Page 71 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)

Linda scowled. ‘But it would put a dampener on them to have someone in widow’s weeds hanging around the house when they are there to enjoy themselves.

’ And she went on quickly, in the tones of sweet reason, ‘I think it would present a very odd appearance, full blacks at a place like Biarritz, where everyone is in light clothing and bright colours. Of all things, I abhor making a spectacle of myself. We would be stared at, Mother, and I know how you hate that. No, I think on the whole it would be better if I leave off heavy mourning when I get there. I can wear lavenders and greys, and be decent.’

‘Have you got any lavenders and greys?’ Rachel asked, savouring the petite marmite , so unlike the lumpy cock-a-leekie soup that was the standard fare at Kincraig.

When she was growing up, there had not been much difference between Ashmore and Kincraig food.

Ashmore dishes were much more delicate now.

‘I’ve some old things. But you’re going to Paris first for clothes,’ Linda pointed out. ‘I can get new things there.’

Maud made a sound of annoyance. ‘And how, precisely, will you afford new clothes? Or your ticket? You surely do not think I shall pay for you?’

Her eyes locked across the table with those of her daughter, and the air bristled with all that was unspoken.

Cordwell left you penniless , said Maud’s accusing gaze.

And Papa left you penniless , said Linda’s.

Rachel looked timidly at Giles, and then at Kitty, knowing full well that all the lovely things she had sported at her come-out, and all the fun she had had, had been paid for by Giles, or rather by the estate, and therefore out of Kitty’s fortune.

And Giles was thinking, Am I to be burdened with this ridiculous extravagance for ever?

Why should I pay for their pleasures? Why can’t they stay quietly at home?

Ah, but that was not the delightful alternative it might seem, was it?

When it came down to it, he would be glad to pack his mother and sister off to France, and peace by his own hearth came at a price.

In addition, he had an inkling that Linda’s desire to go to France without her weeds had another motive.

She couldn’t like her status as his pensioner any more than he did.

She probably wanted to marry again. She was only thirty, and not bad-looking, if rather scrawny.

In Biarritz there was a good chance of meeting a rich, elderly widower – scores of them went there for the very purpose.

Aunt Vicky was quick-witted when it came to matrimonial issues, and might well invite suitable candidates to be met and charmed – if Linda could remember how to charm.

To get her off his hands for good! It was worth the cost of a few more outfits – in a year in which he had already paid for more outfits than he could count.

‘I think Linda should go,’ he said to his mother. ‘She’s looking quite pulled, you know, after the tragedy. The sea air would do her good. And if you are buying more clothes in Paris, one or two frocks for Linda won’t make much difference. I believe they’re much cheaper there than in London.’

Linda was as surprised as she was pleased, and for a moment couldn’t think of anything to say.

Maud gave him a scalding look, realising she had been out-manoeuvred, and was to be stuck with Linda.

She had never thought Giles manipulative – bluntness had been his leading characteristic.

Had he learned dark arts since becoming earl?

He met her eyes steadily, and she could read nothing from his expression.

Rachel, thinking Linda would not be much of an addition to the pleasure of the party, said, ‘If Linda’s coming, couldn’t Alice come too? She never goes anywhere.’

‘Oh, I don’t want to go, thank you,’ Alice said quickly. ‘I like staying at home with Kitty and Giles. And Kitty couldn’t do without me – could you?’

‘I should miss you very much,’ Kitty said.

‘You’re quite the walker, aren’t you, Mr Afton?’ said Mrs Webster at supper. ‘Whenever you have your time off, you go out, tramping away like those ramblers you see of a Sunday.’

‘I like to get a bit of fresh air,’ Afton said. ‘Our lives, Mrs Webster, are sadly confined.’

‘I don’t like the out-of-doors,’ said Ellen. ‘All mud and insects.’

‘I like being in town better,’ Doris agreed. ‘Shops and buses and a bit of jollity, that’d suit me.’

‘That’s the trouble with a big house like this,’ said Daisy. ‘You’re stuck miles from anywhere. My sister’s in a place in High Wycombe. They have all sorts going on there, and dances every Saturday through the winter. All we got here is blummin’ trees and birds and such.’

‘But Nature, in reasonable measure, can be very restorative,’ Crooks pronounced. ‘The contemplation of God’s creation . . .’ He caught Hook’s derisive eye and stopped. ‘Where in particular do you go on your rambles, Mr Afton, if I may ask?’

‘I’m still exploring the neighbourhood – being the new boy here. And while it may not be teeming with the sort of fun to amuse young ladies,’ he smiled at Daisy, who blushed, ‘it has some very interesting nooks and crannies. For instance, I’ve been poking about New Ashmore lately.’

‘Nothing interesting there,’ Rose said. ‘Except the railway station.’

‘But there’s a very mysterious-looking big house called High Beeches, shut in with a high wall and lots of gloomy shrubbery. It could be the scene for a Gothic novel with a madwoman shut up in the attic. Or the haunt of vampires.’

The girls gave a frisson of delighted horror. ‘Ooh, Mr Afton!’

‘Vampires!’ Hook snorted. ‘You do talk rubbish.’

‘I use my imagination,’ Afton said blandly. ‘For instance, there’s a little shop there, dark and dusty, run by a strange man like a troll or a goblin, with a great bushy beard and piercing eyes. I can just imagine him eating unsuspecting small children and grinding their bones to make his bread.’

‘Ooh, Mr Afton! Stop it!’

‘Though it will probably turn out he’s just a harmless, rather shy soul,’ Afton went on, looking at Hook. ‘Burdened with an unfortunate face and a peculiar name – Pogrebin.’

‘Oh, I’ve heard of Pogrebin’s,’ Mrs Webster said. ‘Isn’t it just a pawn shop?’

‘It’s a pawn shop, all right, judging by the three balls outside. I don’t know what else it might be. What would you say goes on there, Mr Hook? Have you had dealings with the child-eating goblin?’

‘I never go up there. Nothing to walk up a hill for,’ Hook said tersely.

‘Except the railway station,’ Rose said. ‘I’ve known you take a train sometimes on your day off.’

‘Nobody’s business if I do,’ Hook snapped. ‘If everybody kept their long noses out of other people’s business, the world’d go round a lot quicker.’

‘Which would not necessarily be a good thing,’ said Afton.

‘Isn’t it the world going round that causes gravity?’ Crooks said vaguely. ‘Or is it the other way round?’

Mrs Webster looked amused. ‘We need Mr Moss here to tell us. From his A to Z of Universal Knowledge .’

‘Think of a merry-go-round. If the world turned too fast, we’d all get flung off,’ said Afton. ‘And go spinning out into the darkness, along with our goods and chattels. Or, indeed, other people’s goods and chattels.’

Hook glared at him glitteringly. ‘What the hell are you babbling about?’

Mrs Webster intervened, ‘Language, please, Mr Hook. We don’t use that word in the servants’ hall.’

Hook opened his mouth to tell her to go to hell, then shut it again abruptly.

He sawed savagely at the remaining slice of pork on his plate.

Rose looked at him for a moment, then at Afton, and reached thoughtfully for the dish of green beans.

The rest of the table had broken off into other conversations, but she was interested in the atmosphere between the two senior males of the below-stairs house.