Page 14 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #1)

It was a love-match between them, so when Captain Sanderton went abroad, Antonia went with him.

Nina was born in India, where she spent the first years of her life.

It was a happy marriage, between two well-matched people, and Nina’s had been a happy childhood, full of love, laughter, conversation, encouragement and activity – everything Kitty had lacked.

Only in being without siblings were they similar.

The Sandertons would have loved more children, but it hadn’t happened.

When Nina was nine, this happy scene was ruptured. The climate did not agree with her mother, and Antonia’s health was suffering so much that the now Major Sanderton decreed she should go back to England, taking her child with her.

‘It was awful leaving Papa behind,’ Nina had told Kitty. ‘And my dear pony. And the servants. But it was even more terrible for Mama. They’d never been parted before. She cried and cried on the boat going home. She tried not to let me see, but I couldn’t help knowing it.’

They went to live with Major Sanderton’s older sister, who had married an academic, but was now widowed, and had room in her tall, narrow red house in Draycott Place for the wife and child of a brother of whom, in her understated way, she was very fond.

Antonia’s health improved a little, but she was missing her husband dreadfully.

Nina fared better, missing him too, and missing India, which was all she knew, but she had an enquiring mind and boundless energy and quickly found things to please her.

And she soon learned to use her aunt as a source of both information and diversion.

Aunt Schofield had no children and had never wanted them.

As well educated as her brother – unusually so for her time – she had married into academia and relished the life of the mind and the intellectual opportunities furnished by her sympathetic husband.

He had been considerably older than her, and from the beginning they had both realised she was likely to be long a widow.

She had a pension and the leasehold of the house, and with a circle of bluestocking friends, she had not anticipated any difficulty in occupying those years.

She had never minded solitude – indeed, rather preferred it – but she did not shrink from her duty to her brother and his family.

And the large brown eyes of her little niece, turned up to her in the flattering assumption that ‘Aunt’ knew the answer to every question, were endearing.

After the initial rally, Antonia’s health declined again, and only a year after her return to England she died. While Kitty had lost her mother before ever knowing her, Nina had lost warmth and love and intimacy, the sort of mothering Kitty had always craved.

‘Aunt Schofield wrote to Papa that she would take care of me for as long as necessary,’ Nina had told Kitty. ‘I don’t suppose she imagined it would be for ever.’

The major got leave at last, and started the long journey home.

But he contracted a fever in the Suez Canal, and died before the ship reached Marseille.

When Nina had told her this part of the story, Kitty had been silent, unable to express how awful she thought it must have been for Nina to become an orphan.

From what Nina had gathered about Kitty’s family, she felt her friend had always been an orphan, despite having two parents.

She at least had known love, and still did, though Aunt Schofield’s was not expressed in caresses.

She was brisk and practical with a sharp intellect, and she showed her love by tending Nina’s mind, like a prize garden.

She undertook Nina’s education, gave her books that never normally came a girl’s way, and involved her various academic friends in the scheme: Nina had teaching from some of the best in each discipline.

Some of her aunt’s character rubbed off on her: she was practical, sensible, not given to complaining or brooding.

The loss of her dear parents left a dark place inside her, but she shut the door on it and always looked resolutely forward.

She was surprised when her aunt interrupted a lesson one day to say, typically without preamble, ‘I am going to send you to school, Nina.’

Nina frowned. ‘But why? They just polish girls up to get married. I’m going to be a teacher.’

Mrs Schofield was unmoved. ‘Nevertheless, you shall go. You spend too much time with old people.’ She raised a hand to stop Nina protesting. ‘You need to make friends of your own age. But I have chosen a school where I believe you will have many opportunities to extend your education.’

Nina was doubtful, but she was always willing to try a new experience, and supposed it might be fun. ‘Will I be boarding?’ she asked.

‘That is an important part of the experience. But you will come home for holidays, of course.’

Nina thought, It will only be for a few weeks at a time.

I’m sure I can put up with that. And, as it happened, she had met Kitty on the first day and taken her under her wing.

So she had a friend and a project – bringing Kitty out of her shell – and since her aunt’s dictum was ‘Never miss the opportunity to learn something new’, she threw herself into school life and found she enjoyed it. She was sorry it was over.

Kitty asked now, with trepidation, ‘What do you suppose is going to happen to us?’

Nina said, ‘I know exactly what will happen to you. You’ll have a splendid come-out, you’ll be the belle of the Season, you’ll fall in love and marry your handsome prince.’

Kitty didn’t speak. She longed for love and marriage, though the idea scared her too.

‘Miss Thornton says we’re lucky to be finishing now instead of December last year,’ Nina went on, ‘because court mourning cast a shadow over the Season. But next year’s Season will be brilliant.’

The old Queen, Victoria, had died in January.

Everyone had been very sad – it was like your own grandmother dying – and though court mourning had been over at the end of April, the mood had continued to be dampened for some time.

It was not helped by the continuing bad news about the war.

When the main towns in South Africa had been captured in 1900, everyone had thought the war was as good as finished, but it was still dragging painfully on with no end in sight.

The newspapers complained bitterly that a quarter of a million disciplined British soldiers seemed unable to conquer just twenty thousand unruly Boers.

But despite the war, everyone was looking forward to a new era beginning with the new year.

People said things would be much livelier, because King Teddy would be a very different kind of monarch from old Queen Vicky.

Rules would be relaxed. He liked to eat and drink; he encouraged conversation at dinner; he attended the races and the theatre; he dined at subjects’ houses.

He even included commoners among his closest friends.

Nina didn’t quite understand how the tastes of someone as remote as the King or Queen could affect lowly people like them, but Miss Thornton said the country always took on the character of its monarch.

At any rate, it would affect Kitty, whose father was a baronet and, she gathered, very wealthy, and would bring her out in the first style.

But Kitty sighed. ‘I dread coming out. I’m not like you. I hate people looking at me. And having to talk to men !’

Nina was amused. ‘You won’t need to. All you’ll have to do is smile. The men will do all the talking. Miss Thornton says one can be either pretty or charming – one needn’t be both.’

‘ You ’re both. You’re much prettier than me.’

Nina knew that she was blessed with good looks.

Her features were classically handsome – a straight nose and firm chin – and her brown eyes made an unusual contrast with thick fair hair the colour of harvest wheat.

But she had no vanity about it. Her aunt valued only the things of the mind, and it had rubbed off on Nina.

And from her school days, she had learned that though prettiness did matter for females, when it came to marriage other things mattered more: money, and family.

‘You know I won’t have a proper come-out like you,’ she said lightly. ‘We’re not high society. And I’ve no fortune.’

‘But won’t you have any dancing, or parties, or anything?’

‘Aunt Schofield might take me to a public ball or two, but the people she knows don’t have daughters to bring out, and that’s how one gets invitations.’

‘I’ll ask Mama to ask you to mine.’

‘Thank you, darling, but I don’t suppose she’d want me there. Don’t worry about me – I don’t need to come out. I’m going to be a teacher.’

‘You always say that, but will you be happy?’

‘Look at Miss Thornton. Doesn’t she seem happy?’

Kitty still doubted. She herself wanted love, a husband, and babies – particularly babies – to fill the empty place inside her, and as she couldn’t imagine a contented life without those things, she wanted Nina to have them too.

‘We will always be friends, won’t we?’ she asked, in a small voice.

‘Always,’ Nina said.

Lady Bayfield had not intended to fetch Kitty from school herself, but she had received a carefully worded letter from Miss Thornton, saying that when she did, Miss Thornton would welcome the opportunity of a brief word with her about Kitty’s immediate future.

Lady Bayfield was inclined to dismiss the request as impertinence, but she remembered that Miss Thornton’s was considered the best school in London and that her fees were extremely high, so perhaps she had something worth hearing.

She sent a scribbled note, and on the day arrived in her carriage and a severe mood, ready to be offended if necessary.

In the comfortable private sitting-room – only too well furnished with books to be truly elegant – Miss Thornton offered refreshments, and when they were declined began.

‘We have been privileged to have Miss Bayfield as a pupil here and I have grown extremely fond of her. I assume that you will be bringing her out when the new Season starts?’

Lady Bayfield assented.

‘She is a most accomplished and, may I say, beautiful girl, but …’ a quick frown tugged Lady Bayfield’s brows at the word, and Miss Thornton hurried on ‘… she is shy and retiring, especially in the company of strangers.’

‘Are you saying she won’t “take”?’ Lady Bayfield interrupted, with blunt readiness to be affronted.

‘I am saying that a lavish debut and a full Season can be a considerable strain on a girl of such delicate sensibilities. I would like to think that everything possible would be done to make her debut enjoyable for her, as well as successful.’

‘Kindly get to the point,’ Lady Bayfield said frostily. She couldn’t see where this was going, but she was suspicious.

Miss Thornton obliged. ‘Miss Bayfield has a very particular friend in the school, a Miss Sanderton, and I have noticed that she’s always more confident in her company. It can be a great comfort to a shy girl to have the companionship of a friend during her Season.’

Lady Bayfield’s mind was working quickly.

It was not infrequently done, two girls, friends, being brought out together.

Miss Thornton would hardly have mentioned Kitty’s shyness if she hadn’t thought it might be a problem: awkwardness in company could certainly damage her chances.

On the other hand, the last thing she wanted was for Kitty to be outshone by some other girl.

If there was to be any arrangement of this sort, the other girl must be second to Kitty in every way and that must be clearly understood by the girl’s parents.

Loftily, as though not much interested, she asked, ‘Who is this Miss—?’

‘Sanderton. She’s a nice, well-behaved girl, well-spoken and refined, from a most respectable family.

Unfortunately, her lack of dowry will prevent her making as brilliant a marriage as we all expect for Miss Bayfield.

But they are very fond of each other, and I feel she would prove most useful in bringing out Miss Bayfield’s fine qualities and helping her to shine as she should. ’

Lady Bayfield considered. This Miss Sanderton sounded rather middle-class.

She didn’t want some indigent hangeron lowering the tone of Kitty’s debut.

On the other hand, if she brought out the best in Kitty, as Miss Thornton suggested …

and provided she was well-behaved and could take instructions …

The image of Kitty cowering tonguetied at her own come-out was one to make Lady Bayfield shudder.

‘What is her family?’ she asked abruptly.

‘Her father was an army officer, of a good Northamptonshire family. Her mother was a country rector’s daughter. Both are dead, and she is being brought up by her paternal aunt, a widowed lady who has a private income and no children of her own.’

Lady Bayfield liked the sound of the last part.

If there was Sanderton money for the girl to inherit, that would make her more acceptable.

There must be no whiff of poverty, however genteel.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I will consider what you have said, and if Sir John and I decide it would be in Miss Bayfield’s interest, I will ask the girl’s aunt to come and see me. ’

Miss Thornton inclined her head gracefully, and rang to have Lady Bayfield shown out. She had done what she could for Kitty – and for Nina.

Nina had come to her school as one of her special pupils, at a reduced fee, for though there was clearly intellect in the family, there was no money.

But even at the initial interview, she had so loved Nina’s mind, she would have taken her for no fee at all.

Kitty was no more than average, but she had a great capacity for trying hard when affection was involved, and seeing how attached she was from the beginning to Nina, she had taken her in hand too – though at the full fee.

Lady Bayfield was the sort who believed the more she paid for something, the more it was worth.

So the girls had been taught together, by her.

She was fond of them both, and felt each in her way had the possibility of success within her grasp.

Together, they ought to do better than apart.

She hoped Lady Bayfield had taken the bait; and she hoped – for she had met her – that the intelligent and independent Mrs Schofield would see past Lady Bayfield’s arrogant manner and fashionable appearance and consider her niece’s best interests.