Page 82 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #1)

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Well, that’s nice for you. Is it one of your family?’ He had a large selection of brothers and sisters. ‘I’d love to meet them.’

‘No, it’s not—’ he began.

Someone inside moved, hurried across the cottage behind Axe’s back in what was almost a furtive scuttle. She only caught a glimpse, but she couldn’t mistake him. ‘Is that Mr Crooks?’ she said in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you knew him.’

Axe looked away, and then back, his gaze direct, though his cheeks were flushed. ‘He’s helping me to read,’ he said. ‘He gives me lessons.’

‘But I’d have done that,’ Alice said, disappointed. ‘I brought you books, didn’t I?’

Axe shuffled his feet. ‘He offered first,’ he muttered. ‘You’re both very kind.’

Alice realised he was embarrassed by the situation, and that it was up to her to end it. ‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go. Can’t leave Pharaoh standing – he’ll get chilled.’

She turned away. Axe started forward. ‘I’ll help you up,’ he said awkwardly.

‘No need,’ she said stiffly. She felt a little hurt.

But she couldn’t get up on her own, and the alternative was leading Pharaoh away until she found a gate or tree stump.

So she let him throw her up, and he stood holding the rein lightly, looking up at her with a frown of thought.

When she gathered the rein, he let go, but said, ‘I like your visits. Mr Crooks – well, he’s kind.

He’s helping me. But … I like your visits,’ he finished helplessly.

She couldn’t think of anything to say. She turned Pharaoh and rode away.

A message sent to Brown’s Hotel, where Mr Cowling liked to stay when he was in London, brought him to Draycott Place, looking very nervous and subdued.

Haydock admitted him, with a face as carefully wiped of expression as was possible in a butler, giving him no inkling of what his reception would be.

He was shown into the drawing-room, but had to wait only a few minutes – not even long enough to open the thoughtfully placed newspaper – before the door opened and Nina came in.

She was in a grey-blue dress that he thought suited her colouring perfectly and made her eyes look darker, and he wondered, not for the first time, at her beauty, and why the young men of London were so blind to it they let her get away.

He looked automatically at her shoes, and saw with approval they were Cowling & Kempson heeled kid lace-up ankle shoes, smart and practical.

He got his word in first. ‘I know you are a kind person, Miss Sanderton, so don’t keep me on tenterhooks. Tell me right away if it’s “no”.’

‘It isn’t “no”,’ she said.

He had been so expecting a rejection that he didn’t take it in for a second, and then an incredulous smile spread across his face. ‘Are you saying – you will marry me?’

She couldn’t help smiling too. ‘Yes, I will marry you. And thank you for asking me.’

‘Oh, no, no! Thank you ! You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.

’ He stepped forward and took both her hands, and she had to let him.

His were hard, the hands of a working man, but dry and smooth.

She was glad they were not damp and clammy, like those of some young men she had danced with during the Season.

Hard, dry hands that she would be living with for the rest of her life.

For a moment she misgave, and swallowed – but she had made her decision carefully, and, no, she didn’t repent of it.

It was still the rational thing to do, and the course that promised her the best chance of happiness.

‘I will do everything in my power to make you happy, I promise you,’ he said. ‘Anything you want, you just say the word. I mean it. Oh, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you!’ He was beaming at her, holding her at arms’ length. Then he said, ‘Can I – may I – kiss you?’

She nodded. He drew her to him by the hands, dipped his face, and kissed her on the lips – a dry, firm kiss, brief, unfrightening.

His breath smelt of peppermints. When it was done, he stepped back and beamed at her again, and said, ‘I had better go and talk to your aunt, hadn’t I? Do it all fair and square.’

‘She’s coming here to speak to you,’ Nina said.

‘Oh, right, then. And when do you want to tie the knot?’ he asked. ‘I should warn you,’ he added, with a smile, ‘I’m not in favour of long engagements.’

‘Nor I,’ she said. Now she had committed herself, she wanted to get it done. ‘I think we should get married quite soon – before Christmas.’

‘Aye, I should like to have Christmas with you. Mind you,’ a thought seemed to occur to him, ‘I don’t know what you’ll think about the house.

I have a housekeeper, Mrs Mitchell, she keeps it clean and aired, and it’s comfortable enough in a simple way, but I wouldn’t call it smart or fashionable.

But once we’re there, you can say what you want – new wallpaper, new furniture, anything you like.

Decius shall put it all in hand. He’ll get good people on the job.

An invaluable young man, Decius Blake. You should meet him as soon as possible. You’ll like him.’

Mawes greeted Nina was a smacking kiss on the cheek. ‘Congratulations!’

‘You know already?’ said Nina.

‘Cowling was here this morning – couldn’t wait to tell his good news.

He was as happy as a sandboy. Speaking of which, I’d like you in the studio when you’ve had your chat with the girls – just half an hour, to be a lady sculptor, if you wouldn’t mind.

’ He grinned. ‘These female suffragists are going to be jam for me, I can tell you – top-class strawberry! So many glorious situations!’

‘Probably not glorious to them,’ Nina said, ‘being bundled away by policemen.’

‘No, but there’s something irresistibly comic about a beefy, red-faced policeman having his helmet knocked askew by a little old lady in a bonnet. You must admit!’

‘You’re incorrigible,’ Nina said, and went on into the parlour.

Isabel was grave. ‘I suppose I must congratulate you.’

‘You don’t approve? I thought you liked him.’

‘I like him very much. But you’re so young, Nina dear. I can’t help fearing it’s too hasty, and that you’ll regret it in a year or two.’

‘Lots of girls get married at seventeen.’

‘Yes, they fall in love—’

‘And love never lasts. I’ve heard that so often from my aunt. Well, my head isn’t turned, my senses aren’t aflame, and my eyes aren’t dazzled, so surely I’ve a better chance of being happy than most.’

Isabel pressed her hand. ‘I shan’t say another word. I do wish you every happiness, and if there’s anything friendship can do to advance it, it shall be done.’

‘There is – come to my wedding, and dance with a light heart,’ said Nina. ‘Oh, and do you think Mawes would give me away? Because I’m awfully short of male relatives.’

Nina and Lepida walked off together to get the omnibus, on their way to University College where they hoped to receive a donation of books from the librarian. The Free Library had already secured the services of a book-binder, who would repair for a nominal fee damaged books that had been donated.

They walked in silence, but at the omnibus-stop, Nina turned to her companion and said, ‘Isn’t there anything you want to say to me? Not even “why”?’

Lepida scanned her face. ‘No. I understand why. I think Mama doesn’t realise that your aunt is – well, not able to keep supporting you. You don’t want to be a burden on her.’

‘But you think I should have been a teacher?’

‘No,’ Lepida said. ‘I never really believed in that. You’re the marrying sort, whether you ever thought it or not. You wouldn’t be happy with the spinsterish life of a school. And, truthfully, if someone like Mr Cowling came along for me, I’d do what you’re doing.’

‘I thought you were happy at home.’

‘Oh, I am. Mother and Daddy are hardly like parents, most of the time. We’re more like friends.

All the same, there are times when I would love my own house, my own establishment.

And the freedom. Married women can do things single women can’t.

You’ll find out. No, I don’t blame you at all.

And you’re sensible enough to make things work in your favour. I’m sure you’ll be happy. Just—’

‘Just?’

‘Don’t forget your old friends,’ Lepida said.

Nina smiled. ‘You’ll be the first to be invited to stay when I’m Mrs Cowling.’

‘Everything in the house will be covered with dust,’ Mrs Webster complained.

‘Well, you won’t have to clean it up,’ said Rose.

‘I’m responsible for the cleaning,’ Mrs Webster said shortly. ‘And the noise of hammering!’

News had reached them that her young ladyship wanted a connecting door between White Chinese and the dressing-room, and old Lady Stainton had managed somehow to get her ladyship to agree to it.

‘Then it’ll be sawing. And the smell of paint,’ Mrs Webster went on bitterly.

‘I’m sure it will all be worth while when it’s finished,’ said Moss emolliently. ‘Wouldn’t you say so, Mr Crooks? You were always a great advocate of the dressing-room.’

‘Why are you asking him?’ said James. ‘ He’ s not his lordship’s valet.’

Crooks ignored him. ‘A dressing-room is essential for fashionable living, but her ladyship ought to have one of her own. In a truly elegant suite, her ladyship’s dressing-room and closet would be on the other side of her room from his lordship’s.’

‘I think it’s a shame, all this knocking about of good rooms,’ Rose said. ‘Pulling the house to pieces. Then, as like as not, a few years down the line they’ll be wanting to put it all back the way it was.’

Moss turned graciously to the newcomer at the table, the lady’s maid who had been brought in to take care of the young countess. ‘What do you think, Miss Hatto? Is a dressing-room essential for an elegant lady?’