Page 65 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)

He didn’t understand. ‘What do you mean? What are you sorry for?’ He looked at her in concern. ‘Please don’t cry. My dear, what is it?’

She could only shake her head, slow tears seeping.

It was the nurse who intervened. She stepped up to wipe Kitty’s face, and after a keen look said, ‘Oh, sir – my lord! No, my lady, no – the baby didn’t die.’ Kitty looked at her in bewilderment. ‘Sir, she thinks—’

Giles finally understood. ‘No, Kitty, the baby’s all right.’ He pressed her hand to fix her attention. ‘Listen to me – the baby’s all right. He’s small, but Arbogast says he’s healthy. You can see him by and by.’

She looked at him with dawning hope. ‘A boy? We had a boy?’

‘Yes, and he’s in the nursery doing very well. We have a wet-nurse for him, since you’ve been so ill. I’ll have them bring him to you.’

But she turned her head away. ‘Not now.’ She was glad she had not failed, glad the child had survived, but she was too tired to feel more than that. ‘Sleep now,’ she murmured.

‘Yes, sleep,’ Giles said quickly. ‘That’s the best thing for you.’

She drifted away, only noticing, with the weary edge of her mind, that he let go of her hand before she had quite gone. She wished he hadn’t.

* * *

‘We thought you were going to die,’ Alice said.

Her face looked thinner, bleak from the emotions she had suffered.

‘You lost so much blood. But Dr Arbogast says you will make it up – you can make new blood inside you, apparently – only it takes time, so you’ll feel tired and weak for a while.

’ She didn’t say that Arbogast had warned that the weakened body could fall prey to a host of other ills, and that my lady wasn’t out of the woods yet, by any means.

‘Lots of nourishing food, that’s what you need, to build you back up,’ Alice went on, and gave a small, tight smile.

‘They keep making you custards and gruel and such, but I can’t help thinking roast beef would serve you better. ’

Kitty pressed the hand that held hers so tenaciously. ‘I feel a little better each day,’ she said, to comfort her. Then, ‘What’s the matter, Alice? What is it really?’

Alice broke. ‘I feel so guilty! I was out and you were all alone. If I’d been there . . .’

‘I told you to go,’ said Kitty. ‘And I’m all right. I will be all right.’

Alice hung her head. She had been at Axe’s cottage, happy, enjoying herself, playing with Dolly and a new litter of kittens. Axe had offered her one for herself. And all the while . . .

‘Please don’t cry,’ Kitty said wearily, ‘or you’ll start me off.’

‘Sorry.’ Alice blew her nose determinedly, and picked up her sketch-pad. Dr Arbogast had said the patient ought not to be agitated or upset. ‘Look, I did a new drawing of Louis for you. It’s rather rough, but he won’t stay still for long.’

‘It’s lovely. Whose lap is that?’

‘Afton’s.’ Alice giggled. ‘He’s taken such a fancy to him. Nanny can hardly contain herself – she doesn’t think men ought to go into the nursery, ever.’

‘Not even Giles?’

‘Not even Giles. But she has to put up with him , since he pays her wages.’

* * *

Giles brought the new baby down to her – or, rather, he went up and commanded it, and Jessie followed him down with the baby tightly clutched to her chest.

‘Still doing well,’ he said, taking the bundle from her and placing it in Kitty’s arms.

Kitty looked down at the tiny face, a wrinkled red apple surrounded by lace. Already she had got used to Louis and forgotten how small new babies were. Could something so small possibly be complete? She looked up. ‘He’s really all right?’

‘Taking nourishment well, I’m told, and putting on weight. All things being equal, he should survive long enough for us to give him a name.’

There was no answering smile from Kitty, and he felt guilty, thinking she was not ready to be light about any part of it.

In fact, she was simply feeling blank. The precious moments of recognition immediately after birth had not been vouchsafed to her, and she had been too ill to hold the baby for a long time afterwards, and was not feeding him. She felt no attachment to him. ‘It’s good we had another boy,’ she said.

She had done her duty. She had provided the House with a son and a spare. There was no need for any more. There was no more need for her , really. If she died now, it wouldn’t matter at all. She sighed and let her head drop back on the pillow.

Jessie was quick to come forward. ‘Let me take him, my lady. You’re tired.’

‘Yes, take him,’ Kitty murmured. Poor little boy, she thought, and tears came to her eyes.

Giles was alarmed. ‘I’ll leave you to sleep,’ he said; and left the room to send for Dr Arbogast again.

She asked to see Afton, and Giles sent for him. He came, looking his usual spry, dapper self, but with a shy hang of the head, never having been in a lady’s bedchamber before. He didn’t really know where it was proper to look.

But Kitty held out her hand to be shaken, and said, ‘They tell me you saved my life.’

‘Oh, no, my lady,’ he demurred at once. ‘I just happened to be there. Anyone would have done the same.’

‘Not everyone would have been as quick thinking as you,’ she said. ‘So thank you, all the same. And for taking care of my little boy – Lord Ayton.’

Afton smiled. ‘He’s a fine lad, if I might be allowed to say so, my lady.’

‘And grown fond of you.’

‘His lordship kindly lets me go and see him now and then.’

‘Were you never married, Afton?’

‘No, my lady. The opportunity never came along.’

‘I’m sorry. But if you’d married you might not have been here when I needed you, so perhaps there was a Providence in it. I – and my baby – owe you our lives.’

Afton was so overcome, Giles intervened out of mercy, and said, ‘That will do, Afton, thank you. I’ll ring when I want you,’ and he bowed to Kitty and hurried gratefully away. ‘He’s a good man,’ Giles said to Kitty, when he’d gone.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘What is his Christian name?’

‘Do I know it?’ Giles thought for a moment. ‘Ah, yes, I remember. It’s Stanley. Named after the explorer, I believe. Why do you ask?’

‘I was thinking perhaps we ought to name the baby after him.’

Giles laughed. ‘I don’t think we can call our son Stanley – though it is the name of a venerable English house. But it has become rather “of the people”, these days. Perhaps he could have it as a second name.’

‘I would like that,’ Kitty said.

‘It would annoy my mother so much,’ Giles said, ‘which is reason enough for me. But what for his first name?’

‘I don’t mind. You choose.’

‘What do you think about Alexander? I rather like it.’

‘Yes, it’s nice,’ she said indifferently.

‘And we had better honour our respective papas. People expect it. So, then – Alexander Stanley John William?’

‘Mmm,’ said Kitty, her eyelids drooping.

Giles smiled, and escaped to his work.

Nanny, with a new baby to brood over, was happy to acknowledge that Louis was becoming more active and could benefit from a run out of doors every day, and that her shape and the state of her feet made her ineligible to be the one to take him.

That Mr Afton, she observed, was a very gentlemanlike man, p’raps from his close contact with the gentry.

He also had a winning way with him and a twinkle in his eye – though she didn’t say that bit aloud.

At all events, his little lordship had taken a shine to Mr Afton, and it could do him no harm to be taken out when the weather was fine to run around and use up some of his energy.

‘What a versatile man you are, Afton,’ Giles laughed at him one morning. ‘Valet, professional barber, and now unofficial tutor to the scions of the nobility!’

And detective, Afton added inwardly, though he hadn’t got any further forward with his inquiry. But since his master was going out and wouldn’t require him for several hours, he was going into Canons Ashmore to visit Thavey’s.

It was a shop that sold all manner of second-hand things, from pocket watches to candlesticks, and was a byword in the village because it also served as pawn shop.

Afton stood outside for a long time, looking at the display in the window of sad treasures – a tray of wedding rings, an array of service medals, a pair of red leather baby’s shoes, a Toby jug, a framed photograph, a fringed silk shawl, a pair of Chelsea cats, a brass telescope – while trying to think of a way to frame his enquiry.

In the end, he decided just to play it by ear.

Inside it was dim, low-ceilinged, and smelt of furniture polish.

There were glass cabinets of treasures all around and diverse shadowy things hanging from the beams – Afton had to duck between a pair of dangling ice-skates and a pith helmet complete with chin scales.

Behind the counter, a tall man in gold-rimmed glasses said, ‘Can I help you, sir?’ His expression was stern and his tone was not encouraging.

Afton wondered if he’d had to deal with so much weeping and pleading over the years that he’d developed a carapace.

Afton tried an engaging smile. ‘Just came in for a look around. I’m new to the area, but I’ve heard it said, “You can get anything at Thavey’s,” so I thought I’d see for myself.’

‘I’m Thavey,’ said the man. ‘Were you interested in anything in particular?’

‘Oh, my interests are wide,’ Afton said. ‘You take pledges, I understand. Do you keep the pledges separate from outright sales?’

‘Depends on who’s pledging. Some I know will be back come Saturday. Redeem it Saturday and pledge it again Monday. Some I can tell would like to come back but never will. What’s your line, if I might ask, sir?’

‘Barber,’ Afton said. ‘I might be in the market for a good razor.’

‘I haven’t any at present, though they do come in from time to time. Are you setting up here, in the village?’

Afton preferred not to answer that. He pretended to look in one of the glass cases. ‘I’ve various hobbies, though. Quite interested in old coins. And stamps – do you do anything in the way of stamps?’