Page 72 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #1)

‘Dear Nina, you talk as though it’s on the other side of the world!

It’s only about four hours away by train – and, as I said, it’s a pleasant city.

There are theatres and an assembly hall with regular concerts, several libraries, and some fine shops, I believe, though of course they can’t compare with London.

Now, you would share a bedroom with the other junior mistress, and all meals are provided, so although the salary is small, you would have no expenses but your clothes. ’

Nina stroked the cat but said nothing. The loud purring was the only sound in the room.

‘Well?’ said Miss Thornton. She raised an eyebrow.

‘Did you expect to step straight into the perfect position? In every profession you have to work your way up. You will learn a lot at Allely’s, and those girls you can help, in the way that I hope I’ve helped you, will give you the satisfaction and sense of achievement I think you crave. ’

Nina roused herself. ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right. And thank you. I truly am grateful. When would I have to start?’

‘When the new year begins, in January. In the normal way Miss Allely would want to interview you to see if you are suitable, but she knows something of my school and my girls, and she is happy to trust my judgement, so you need only say yes.’

Now that it was actually going to happen, Nina was realising with dismay that she really did not want to be a teacher.

But what choice did she have? And Miss Thornton had gone to considerable trouble for her, and had recommended her.

She could not let her down. ‘Yes,’ she said, trying to sound pleased. ‘And thank you again.’

‘Very well,’ said Miss Thornton, still watching her. ‘I’ll write to Miss Allely – and, no doubt, she will write to you with further details. And now, my Nina, tell me what you’ve been doing. Have you been keeping up with your studies, or has it been all dancing?’

‘Dancing?’ Nina gave a short laugh. ‘Not since Kitty’s wedding. But I’ve been going to some interesting classes.’

She told her about the British Museum lectures and the summer courses she had been attending with Lepida, and her tone grew animated, and her face flushed with pleasure.

Canons Ashmore station again. Kitty noticed the details of it sharply, thinking that from now on it would be ‘her’ station, as Hampstead station had been for most of her life.

The wooden roof with its decoratively carved canopy, the cherry tree, its leaves rusty now with the onset of autumn, the white-painted picket fence …

Outside, the carriage awaited, with the lovely greys.

This time the liveried groom bowed to her and murmured, ‘My lady,’ as he offered his white-gloved hand to help her in.

My lady , she thought. I’m the Countess of Stainton .

Somehow it hadn’t been real when they were abroad – it hadn’t counted.

Now, here in the actual place, it came home to her.

She had felt different ever since that dreadful day when she had shouted at Giles, breaking through the barriers of a lifetime.

She never would have thought she could talk to anyone like that, least of all to the man she loved with a consuming passion.

But there had been an extraordinary release in it – terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

Then afterwards … Well, the details had become hazy now, and she didn’t really remember why she had swum out into the sea.

She only remembered how frightened she had been, how she had thought she was going to die, and how Giles had come fighting his way through the waves to save her.

The two things were mixed up in her memory.

She did not think it in words, but there was a feeling in the back of her mind that he would not have tried to save her if there hadn’t been the quarrel before.

The Kitty he had saved was a different Kitty.

She had done something – she to whom, before, things had always been done.

She felt different inside, stronger, more herself .

She had come once before to the Castle, trembling with apprehension, afraid of everyone and everything, hoping only to escape notice.

Not to be seen, not to offend, not to be told off – that had been her highest ambition.

Now she looked around with interest as the carriage bowled through the pretty village and then up the green hill.

She remembered the shabbiness and the air of neglect and believed she could make a difference to the Castle.

I’ll make it a home for him , she thought.

And there would be good works to do on the estate and in the village.

People would come to love and respect her.

They would bring their troubles to her and she would help them. She would matter.

Giles was looking out of the window on his side, his face turned away from her.

What was he thinking? What did men think?

To her he was as beautiful and exotic as a tiger – and as unpredictable.

But she had made her stand, staked her claim.

‘I am your wife,’ she had said, and he had accepted it.

Whatever happened in the future, that would not change.

For the first time in her life, she looked forward to what was to come – still afraid, yes, but feeling she had something inside her that could face up to the difficulties and allow her to enjoy the good parts.

The servants were lined up on the steps as they arrived – in the same deer-trap formation as if, Giles thought again as he climbed out, he might try to make a run for it.

The house looked so big, compared with the places they had been staying; it, and all the staff, and the estate made a burden he had to shoulder.

The holiday was over: his work began. And now there was this small female beside him – his wife – whose happiness and welfare depended uniquely on him.

He sighed, and looked up for a moment at the indifferent sky, before walking submissively in.

*

‘Kitty’s maid left us in Paris,’ Giles told his mother.

Lady Stainton looked at Kitty as though wanting to ask, ‘What did you do to drive her away?’

‘My mother only took her on for the Season,’ Kitty found the courage to say. Lady Stainton was undoubtedly the biggest of all hurdles to cross. ‘I thought when she agreed to come away with us—’

‘We thought she was permanent,’ Giles took over for her. ‘But evidently she thought differently.’

‘Rose had better attend her for the moment,’ said Lady Stainton. ‘Rose is quite accustomed to attending female visitors who don’t bring their own maid.’

Giles thought this sounded slightly disparaging, but it was not the moment to probe his mother’s attitudes.

He was glad there were others present to dilute the company – Linda and Cordwell, Uncle Sebastian, Aunt Caroline and Grandmère.

And Richard, ready to defuse any situation with wit and jokes.

The girls, hanging back as usual, seemed pleased to see him, and gazed at Kitty as if they longed to carry her away with them to the nursery.

And the dogs, who came to overwhelm him with passionate adoration: swinging tails, butting heads, yards of tongue. ‘What have you been doing to them?’ he asked facetiously. ‘Beating and starving them?’

‘We’ve tried to be nice to them,’ Alice said, ‘but they’d decided you were their new master and no-one else would do.’

Giles’s things had been put into the Blue Bedroom. He had managed up until his wedding to resist being installed in the Queen’s Bedroom, and had half suspected his mother would have ordered the change in his absence, but evidently she’d had other things on her mind.

Kitty had been put in the Tapestry Room.

It was one of the grand rooms on the first floor, and Giles had never used it, or he might have made a protest on Kitty’s behalf.

Conducted to it by Rose, she looked around with misgiving.

As its name suggested, it had walls lined with a series of ancient tapestries depicting the chase.

All the colours but blue and green had been leached out of them over time, and the effect was consequently gloomy.

There were heavy blue drapes at the window and over the massive bed; ancient black oak furniture, and dark oil paintings mostly featuring the results of hunting – limp birds, bloodied hares, dead salmon.

The one opposite the foot of the bed depicted a stag, brought to its knees, rolling its eyes up in despair as the hounds tore out its throat.

Rose, standing behind her temporary mistress, wondered what sort of person would paint such a thing, let alone hang it in a bedroom to be the first thing you saw when you woke up.

She also knew, from the servants of visitors who had slept there, that the mattress was the worst in the house.

It was the largest room, after the Queen’s Bedroom, which might be assumed to be the reason the dowager had assigned it to the new countess. Rose wondered, however.

‘It’s – rather sombre,’ Kitty said.

‘Yes, my lady,’ said Rose. She was taller than her ladyship by several inches and felt suddenly rather protective towards her. ‘There are other rooms.’

‘You mean, I could change?’ Kitty said doubtfully. Rose only gave her a sturdy look that said You can do anything you like . Kitty gulped. ‘Perhaps I’ll have a look tomorrow. I don’t want to make a fuss now, when I’ve only just arrived.’

‘No, my lady,’ said Rose. If she was going to pitch her will against the dowager’s either there would be a battle royal, or instant capitulation and tears.

Not having any means to judge the new countess’s mettle, Rose didn’t know which.

Personally, she wouldn’t sleep in this room for a pension.

‘The White Chinese Room is nice, though not as big as this.’