Page 94 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)

‘I hate not being with you at Christmas,’ Richard said.

‘It isn’t really any different from any other day of the year,’ Molly said.

‘And I hate it when you’re reasonable. It feels different, and don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.’

‘Oh, the romance of significant dates! Well, if it’s any comfort to you, I shan’t be alone. I shall be going over to spend it with Chloe. The housekeeper, Mrs Mackie, will be cooking us Christmas dinner, and apparently she’s a very good cook.’

‘And will the moustachioed villain be there?’

‘If you mean Sir Thomas—’

‘Who else?’

‘He’ll be in Surrey, spending Christmas with his wife, entertaining all the local dignitaries. They always have a big dinner on Boxing Day, so I’m told, and invitations to it are much prized.’

‘Let’s hope Lady Violet keeps him until Twelfth Night at least. What’s the flat like? You never did tell me.’

‘Large rooms, but gloomy, all in the Victorian style: heavy dark furniture, red flock wallpaper, a red velvet cover on the mantelpiece with little bobbles all along the edge – do you know the sort of thing?’

‘I do.’

‘The old aunt’s what-nots are everywhere. Sir Thomas never removed them, and Chloe, of course, doesn’t even see them, so there they sit, to be meticulously dusted every day by Mrs Mackie. Who is my main comfort.’

‘What’s she like?’

‘A Scots woman – ’

‘So I gathered.’

‘– in her fifties or sixties. She was housekeeper to the old aunt. Very respectable. And she seems determined to maintain the proprieties. I couldn’t exactly discuss the situation with her – after all, she is employed by Sir Thomas – but I hinted as much as I could and she made a granite jaw and assured me that she would take “ verra guid care of the young lady”.

And she said, “You need have no fear, Mistress Sands, of any queer goings-on as long as I keep hoose here.”’

Richard laughed. ‘You should be on the halls, Mrs Harry Lauder! But, seriously, I’m glad to hear Chloe has a Cerberus.’

Molly didn’t smile. ‘I’m afraid even Mrs Mackie won’t be able to stave off scandal if this plan goes ahead for a foreign tour next year. If he shows her off around Paris and Berlin, no-one will have any doubt. There’ll be no keeping a lid on it.’

‘But there’ll be a large entourage, won’t there? It won’t just be two of them in a sleeper compartment?’

‘He’ll take a secretary and a dresser with him, and possibly some other servants, but—’

‘Well, then you should go, too, as Chloe’s dresser. What could be more respectable than to have her mother with her?’

She smiled now. ‘Considering how you would hate me to go abroad, it shows greatness of mind on your part to suggest it.’

‘I shouldn’t hate you to go abroad, if you went with me. En épousailles , perhaps. My uncle has apparently just discovered he owns a palace in Venice. Perhaps he’d lend it to us. The Ca’ Scozzesi, it’s called.’

‘The Scottish House?’

‘You see? More Scots. Entirely respectable.’

‘I’m not sure one wants to be entirely respectable on one’s honeymoon,’ she said teasingly. ‘Not that I’ve ever had one.’

‘Neither have I. Which makes me believe all the more firmly that it’s something we should try for the first time together.’

She sighed. ‘One day you’ll wear me down. If only Chloe were safely settled . . . But we’d have to live abroad. The scandal of marrying your father’s mistress would ruin you in England.’

‘ Late father’s ex -mistress. And how can I convince you that nobody would know or care?’

‘They’d know , my dear. People have an uncanny knack of always knowing the one thing you want to keep concealed.’

Giles had been in London, consulting the banker, Vogel; and Richard, who had gone up on undisclosed business of his own, met him at Marylebone and travelled back with him.

The train rushed black through a frozen landscape of black and white.

The sun was a wobbling scarlet ball, sinking towards the horizon behind streaks of lavender cloud like smoke, against a chilly pale pink sky.

Richard and Giles were bundled in their greatcoats against the inadequacy of railway heating. Richard offered his brother a cigarillo, and they both lit up. Giles sighed out the first smoke and said, ‘Well, at least the finances are looking satisfactory.’

‘That’s good to hear.’

‘Your milk scheme—’

‘ Our milk scheme.’

‘As you please – it’s taken up some capital this year, and it’s not making a return yet—’

‘But it will. Especially if Lord Shacklock comes in. I don’t care for the man, but his involvement will encourage other farmers to join, and obviously the more we have on board the better. It’s greater volume that will bring in the profits.’

Giles smiled. ‘To hear you talking like this! Can you really be my wild brother Richard, or has a sorcerer exchanged you with a metamorph?’

‘Oh, I’m still Wild Richard underneath. But I have to be serious and weighty to beat Shacklock down to a reasonable price per gallon. He seems to think we should be so grateful that he deigns to sell us his milk that we’ll pay him whatever he asks.’

‘I thought the herd was really his wife’s hobby?’

‘It was to begin with. I think she saw herself as a sort of Marie Antoinette, playing milkmaids with nicely washed cows dressed in ribbons. The reality of the other thing that comes out of cows was probably too harsh a descent to earth. At any rate, her interest has waned, and Shacklock is looking for a way for it all not to be a waste.’

‘She’s a lot younger than him, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, and a lot prettier.’ Richard grinned. ‘Rather a man-eater, from what I observed. If I have to have much to do with her, I may need to take a bodyguard with me, in case she sees the old wild Richard and not the new serious one.’

‘You wouldn’t ?’ Giles began to exclaimed.

‘Of course not. On our own doorstep? And Shacklock’s the sort to reach for his shotgun if anyone’s caught tampering with his property. Look how he peppered that poacher last winter! Besides, she doesn’t appeal.’

‘You have changed.’

‘But you were saying the finances are sound?’

‘Despite all the capital outlay, on the milk scheme and around the estate, we’re doing very well. The jam scheme is bringing in so much money, Vogel’s having to look for new places to put it. And that’s despite our mother trying to ruin us with clothes for Rachel.’

‘Ah, Rachel. I’m glad to see she’s perking up a little. She looked very pulled when she came home.’

‘Too much dancing.’

‘Probably. But now Alice is moping about something. Am I doomed always to have one sister up and one down?’

‘You have three sisters.’

‘Linda’s always the same,’ Richard said. ‘Down, down, down.’

Thinking about the up-and-downity of his younger sisters, Richard went looking for them when he got home.

Rachel was in the great hall, helping to decorate the Christmas tree that had been brought up by the woodsman while he and Giles were out.

The children were in a state of wild excitement, dancing about wearing coronets of tinsel, and quarrelling over who was to put the angel on the top.

Since Linda had a firm hold of it, Richard guessed she would keep that privilege to herself.

Miss Kettel, for once not trying to contain them, was chatting earnestly to Uncle Sebastian about Dickens, her eyes fixed intently on his face.

Kitty stood watching the scene, with Louis in her arms.

Rachel stood on a chair and carefully disposed glass ornaments.

She seemed happy, and either exertion or pleasant anticipation had put colour into her cheeks.

Alice was not there. The tree was something that in previous years she would have been sure to be involved in, and it added to Richard’s feeling that something was troubling her.

He found her in the old schoolroom, which she and Rachel had long used as their sitting-room.

There was a fire in the grate, and its red contrasted with the grey snow-light from the windows, making a little glowing cave around the hearthrug.

Alice was sitting there, looking through a sheaf of drawings.

The dogs had found her, and were basking side by side on the rug.

They heaved themselves to their feet and came to greet him, swinging their tails, their yellow eyes shining wolfishly in the firelight.

Alice gave a quick glance over her shoulder, then turned back to her drawings, shuffling them so that those on top were underneath. He noted the subterfuge, as he had also noted the glint of what might have been a tear on her cheek, and the quick swipe of her sleeve that removed it.

‘I’ve just got back,’ he said. ‘What are you doing up here all alone? Are you coming down? They’re decorating the tree without you.’

‘There wasn’t room for all of us round it,’ Alice said, her voice sounding normal. Far too normal, as though it were an effort.

‘But your eye is needed. After all, you are the artistic one of the family.’

‘Kitty’s artistic. She does lovely embroidery. You should see the buttercups and daisies she’s done on Alexander’s bib.’

Richard walked round and sat in the fireside chair so that he was facing her. ‘You don’t need to put on a show for me,’ he said. ‘I’m your brother, and I know when you’re upset about something. Can’t I help?’

‘I’m not upset,’ she said. ‘Just—’

‘Yes?’ She didn’t answer. He held out a hand. ‘Can I see?’