Page 74 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)

Rose took the news down to Weldon House on her afternoon off.

The weather was holding fine, and the paths were dry.

September was nicer for walking than August – generally fresher.

The sky seemed higher, pale blue veined with white, like the trails milk makes when a drop is spilled into water.

The hedges were stuffed with sparrows making a cheerful racket, and she saw a blackbird sitting on top of a bramble bush, extracting berries from among the thorns with delicate, precise tugs.

She picked one for herself, and it was sweet and tasted of childhood.

Then she cursed herself for a fool, because there was a purple stain on the forefinger of her glove.

She didn’t think much about Hook’s violent death.

He was gone, and that was that. She did wonder what would happen now, though.

Hook had been only temporary butler – though he had arrogantly assumed he would keep the job for good – but a butler there had to be.

She thought of a new man coming in, the friction that would inevitably occur until everyone settled into a new groove.

Nothing had really gone right, she thought, since Mr Moss had left.

She wished they could have him back. He’d had his faults, but so did they all, and better the devil you know, as the saying was.

She didn’t suppose he liked it very much at Miss Eddowes’s, after the splendour of the Castle, but there was no way back, not with his heart being unable to stand the strain.

He was going to be upset about his stamp collection, but on the other hand, he’d be pleased that the police thought they might get the silver back. He was a very loyal old stick, she had to give him that.

Miss Eddowes was out, having tea with Mrs Brinklow at the Red House – Rose had some knowledge of her tea-visiting habits and had chosen the time accordingly – and Mrs Grape was ‘taking the weight off her feet’ in her own room until it was time to start dinner, so Moss was able to sit and talk to Rose without disturbing his conscience.

There was a bench outside the back door, nicely shaded by one of the apple trees in the little orchard to the side of the house, and they sat there in the pleasant warm air, the sunlight dappling the ripening fruits, glowing dabs of amber and topaz.

Moss took the chief constable’s opinion about his stamp collection better than Rose had expected.

‘To be honest, I’d given up hope of ever seeing it again.

I don’t suppose it was worth much in actual money, but it was worth a lot to me.

Twenty years I’ve been collecting them.’ He sighed heavily.

‘But I shall be glad if they get the silver back. I feel guilty – I should have kept a sharper eye on what Hook was doing.’

‘Everybody feels something was their fault,’ Rose said impatiently. ‘What with Mr Afton blaming himself for Hook’s death. He was a bad lot, Mr Moss, and he came to a bad end. I shan’t shed a tear for him.’

‘We are all brothers and sisters in each other,’ Moss pronounced. ‘Which of us is without sin?’

‘I’ve never stolen anything in my life.’

‘Ah, but when we come before the Great Throne at life’s end—’

Rose had no patience with this line of speculation. It was bad enough having it on Sunday, without extra portions during the week. ‘What we’re all wondering,’ she interrupted him firmly, ‘is who is going to replace him as butler.’

Moss looked anguished. ‘Ah, Rose, I wish it could be me. I dream sometimes that his lordship has come down to ask Miss Eddowes for my return, and I walk up the hill and take my old place . . .’ His eyes were moist and he stopped to pull out a handkerchief and blow his nose.

‘But the doctor said it’s out of the question,’ he went on.

‘I suppose they’ll have to go to an agency,’ Rose said.

‘What a dreadful thought,’ Moss said, shocked.

‘Don’t see they’ll have any choice. Trouble is, you never know who you’re going to get that way. And you always wonder, if a man’s out of work and having to go to an agency, if there isn’t a reason behind it.’

‘It’s a pity her ladyship’s gone to France,’ Moss said. ‘She knows so many people, she would probably hear of someone suitable. Her young ladyship doesn’t have that sort of – of web of acquaintance, if I may phrase it so.’

‘She’s been busy having babies,’ Rose pointed out tersely. ‘Hardly been anywhere to make friends.’

‘Indeed, indeed, I meant no criticism. And we are blessed with two male heirs.’ Still ‘we’, Rose noted. ‘How is the new baby?’

‘Coming along slowly. And little Lord Ayton is flourishing like a weed. Running about all over the place now. You never saw such a likely lad.’

She told him a few stories about the heir’s activities, and then it was time to go.

Moss got gallantly to his feet to see her off, and looked so wistful as he asked her to convey his regards to everyone that she said, ‘Why don’t you come up to the Castle some time and give ’em yourself?

On your next afternoon off. Come up and have tea – everyone’d love to see you. ’

The suggestion seemed to cheer him. ‘I will, I will. I’d like to see Mrs Webster and Mr Crooks and the others. I’ll take a little stroll up there next time I’m off duty.’

Nina left her luggage to be collected, and walked the half-mile or so to Wriothesby House, partly because Trump needed the walk after the long journey, and partly because she rather fancied stealing unannounced into ‘the vicinage of her home’, like Jane Eyre.

Bobby, her husband and children were remaining a few days in London and had urged her to stay too, but as they were residing not at an hotel but with a relative she felt awkward about accepting and declared she was expected at home.

She sent a telegram to say she was coming, but seeing an earlier train when she got to the station, she took it, so there was no-one waiting for her when she reached Market Harborough.

The little town looked pleasantly familiar, and one or two people she knew gave her a smile and a nod as she passed.

Turning in at her gate, she saw the facade of the house, like a friendly face, and thought again how beautiful it was.

Trump suddenly remembered, and pulled at his leash, so she let it go, and he dashed away and in through the open front door with a single glad bark.

So by the time she stepped in, Mrs Deering had appeared from the nether regions with such a welcoming smile she really did feel she had come home.

‘Oh, madam, there you are! But we were expecting you later. We must have misunderstood.’

‘I saw the chance of an earlier train and took it, that’s all.’

‘But there was no-one to meet you! Dear me, did you take a taxi?’

‘No, I walked. It’s no distance.’

‘Well, the master’s gone down to the factory. He was going to go on to the station afterwards. He’ll be so put out to’ve missed you.’ She lowered her voice confidentially. ‘He’s been so excited about you coming home, ma’am. Quite like a boy at Christmas, if you’ll forgive me.’

‘Oh dear, I didn’t think of that,’ Nina faltered. Would he be angry, waiting on the platform for no reason?

‘Not to worry, ma’am, I’ll send the boy down with a message. I expect you’d like some tea. I’ll bring it to you in the drawing-room. Oh, there’s a letter for you, come this morning.’ She took it from the hall table and handed it over.

The drawing-room was pleasantly cool and smelt of lavender wax.

The French windows were open onto the terrace, and the smell there was real lavender – bushes of it planted along the edge of the wall.

Trump dashed out with a thousand things to investigate, and Nina sat on the stone bench in the shade of the house and read her letter. It was from Kitty:

. . . a dreadful shock, however little one liked the man.

You will think me silly, but I was rather afraid of him.

But now all the uproar is over, I am in hopes that the house will settle down and everyone will be happier.

He was not a calming influence below stairs so Hatto tells me.

I’m just grateful that my mother-in-law was not here – she left the day before it happened – because I’m sure she would have found a way to make it my fault.

Nina turned the page and read the descriptions of the new baby and his remarkable progress.

Alexander. What a strange, but noble name, she thought.

So Kitty had two sons now, and she had none.

She read on, about Louis, how he was running around and climbing on things, and how he had taken an odd fancy to Giles’s man Afton.

I suppose now that I have done my duty [Kitty went on], I shall not have to have any more children, and will see less of Giles even than I do now. He is always busy about the estate and often I do not see him all day until dinner.

Nina contemplated the message here. Kitty could not be explicit in writing as she might have been if they were together, but the paragraph sounded wistful.

Was she saying that she thought Giles would no longer come to her bed?

Nina took her heart by the scruff of its neck and would not allow it to feel any gladness about that.

Poor Kitty, who was so in love with him!

Would it be worse, she wondered, to be married to him and hardly ever see him?

No, she thought, Kitty still had the privilege of calling him her husband, and the right to demand certain things of him.

If she, Nina, had been his wife, she was sure he— No!

She would not think along those lines. She turned hastily to the letter again.