Page 75 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)
Alice is my great comfort, always ready to walk with me or sit with me.
I shall be able to be a better companion to her , because Dr Arbogast says I may now resume riding, as long as I stay at the walk for the first weeks.
I can’t express how much I’m looking forward to going out on my darling Apollo, whom I’ve hardly ridden since Giles first gave him to me.
And riding at the walk will be no penance, when I can be taken by his four legs where my own two won’t carry me!
Alice, of course, would spend every waking hour riding if she could, so being with me will not be nearly so irksome as it must sometimes have been these long months of being housebound.
Trump came galloping in from the garden and dashed past her, barking, and she heard the rumble of male voices and realised her husband had returned.
She jumped up and hurried to catch him in the hall, thinking that if he’d had a wild-goose chase, his temper would not be improved by having to come and find her.
But his face broke into a beaming smile as soon as he saw her. Behind him, Decius smiled too, and nodded a greeting, but she had no time to speak to him. She had to have her hands captured by Cowling’s, and both her cheeks heartily kissed.
‘Well, well, there you are! Safe and sound after all!’
‘I’m sorry about catching an earlier train—’ she began contritely.
‘No, no, don’t be! I’m with you the sooner, that’s all that matters.
Well, my dear, and how are you? You look positively blooming!
Did you have a pleasant time? I’ve missed you so much.
I’ve been like a poor old dog – haven’t I, Decius?
– sniffing about the house looking for his lost mistress!
Nothing’s the same when you’re not here.
Nothing’s right. Are you glad to be back? ’
Luckily for Nina, Mrs Deering said at that moment, ‘I was just about to take madam’s tea in, sir, and it’s only a matter of putting two more cups on the tray.’
‘I can’t stay,’ Decius said. ‘I only came to pay my respects to Mrs Cowling, but I must absolutely dash.’
‘I’ll speak to you later,’ Cowling said to him, linking his arm through Nina’s. ‘You’ll dine with us? No? Then I’ll see you early tomorrow. Yes, bring the tea in, Mrs Deering. I’m ready for a cup.’
In the drawing-room he led Nina to one of the settles and sat, drawing her down beside him and, with her hand firmly held in his, surveyed her face as though taking an inventory of her features.
Nina felt awkward under such close scrutiny.
She tried to deflect it by saying, ‘I’m afraid I may be a bit brown.
We were out of doors so much, and it’s hard always to remember to keep one’s face shaded. ’
‘No, no, you’ve nothing more than a bit of healthy colour. It suits you – you’re looking more beautiful than ever. Oh, Nina, I’ve missed you so much!’
Mrs Deering came in with the tray, and he released her hand and got up to move a table into position for her.
Nina watched, with a little cold feeling round her heart, because she knew she hadn’t missed him, not a bit.
She’d had a wonderful time with Bobby and her family: so much company, so many to talk to, and laugh with, such warmth, and family feeling; such conversation and games, such soon-familiar jokes and carefree larking.
There had been sea-bathing, which she had never tried before, and now absolutely adored, and sailing, carriage rides to the famous sights, and dinners, and musical evenings, and dancing.
And Bobby’s brother Adam had flirted with her so skilfully, making her feel beautiful and special and just a little excited, without ever crossing the line.
She had forgotten for most of the time that she was a married woman. She had forgotten Mr Cowling.
Now, as he bent to move the table slightly, a shaft of sunlight from the French windows struck his face, and illuminated it cruelly.
She saw how old he was, with his indoor pallor and the bags under his eyes, the frown-lines across his forehead and the slackness of the skin under his jaw.
Involuntarily her memory contrasted it with Adam’s firm young good looks.
Mr Cowling was well-dressed and neatly groomed; she noticed his hands gripping the table edge and they were clean and well-kept, the nails neatly cut.
But they were not young hands. He was a nice, kind, older man, and she felt absolutely no connection to him, as though he were someone she happened to be passing in the street.
But she was his wife! She was married to him, this random stranger, and must remain so for ever; she must live with him and endure his caresses, while her heart and her instinct told her to run away, run away far and fast and never come back.
He sat again beside her, beaming, and said, ‘There! Shall you pour, my love? I’ve missed having you to pour my tea. You were away so long, sometimes I thought you were never coming back.’
She threw a sidelong glance at him – had he somehow heard her thought? ‘Only eight weeks,’ she said.
‘Nine, I think,’ he corrected. ‘But a very long time, whichever it was.’
She concentrated on pouring the tea. There was thin bread-and-butter, and scones, and Dundee cake.
Trump came up close, nose lifted to identify what was too high up for him to see.
She handed Cowling his cup and plate, and poured her own, aware that he was staring at her minutely the whole time.
And when at last she could no longer put off looking at him, she found his expression solemn – almost apologetic.
‘I’ve had plenty of time, while you’ve been away, to think about things,’ he said.
‘Have you?’
‘Yes, and I came to the conclusion that I’ve been a fool.’
Her heart contracted. Did he know – had he somehow guessed?
‘A fool and a crosspatch,’ he went on.
‘Oh, no,’ she demurred.
‘How did you put up with me?’ he said. ‘Telling you off, scolding you like a puppy, smothering your happy spirits when I should have been rejoicing in them.’
She looked at him blankly, not knowing where this was going, her mind churning with various guilty thoughts.
‘You’re young and eager and free-spirited, my Nina, and I don’t want to change that.
I don’t want to damp down that fire. If I did, it’d serve me right if I lost you – and I have to confess to you that there’ve been times these nine long weeks when I’ve thought you’d be a fool to come back to me! ’ He gave a nervous smile.
She smiled back, and said, ‘No, nonsense!’
‘Aye, well, you get to thinking strange things when you’re too much alone. It’s not a long step from thinking how lucky I am that you married me and how I don’t deserve you, to thinking some other more worthy feller might steal you away.’
‘You mustn’t think like that. I’m your wife – and I ’m the lucky one.’
‘Oh, my love,’ he said, in a broken tone, and had his hands not been full, he’d have drawn her to him and kissed her. He looked troubled. ‘I know I’ve not been a true husband to you – no, you don’t have to deny it – and you’d be in your rights to despise me—’
‘Joseph, please don’t talk like that,’ she said, using his name, as she hardly ever did, in the hope that it would move him. ‘It’s not true.’
‘But I want to make it up to you, if I can,’ he continued.
‘And to begin with, I’m going to buy you a horse.
You should have had one from the start, and I was a fool to listen to those spiteful old cats.
No, don’t say anything. I’d have had one waiting for you when you got back here, except that I thought you’d enjoy choosing for yourself.
You shall have a horse, and ride whenever you want, and this winter you shall hunt too, if you like.
And I might even hire a horse and come out with you now and again – though I’m not the world’s greatest rider.
And I’m going to try to arrange my work so I spend more time with you, and we’ll be social and do things together.
Dinners and balls and London trips – whatever you like. I want you to be happy, my Nina.’
‘I am happy,’ she said. Thinking about the horse she was to have, she put down her cup and leaned forward to kiss him heartily enough to convince him she meant it. ‘You are much too kind to me,’ she said and, the first kiss having been to his cheek, laid a second on his lips.
‘No,’ he said, seeming a little shaken. ‘I could never be too kind to you. Nothing I do could be worthy of you.’
She felt so bad, all she could think to do was to kiss him again. Feeling his lips respond, his breath quicken, she wondered if he would come to her bed that night, and if, perhaps, he might manage what he hardly ever had. And how she would feel about it.
But he didn’t.