ‘How are you liking the bull? Mr Richard raves about it.’

Woodrow’s face lit. ‘He’s a great feller. Would you like to have a look at him? He’s in the bull-box just now.’

He obviously meant it as a treat, so she said yes, set aside her mug (it was no hardship, as Martha hadn’t put any sugar in it and she liked her tea sweet) and followed him across the yard.

‘He’s usually out with the cows,’ Woodrow explained. ‘It helps keep a bull good-tempered, so I’ve always believed, if he runs with his wives – more natural-like. But he’s waiting in for a visitor, a cow from The Bottoms that’s bulling just now. Here he is – handsome fellow, isn’t he?’

The bull was looking over the high door of the box, between the splayed bars that stopped him getting his horns out.

He snorted loudly as the two humans approached, and Rose saw the wet nose poked up and snuffling eagerly.

Woodrow spoke crooningly to him and reached in a hand to scratch his poll.

‘You can’t see him properly from there,’ he said to Rose, and courteously pulled across a box for her to stand on.

She got up cautiously. ‘Go on, you can stroke him if you want. He likes that.’