Page 50 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #1)

‘Of course not. Perhaps to sit at the back – we shall see – but not to be the supporter. He must find someone else. But do not think about that now. I have something to say to you. The young woman you sent to play the piano in my house, you were right. She is éclatante – gifted beyond the usual. I have sent a note to you to say that she shall practise chez moi whenever she likes. But I suppose you did not receive the note. What is this her name is?’

‘Miss Sands,’ he said, and groaned. ‘Oh, Lord, I was supposed to go to supper with them on Sunday! What will they think of me? Not to turn up, not even a message! They’ll think I’ve forgotten them.

’ Or, worse, he thought, they’d think him proud, believing himself too good for them.

He couldn’t bear the idea that Mrs Sands should be hurt.

‘I will send them a note,’ Grandmère said, ‘explaining all.’

‘Thank you,’ he said profoundly. ‘Tell them I’m sorry. Tell them I’ll come and see them as soon as I’m able. When do you think that will be? Can I get up today? I don’t have to stay here, do I?’

How much this Miss Sands means to him , Grandmère thought.

I believe he is in love and does not know it .

‘You must stay in bed until the doctor has seen you. Then, if he says you can be moved, we will arrange to take you back to Berkeley Square. We must not impose on the Thatchers any longer than necessary.’

‘The Thatchers?’ he said vaguely.

‘The kind family who took you in.’

‘Oh, yes. I must thank them. Can you send the note to Mrs Sands right away, today? I don’t want them thinking badly of me.’

James, passing the door of the housekeeper’s room, paused as Crooks hurried out past him muttering, then leaned in the doorway to ask, ‘What’s up with old Crooky? Nearly in tears, wasn’t he?’

Mrs Webster’s lips were pressed together.

She wasn’t afraid of James – she wasn’t afraid of anyone – but she was wary.

She was a woman who liked to control everything in her immediate environment, and James always gave the impression that he danced to a different piper.

He had a ready tongue, so it was hard to get the better of him, but he was good at his job and Upstairs valued him.

‘Must be something serious,’ he went on. ‘I can see it’s upset you.’

Mrs Webster turned away, picked up a sheaf of bills from her desk.

James watched her insistently, like a cat at a mouse-hole. ‘Go on, you can tell me. Someone touched some of his things? I bet that was it. I know how he dotes on his brushes and stuff. Move ’em an inch and you could drive him out of his mind. What there is of it.’

She had to take him up on that. ‘Mr Crooks is a senior servant. You show him some respect.’

‘Respect? He’s a soggy mess. Go on, what is it this time? Maybe I can help.’

She relented a fraction. ‘His lordship’s lapis cufflinks have gone missing.’

‘Stolen? Old Crooky wouldn’t steal ’em!’

‘Don’t say that word! Of course not stolen – mislaid somewhere, but naturally he’s very upset.’

‘I’ll tell you what, he’s starting to fall apart,’ James said thoughtfully. ‘His lordship won’t put up with it for long. I’ll have a look for ’em – I’m good at finding things.’

‘All right,’ said Mrs Webster, reluctantly. ‘But keep your mouth shut. I won’t have trouble in my house.’

She was privately worried. Jewellery going missing was always a matter of concern, and something that ultimately you couldn’t keep from Upstairs.

Secretly, she thought Crooks was a tiresome old woman, but she was positive he was honest. An accusation of theft would just about kill him, but failure to resolve the matter would sow suspicion among all of them.

She was deeply grateful, therefore, when James returned half an hour later and dropped the links into her hand. ‘Where did you find them?’

‘On the floor in the laundry, beside the shirt basket. He must have had ’em in his hand when he brought the shirt down, and dropped ’em.

’ He gave her a straight stare. ‘Like I said, he’s falling apart.

Ask me, it’s worry about this honeymoon trip.

He doesn’t want to go, but he doesn’t want to ask his lordship to let him off.

’ He shrugged. ‘Natural enough. He’d be scared to lose his job if he did. ’

Mrs Webster didn’t comment. ‘I’ll see he gets these back,’ she said, and only added, ‘Thank you,’ because she felt forced to. The whole thing was a minefield.

Richard had been eager to be moved, but when he discovered how painful it was, he understood why they were taking him to Berkeley Square and not all the way to Ashmore.

He had not known how much broken bones hurt.

The move, which had to be done slowly, took most of the day, and knocked him back severely.

He was in such agony that Aunt Caroline’s doctor, Dangerfield, prescribed morphine, and he lay comatose for several days, drifting in and out of unpleasant dreams, waking to cloudy thoughts, sweat, debilitation, and always the return of pain.

Dangerfield, examining his various injuries, said that it was not merely a sprained foot but small bones were broken, and he set it in plaster.

There was not much to be done about a broken shoulder, he said, except to keep it immobile; and among Richard’s many injuries were a bruised spine, which accounted for the pain whenever he tried to turn over.

There were many weeks of recovery ahead of him: going to the wedding was out of the question.

When he had gone, Richard wept a little from sheer weakness. He had never felt so helpless.

Giles visited. He came in evening dress and with wine on his breath, having just been in Berkeley Street for the return visit to the Bayfields.

‘Was it hell?’ Richard asked feebly.

‘Not as bad as I feared,’ said Giles. ‘Aunt Caroline had paid a visit of congratulation, so they asked her as well. She can always talk.’

‘Why did she do that?’

‘It seems she went to school with Miss Sanderton’s aunt, so I suppose she felt a connection,’ Giles said, trying to hide his discomfort at having to mention Nina.

‘Ah, yes, Miss Sanderton,’ Richard said. ‘Was she there?’

‘Yes,’ said Giles. Then he realised he had been too abrupt, and with an effort, said, ‘She and Aunt Caroline kept things going.’ He hoped Richard would not ask anything more about her.

Richard was too weak still to sustain much curiosity. He lapsed into silence for a while, then roused himself to say, ‘This accident of mine, the sawbones says I won’t be able to make the wedding.’ He looked up apologetically at his brother.

‘I know,’ said Giles. ‘It’s already been discussed. Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry you won’t be there, but it can’t be helped.’

‘But who—?’

‘Will be my supporter? Well, I asked Uncle Sebastian, but he said he was too old and that he’d spoil the effect for everyone. Said they’d think the organ needed repairing if they heard him wheezing. You know how he talks.’ Richard smiled. ‘He suggested Uncle Stuffy.’

‘Uncle Stuffy?’ Richard said in surprise.

Their uncle Fergus, the Earl of Leake, their mother’s brother, had acquired the nickname Stuffy at school because of his love of eating, and it had stuck, in an affectionate way.

He was much younger than their mother, a bachelor dedicated to middle-aged pleasures that made him seem older. ‘Would he do it?’

‘Mama thought he would, so I sent off a telegram. It took a while to find him – you know how he moves from house to house at this time of year – but he telegraphed back that he’d be delighted.

I must say,’ Giles added, ‘that she was really pleased I was asking him. It‘s put her in a better mood than I’ve seen since Papa died. So I didn’t tell her it was Uncle Sebastian’s idea. ’

‘Well,’ said Richard, feebly, ‘I’m glad it’s all sorted out.’

‘You’re tired. I’ll go,’ said Giles.

‘Come again soon,’ Richard said. ‘I’m infernally bored tied to this bed.’ It was only partly true. He was too weak and still slept too much to be often bored.

‘I will,’ said Giles.

Aunt Caroline’s solicitor, Camberwell, called.

‘I’m afraid the matter is serious,’ he said.

‘Your companions will only be charged with unruly behaviour, but things are much worse for you as the driver. Criminal law is not my field, so I have consulted a criminal barrister, on Lady Manningtree’s instructions.

He says there is not much point in trying to devise a strategy until we know when your case will come on, and before which magistrate. ’

‘Strategy?’

‘The penalties for reckless driving range from fines to imprisonment. And magistrates have considerable discretion. Some are particularly harsh when it comes to motoring offences – the older sort who think motor-cars are the invention of the devil. Others take a lighter view. A more lenient magistrate might decide that as no-one else was hurt, and you have already suffered considerably, no further punishment is needed. He might let you off with a caution.’

‘Can’t we get one of those?’ Richard begged.

‘I’m afraid it isn’t up to us. I wish it were.’

Linda visited. ‘You really are a fool, Richard. What a mess you’ve got us into! I had to come back from the Isle of Wight—’

‘You were coming back for the wedding anyway,’ he protested.

‘Yes, but I had to come back early because of worries about you.’

‘You don’t seem worried.’

‘I’m more angry about the court case than anything. Dragging our name into the mud, just when things are at such a delicate stage for Giles!’

‘It might not come to anything,’ Richard said. ‘If the beak thinks I’ve suffered enough—’