Page 45 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #1)

With their six months’ mourning over, Rachel and Alice could accept invitations again. The first came from their friends the Brinklows of the Red House in Canons Ashmore, Ena and Clara, who were of an age with Rachel and Alice, and therefore not ‘out’.

‘A children’s party,’ Lady Stainton said. ‘How very – quaint. Parlour games, I suppose, and tea. You wish to go?’

‘Yes, please , Mama.’

‘I suppose you wish to see your friends,’ she said, as though plucking the least unlikely reason from the aether.

She surveyed them with a critical frown.

‘You had better wear your tarlatan plaids. And Taylor must do something with your hair. What an awkward stage you are at! Not out, but too old to be children.’ She dismissed them with a wave of the hand.

The girls were eager for company and for change, and their pleasure was increased when the closed carriage was got out for them, drawn by the two bays and driven by coachman John Manley in livery.

‘You didn’t think you were going to walk, did you?

’ Daisy said, seeing them off. But they had thought just that.

The carriage was the finishing touch for Alice, but it didn’t quite overcome for Rachel the shame of the tarlatans.

They were definitely frocks, not gowns, in a dark green-and-brown plaid, tied around the middle with a broad silk sash – Rachel’s fawn and Alice’s pale green.

The simple skirts had no bustle, and ended at the ankle-bone.

Furthermore, Miss Taylor had refused to allow them to wear their hair up.

‘Not suitable at your age,’ she snapped.

She had brushed it until their heads hurt, and drawn the side pieces back into a knot, tied with a ribbon, but the rest of it fell loose behind in ringlets.

‘We look like children,’ Rachel fretted.

‘We are children,’ Alice answered.

‘I’m practically seventeen. And I hate having to dress the same as you.’

‘Oh, don’t spoil it, Ray,’ Alice pleaded. ‘Let’s just enjoy ourselves. We haven’t been anywhere or seen anyone for months. I wonder who’ll be here?’

Ena and Clara, and their younger brother Leopold, who was twelve and therefore beneath consideration, rushed to greet the girls.

‘You’ll never guess what! Ernie’s here!’ they cried. ‘Isn’t it splendid?’

Their elder brother was nineteen, and up at Oxford, and therefore very much to be considered, especially as he was also quite good-looking and very good-natured.

In his honour, Mrs Brinklow had invited several other older ‘young people’, so it was not absolutely a children’s party.

In fact, Alice thought, with secret delight, if Mama had known who was to be there, she might not have let them come.

There was Lord Bexley’s younger brother and sister, Sydney and Eveline, and Mary Baring-Gould from Ashmore Court, all ‘out’ and proper adults.

And the very first person she saw when they went into the drawing-room was the bicyclist, Victor Lattery.

He came straight away to greet them, but it was Rachel he looked at.

‘I thought I was never going to see you again,’ he said.

Alice passed on to talk to other people.

Lattery continued to gaze at Rachel. ‘It’s been months and months!

I’ve looked for you everywhere, but I’ve never seen you,’ he said, in a low voice that she found rather thrilling. ‘Where have you been hiding yourself?’

‘Nowhere,’ Rachel said stupidly – she wasn’t used to this sort of conversation. ‘You could have seen us at church every Sunday.’

‘Church?’ he said vaguely.

‘Don’t you go?’ she asked, slightly shocked. She thought everyone in the world went.

‘You mean St Peter’s, I suppose?’ he said. ‘Well, you see, my aunt’s Catholic. We go to St Aiden’s in New Ashmore.’ This was the settlement at the top of the hill that had developed around the railway station.

‘Oh,’ said Rachel. She had never met a Roman Catholic before. She was sure her mother wouldn’t approve. But it didn’t seem important for the moment. The important thing was that he had looked everywhere for her.

‘I hope you didn’t take any harm from your tumble into the ditch that day?’ he said.

‘No, not at all,’ she said. ‘But the cart’s axle was cracked and we had to have it mended.’

‘And your splendid pony – what was his name?’

‘Biscuit. Oh, nothing bothers him.’

‘When you said you lived up at the Castle, you didn’t mention that you were the earl’s daughter. Rather naughty of you, Lady Rachel! I might have made an embarrassing mistake.’

‘Why? Who did you think I was?’ she said, puzzled.

‘You must remember, I was new to the area. It wasn’t until I mentioned your name to my aunt that I learned the truth.’

Ena and Clara were trying to organise everyone into a game, assisted by their governess, Miss Wylie, who was there to ensure propriety. ‘Victor, Rachel, do come on,’ Ena called. ‘We’re going to play Lottery Tickets.’

Lattery ushered Rachel to the table, pulled out a chair for her, and took the next one for himself. She had never had so much attention, and was pleased and flattered. Lattery helped her with every hand, even cheating himself to make sure she did well.

To Rachel’s surprise, even the older young people seemed to enjoy a romp.

After Lottery Tickets, they played Crambo, and then Nebuchadnezzar.

A very good tea was served; and after tea, on the suggestion of Ernie, the carpet was rolled back and Miss Wylie agreed to play the piano for some country dances.

Rachel danced with Victor Lattery, Ernie Brinklow, Sydney Bexley, then out of kindness with young Leo Brinklow, and then with Lattery again.

He squeezed her hand and said, ‘When shall I see you? I can’t bear the idea of losing you when I’ve only just found you again.’

‘But I was always here,’ she said, a little bewildered.

‘Do you bicycle?’ he asked.

`I don’t know – I’ve never tried.’

‘Oh, it’s a delightful exercise, so health-giving and wholesome. I’m sure your mama wouldn’t object.’

Rachel rather thought she would – Mama seemed to object to just about everything – but she only said, ‘I haven’t got a bicycle.’

‘Oh, that’s no problem at all. They’re easy enough to borrow. Look here, if I arranged a party to go out one day, would you come?’

‘I’d like to,’ she began – the rest of the sentence was, ‘but I don’t suppose I’d be allowed to.’

He didn’t wait for it. ‘I’ll send you a note, then, when it’s all arranged.’

Rachel didn’t say any more. She wanted him to think she was as grown-up as him, and could do as she chose. She didn’t really expect anything to come of his scheme; and the next day, the news arrived that Giles had chosen a bride, and it went out of her head.

*

Dory had been listening to Mr Sebastian play.

He liked her to be there, and she had taken some sewing in with her, so she hadn’t been doing anything wrong.

All the same, she must have had some sense of guilt because she jumped like a startled hare when she came out of the room and James suddenly appeared beside her.

‘I wish you wouldn’t do that – creep up on me,’ she complained, trying to walk away from him down the corridor.

But he kept up easily. ‘You like that old man,’ he said, as if it was an accusation. ‘What’s there to like about him? He’s old and ugly. And messy. I have to brush his clothes – you should see the state he gets ’em in.’

‘Go away,’ she said.

‘You can’t talk to me like that. I’m first footman.’

‘Go away, please ,’ she said, with irony.

‘Answer me. Why do you like him and not me?’

‘I’ve told you – you’re not a nice person.’

‘I could be nice. I am nice – didn’t I buy you tea? I’ve got money. I could buy you a present. What would you like?’

‘It doesn’t work like that,’ she said, with an unwelcome pang of pity for him. He wanted to be a real man, but he was incomplete, a human being with essential parts missing. ‘Do you know the story of Pinocchio?’ she asked.

James was distracted. ‘No! What? What’s that got to do with anything? Look, here, you ought to stick with me, because I’ve got ambition. I’m going places.’

‘I wish you’d let me go places – I’ve work to do.’

‘I’m not going to be a footman for ever. Either butler or valet, not sure which’d pay off best. There’s a lot of extras you can lay your hands on as butler. But you travel more as valet. Our new lord—’

‘Our new lord has already got a valet,’ Dory pointed out.

James gave his least attractive grin. ‘That old fool? I can see him off.’ He looked at her closely. ‘Would you like me if I was his lordship’s valet? I could do things for you. Get you moved up. You’re too good to be just a sewing-maid.’

‘I wasn’t always a sewing-maid,’ she said mischievously, ‘but it suits me just now.’

‘What d’you mean? What were you, then?’

‘I’m a foreign princess, in hiding from the revolutionaries. One day the call will come from my loyal subjects to reclaim the crown, and I’ll be off.’

He had to think about that, and though it was only for a few seconds, it was enough for her to nip through the pass door onto the back stairs and have it swish shut between them.

Crooks was profoundly glad to be back at the Castle, not least because Mr Richard had stayed on in Berkeley Square, which meant he had got away from Speen.

The man had been urging him to come out on the spree again, and Crooks couldn’t help feeling that the invitations were issued simply to tease him.

The horror of that night at the public house …

the young woman with the plunging décolletage …

There were nights when he woke, sweating, from nightmares about vast wobbling bosoms, where he was pursued, engulfed and suffocated.

It had got so he hardly dared eat toasted cheese for supper any more.

Everyone at the Castle was interested, of course, in his lordship’s engagement, and wanted more details than he was able to give. ‘Very small. Almost like a child. Dark-haired. A very nice young lady,’ he managed.