Page 47 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #1)

‘If you promised, then I suppose you must go.’

‘Thank you,’ Nina said, but she didn’t sound relieved by the permission. To go back was not the answer to whatever was troubling her.

A suspicion formed in Aunt Schofield’s mind.

‘Nina, you haven’t—?’ she began. Fallen in love?

But at the last minute she realised she didn’t want the answer to that question.

Instead she said, ‘You may go back, but you must buck up. I can’t have you drooping about like a wilted flower.

It’s not seemly – and it’s not helpful. Behave cheerfully, and you’ll feel more cheerful.

When you come back after the wedding, I shall see to it that you are kept busy.

There are always plenty of good works to be done, and not enough people to do them.

All this idle pleasure is sapping your moral fibre, and I don’t like it. ’

Nina said, ‘You’re very bracing. I wish you were with me all the time.’

‘You must learn to do it without me. I shan’t always be here, and you have the rest of your life ahead of you.’

Just then, the rest of her life looked like an endless desert, but she thought, I have to be cheerful for Kitty, so it’s a good thing to practise now . And she managed a smile.

The peace treaty had been signed in Pretoria on the 31st of May and, with the war over at last, Richard began to see army friends and colleagues reappearing in London, some on leave and others, like him, out for good.

It didn’t take them long to find out where he was, and his two best friends, Bracegirdle and Keenswell, ran him down in Berkeley Square on their very first evening home, and took him out on a carouse that lasted until dawn.

Over the first bottle, he saw the look in their eyes, the long stare of men who have been used to a different horizon, and who are still not entirely living in the here and now.

More bottles followed, and the look gradually faded, as he supposed his had.

They wanted to know what he’d been doing.

‘The Season,’ he told them. ‘Every ball, rout, dinner, card party and supper on the schedule. Exhausting! Hunting Boers across the veld was child’s play in comparison. I was helping my brother find a wife.’

‘Your brother that’s the earl?’ Bracegirdle asked unsteadily. His head was moving minutely as if he was having difficulty in keeping Richard in focus.

‘That’s the one. Haven’t any other. Any amount of sisters but only one brother.

Anyway, I’ve got him fixed up, getting married at the end of the month, and then I shall be free to do …

whatever I like.’ There was a slight hesitation before the last three words, as he realised he hadn’t thought about what to do next.

‘Brother getting married,’ Bracegirdle explained solemnly to Keenswell.

‘Important event,’ Keenswell agreed. ‘Going to be his supporter, I suppose?’

‘That’s the ticket,’ said Richard.

‘And then – pfft ! Another good man gone.’

‘Happens all the time,’ Bracegirdle agreed.

‘Not to me,’ said Richard.

Bracegirdle concentrated owlishly. ‘Sisters. You said you had sisters.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Enough for both of us?’ Keenswell enquired.

‘Too young. Not out yet,’ said Richard.

‘Oh,’ said Bracegirdle. ‘Just as well, perhaps. Interfere with the fishing, women. They squirm, and talk about fish being slimy. And complain about water being wet.’ He shook his head at the illogic of the other sex.

‘Fishing!’ said Keenswell, as if he had just heard of it for the first time.

‘Scotland, that’s the thing,’ said Bracegirdle. ‘Town’s impossible this time of year. Too noisy. Salmon, trout – July’s best for trout. We should all go to Scotland.’ He managed to get Richard in focus again. ‘Haven’t you got an uncle in Scotland? Lord something?’

‘My mother’s brother. Earl of Leake,’ said Richard. ‘His seat’s in Northumberland, but he has a place on the Spey for fishing.’

‘We should go,’ said Bracegirdle.

‘We should,’ said Richard. ‘But I have to get my brother married first.’

‘Right! Get the brother married. Then we’ll all go and visit your uncle Leake.’

‘On the Spey,’ Keenswell added.

‘For the fishing. Think he’d like us to come?’

‘I’m sure he’d adore it,’ said Richard.

*

The next morning, Speen roused Richard from a deep sleep with a cup of coffee and said, ‘There’s two gentlemen downstairs to see you.’

‘What time is it?’ Richard asked, struggling back to the world.

‘Half past eleven. Her ladyship’s at church, but I let you sleep in.’

‘Two gentlemen?’

‘Came in a motor-car. Very keen to see you, sir. Said something about plans made last night.’

Downstairs, Richard found Bracegirdle and Keenswell looking surprisingly alert. He commented on it.

‘I think I’m still drunk,’ Bracegirdle admitted. ‘But that’s all right.’

‘What are you doing here so early?’ Richard asked.

‘Agreed last night,’ Keenswell said. ‘Don’t you remember? We decided we’d borrow Farringdon’s motor-car and go for a spin.’

‘To Richmond,’ Bracegirdle added.

‘I seem to remember Richmond being mentioned,’ Richard said, with a frown, ‘but I can’t remember the context.’

‘Going for a spin, luncheon by the river, fresh air, et cetera. Are you ready?’

Richard grinned. ‘Why not? Who is Farringdon? Never mind. I’ve never driven a motor-car. I’ve always wanted to. I suppose it must be easy.’

‘Must be,’ said Keenswell. ‘Farringdon manages, and he’s an awful fool.’

‘Let’s go, then,’ Richard said, eagerly.

It was a 22h.p. Daimler, with two seats in front and two behind.

‘Goes like the Dickens,’ Keenswell promised.

Bracegirdle took the wheel to begin with, but after he’d manoeuvred them at a modest pace through the narrow streets, Richard became ever more anxious to ‘have a go’.

Finally, when they got out onto the wider Oxford Street, Bracegirdle agreed to let him take over.

Having had the controls explained, Richard took the wheel with supreme confidence, and after a few mighty coughs from the engine, some stops and starts and one alarming passage of going backwards, he got the hang of it.

‘Couldn’t be easier!’ he crowed, as they bowled along. ‘Nothing to it! Let’s have some fun.’

‘Hang on to your hats, boys,’ Bracegirdle said, grinning.

‘Hang on to everything,’ Richard said, and let out the throttle.

The journey down to Canons Ashmore by train was not long. Kitty beguiled the time by rereading the guidebook’s description of Ashmore Castle. She had been studying it ever since the invitation came, following Miss Thornton’s rule of being prepared.

Ashmore Castle, the first sentence said disappointingly, was not actually a castle, though the first Earl of Stainton, when rebuilding the house in 1780, had finished the parapet with crenulations to reflect the name.

But there had once been a castle – a motte-and-bailey fortification built in 1080, and abandoned in 1202.

It had been a little to the north-west of the present house, and the mound of the motte could still be discerned, though there were no stoneworks left above ground.

The stones of the bailey had been removed by local people over the years, many of them to build, in 1232, an Augustine priory in the valley, from which the village of Canons Ashmore took its name.

In 1248 the canons had been given permission to alter the course of the river Ash to create fish pools.

When the priory had been dissolved by Henry VIII in 1536, the pools had been abandoned, and subsequent flooding and encroachment of surrounding trees had created the present Ashmore Carr (a carr, the book explained helpfully, is a waterlogged woodland).

The Priory and its lands had been granted immediately after the dissolution by the King to his friend and courtier Henry Tallant, who had pulled down the priory house and used the stones to build a new house in a more elevated situation further up the hill.

Local people had dubbed it Ashmore Castle because of the vaunting ambitions of its owner.

He and his son showed remarkable agility in managing to thrive under both Mary and Elizabeth, and his grandson was raised to a barony by James I in 1620.

The house was massively extended and altered in 1710 by the fourth baron, with a grant from Queen Anne, in whose favour he found himself after the fall from grace of the Marlboroughs.

The earldom was granted in 1780, for services during the Siege of Charleston, and on his return home the first earl largely rebuilt the house in Georgian style, adding the famous battlements.

All this mention of historical figures and events (the third earl had been killed in the Crimea) made Kitty feel smaller and more unworthy than ever.

She seemed to be about to marry into the entire history of England.

She wished so much that Nina was there to comfort her.

She wished even more that she could jump out of the train and run away very fast and very far.

When she was roused from her reading by the shouts of ‘ Canons Ashmore! Canons Ashmore! ’ as they pulled into the station, her heart contracted so hard she felt faint.

‘Come, Catherine! Don’t dither!’ Mama’s voice was sharp, and had the effect of galvanising her, but as she gathered herself together, she noticed Mama’s hands were shaking – she actually dropped the magazine she had been leafing through.

Could it be that Mama was nervous too? She wasn’t sure if the idea gave her courage, or the opposite.

The station master himself came to open their carriage door, hand them down, and guide them towards the exit, and right outside there was an open landau, gleaming black with gold trim on the wheels, and drawn by four beautiful dapple greys.

There was a coachman and two grooms in livery, who bowed to her and helped her in and did not once betray any shrug or curling of the lip to suggest she was anything but a Very Important Person.

They drove through a pretty village, then across a bridge over a river (the Ash, she supposed) and up a hill of green pastures dotted with fine old timber and grazed by sheep.

All this will be yours , she heard Nina’s voice whisper in her mind.

It was too much. She felt like crying. Surely she must wake up soon.

And then they caught the first sight of the house. It looked very large, a symmetrical oblong of many windows, a large portico with Corinthian columns covering the central third, and the roof hidden by the crenulated parapet.

‘Palladian style,’ said Lady Bayfield. ‘I am glad, Sir John. There is something fine about Palladian houses.’

‘Yes, my dear,’ said Sir John. He stared at the house, then looked doubtfully at Kitty. ‘You’ve done well, Kitty.’

It was rare indeed that she was called Kitty at home. She melted with gratitude, and gave her father a shaky smile.