Page 75 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #1)

She led Daystar into the barn, where Victor’s bicycle was leaning against the wall.

There was an old ring and a bit of rope, and when she had tied Daystar and loosened his girths, she was free to turn her attention to Victor.

The first thing was kissing. It was a new discovery for her – they had only done it for the first time at their previous meeting a week ago – and it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.

They stood for ages, mouths pressed together, while Daystar fidgeted about, scraped the ground with a hoof, sneezed, shook himself, making various bits of harness jingle.

When they finally stopped for breath, Victor said, ‘I brought a rug to sit on,’ and took her out through the back of the barn to where someone had assembled a heap of stones at one time, perhaps meaning to effect repairs.

He had rearranged them a little, and spread the rug over the pile, so that it was like a sort of sofa, with an unbroken bit of barn wall behind it for a back.

They sat, and Victor took possession of her hand. ‘You got away all right, then?’

‘Yes, all right,’ she said. ‘I had to hang around a bit. That horrid James was outside, lurking about. I had to wait until he went in.’

‘James?’

‘He was first footman, now he’s my brother’s valet.’

‘Does he suspect?’ Victor loved excitement. He half longed for conspiracy.

‘I don’t think so. He’s not interested in Alice and me. I think he was having a smoke – or maybe waiting for someone. I don’t like him, though.’ She shivered. ‘He has horrible eyes. He always looks at you as if – as if he knows what you’re wearing underneath.’

‘I’ll knock his head off!’ Victor said indignantly. ‘I thought you said he wasn’t interested in you.’

‘I don’t mean he looks like that at me , but I’ve seen him look at the maids. And Daisy – she’s our maid – she says he tried to put his hand on … on her chest once.’

‘If he ever tries to touch you, you tell me, and I’ll see he suffers,’ Victor said fiercely.

She loved Victor’s protectiveness. ‘What would you do to him?’ she asked.

‘I’d knock his block off. I’d kick him all the way to Aylesbury.’

‘Oh Victor,’ she breathed. ‘Would you really?’

They talked in this vein for a while. Then Victor wanted to know every detail of how she had got away, and wanted to tell her every detail of his journey. And they kissed a little more. Eventually, as he always did, he got around to ‘I wish we could meet openly. I’d love to come calling for you.’

She liked this game. ‘What would you bring?’

‘I’d bring flowers. Roses, as a pledge of my love.’

‘There aren’t many roses at this time of year,’ Rachel said.

He sometimes thought she was too literal. ‘I’d find them somehow – for you .’

‘As long as it wasn’t chrysanthemums. I hate the smell of them,’ said Rachel. ‘And what would you wear? Your blue necktie, because it brings out the colour of your eyes?’

‘Whatever you want me to wear. I’d come up to the Castle, and you’d be waiting for me, and we’d declare our love for each other in front of everyone, without disguise.’

‘I expect Giles would be all right about it,’ Rachel said, ‘now he’s married himself. But Mama would be sure to say I’m too young.’

‘You’re never too young to be in love.’

‘Mama’s too old to remember what love is like. She’d never let me see you.’

‘We should run away. We’d go to Scotland and get married there.’

‘But I don’t think I’d like that,’ Rachel said uneasily. She wanted a proper wedding, with everyone there, a beautiful dress, and bridesmaids, and a carriage decorated with ribbons and flowers. ‘Have you found out any more about why Mama doesn’t like your aunt?’

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I can’t exactly ask her straight out. I’ve hinted about it, but she just closes her lips tight and changes the subject. But I think it’s about something that happened a long time ago – that’s all I can fathom.’

Rachel sighed. ‘So there’s nothing we can do.’

‘Let’s not talk about it any more,’ he said. ‘Let’s just talk about Us.’

They talked about the first time they had seen each other, and what each thought about the other, and such lovery subjects that never failed to enthral. And in between there was more kissing. Time passed effortlessly, until Daystar began kicking the barn wall in impatience, and it was time to part.

As they went upstairs at the end of the evening, Giles said to Kitty, ‘You looked very pretty tonight. Have I seen that dress before?’

‘It was one I bought in Florence. Lucia helped me choose it.’

‘She has a good eye. I like that colour on you. What do you call it? Blue?’

‘Lavender,’ Kitty said. His words and his look gave her a warm feeling inside.

The dinner party that evening had been tedious.

It was one of a series Lady Stainton was giving to introduce Kitty to the neighbourhood, but her part in any of them had been minimal.

Her mother-in-law had made all the arrangements, chosen the guests, and conducted the evening, like a general directing a battle.

Giles was all right, because he knew nearly all of these people – or, at least, knew who they were, having had them in his background since birth.

And it was always easier for men to talk to each other – they had politics and sport to resort to.

There had been talk of shooting parties to come, and the beginning of hunting.

‘Will you hunt this year, Stainton?’ they had all wanted to know.

And then it was horses and dogs and guns, description and comparison of, the recounting of hunts and shoots past, and beloved horses and dogs fondly remembered.

Even though – and she had watched him so she knew – Giles tended not to talk very much, even on these subjects, he had listened with apparent interest and passed a tolerable evening.

For Kitty, there was always the catechism – who was she, where did she come from, who were her people – and when the answers were found unsatisfactory, as they always were, the conversation turned to people she didn’t know, and children, and ailments.

She was not confident enough to start or to lead a conversation: if she was asked a question, she could answer, but that was the end of it.

It was no better when the divided company rejoined in the drawing-room.

The two sides went on talking about their own subjects, and there was little cross-fertilisation.

Richard had gone back to London, so his help and support were not available, and the Cordwells had gone back to Dorset – though Kitty had been almost as afraid of Linda as of her mother, she would at least have distracted attention from her.

Uncle Sebastian was kind, and sometimes tried to draw her in, but he tended to fall asleep after dinner.

And the dinners – oh, the dinners! The food, which she had noticed on her first visit to the Castle was poor, did not get any better.

She could eat little of it, and noticed that the guests divided into those who would put almost anything into their mouths, and those who skirted round it with an air of resignation.

Evidently no-one expected tasty food at the Castle.

She remembered the meals in Italy, the simple but luscious tastes.

She didn’t understand why a large estate should not be able to produce good-quality meat, and fruit and vegetables in season.

Even in Hampstead they had had a succession house, though it was small.

At Ashmore, surely they had room for acres of glass.

It was one of the many things she meant to bring up with Giles, when there was time – at the moment, he was occupied with urgent estate business that kept him locked in the library day after day.

But had not the money she had brought to the marriage solved his problems?

And could there not now be some of the improvements she had dreamed of?

As soon as she could get him to herself, she would raise the subject. Just now, however, they had arrived at the door of her bedroom. ‘Goodnight, my dear,’ he said, and gave her a peck on the cheek.

She looked at him longingly. Dared she ask if he would visit her?

She put all her yearning into her look, and it seemed to get through to him.

Meeting her eyes, he laid a hand on her arm.

The feeling of his hot palm against her bare skin made her shiver with desire, and she saw that it had communicated itself to him.

His breath was warm and sweet on her cheek as he whispered, ‘May I come to you? In fifteen minutes, then.’

In her room, Rose got up sleepily from the chair, and came to help her with buttons and hooks.

Kitty was in a frenzy to be ready in time – if he came in while Rose was still there, he might go away again!

She wanted to cry, Hurry up, hurry up! but restrained herself.

Perhaps Rose felt it anyway, because she quickened her fingers, and did not waste time with conversation.

She left Kitty sitting up in bed with a ‘Goodnight, my lady,’ and as soon as she had gone, Kitty struggled out of the nightdress and lay down, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

There was a soft sound at the door, and Giles came in, in his dressing-gown.

He hurried across the room, threw it off, and she had one glorious glimpse of his naked body before he jumped into bed beside her.

Her arms went up around his neck, and she felt him shudder with passion.

They sank into each other with a sigh of relief.

There was no time for conversation. If only, she thought, before thought was obliterated, we could always be in bed …

In the morning, he kissed her goodbye, and as he climbed out of bed he said, ‘What happened to the idea of the communicating door?’

‘Your mother said no,’ she told him sleepily.

*

‘Giles, may I speak to you for a moment?’