Page 83 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #1)

Miss Hatto was a youngish woman, neat as a pin, pleasant in face and manner, although she hardly ever spoke.

But where Miss Taylor’s silences were taciturn in origin, Miss Hatto’s seemed to stem from a curious kind of completeness.

Mrs Webster found her intriguing. You couldn’t imagine her ever making a noise, or gossiping, or laughing at a joke, but she did not come across as prudish.

It was as if Miss Hatto said the last word there was to say about Hatto-ness, and that was that.

William, whose fixation on Milly had been waning, had already transferred his mute, doglike devotion to her.

‘It is a great convenience,’ she said now. ‘Though historic houses should be respected.’

Rose rolled her eyes at Mrs Webster, who returned a minute shrug. In her view, the fewer people who were contentious, the easier it made her job.

Moss had picked up the word ‘historic’. Are you interested in history, Miss Hatto?

I have a wonderful book called The A to Z of Universal Knowledge , a great instrument for expanding the mind.

I learn something new every day. It has many entries on history.

I’m reading about the history of India at the moment. ’

‘You’ve been reading about India since last Christmas,’ Mrs Webster muttered.

Moss didn’t hear. ‘The Indian Mutiny, for instance, most interesting. The Indian soldiers, who were called Sepias in their own language—’

‘Sepoys,’ Mrs Webster corrected irritably.

‘—objected to biting their rifle cartridges because they were greased with pork fat—’

‘Cow fat! Have you never heard the expression “sacred cow”, Mr Moss? Where do you think it came from?’

Grandmère’s maid Simone, who had been moved a place down the table by Miss Hatto, whose mistress outranked her own, lifted her hands in a very French gesture of exasperation. ‘This is a madhouse! It is true, all English are mad. Thank God my lady is going back to Town tomorrow.’

‘I’d be happy to let you look at my book some time, Miss Hatto,’ Moss rumbled on, undeflectable. ‘There is an interesting piece on architecture, as you seem interested in that subject. Of course, I have progressed far beyond the As myself.’

‘You are learning alphabetically?’ Miss Hatto asked. Mrs Webster’s interest quickened. Was there a hint of satire in the question?

‘The information is arranged alphabetically,’ Moss explained kindly. ‘That is why it is called The A to Z of Universal Knowledge .’

Giles was surprised to see his grandmother in the stable-yard. He hurried towards her, fearing for her shoes, pale grey glacé kid. ‘What are you doing here? You’ll get yourself dirty!’

She waved him back, concentrating on the ground.

‘Do not fuss. Do you think I have never seen a stable before?’ One of the grooms rushed forward with an empty sack to spread, Raleigh-like, before her feet.

She gave him a smile that he remembered for the rest of his life and stepped upon it.

‘I have come to see the new horse, Giles. You may bring it closer. A gelding, I see. Good. I do not agree with that nonsense that women must always ride mares. Geldings are more reliable, less temperamental. I always had geldings.’

‘I don’t think I ever knew you to ride, Grandmère,’ Giles said.

‘You have only known me in London, where one cannot ride,’ she said, as if it was obvious. ‘But I was the lady of Ashmore Castle once. Was I not, Giddins? He was a very young stable boy when my poor Compass Rose broke his leg and had to be shot. How you cried!’

‘Yes, my lady. I remember it well,’ said Giddins, thrilled that she remembered him. Giles observed his expression and thought That is how she makes the servants her slaves. It’s all done with love .

‘Walk him up and down,’ she commanded, and Giddins obeyed. It was a fifteen-two chestnut with one white sock and a small white star.

‘He belonged to Lady Bexley at the Grange,’ Giles said, ‘but she’s giving up riding, so Giddins thought he might do for Kitty.’

‘ Why is she giving up riding?’ Grandmère demanded.

Giddins and Archer exchanged an embarrassed look.

Lady Bexley had got so fat recently that she found it impossible to mount, and the gelding wasn’t up to her weight, but they could hardly say that to the gentry-folk.

‘Couldn’t say, my lady,’ Giddins said, and then, to distract her.

‘What would your ladyship’s opinion be of the colour?

Archer and me thought it a bit flashy, like. ’

‘A good horse is never a bad colour,’ said her ladyship, sternly. ‘How does he go? That is the point.’

‘Young Miss Eveline showed him for us at the Grange, my lady, and he went very nicely indeed, carries his head well and doesn’t pull.’

Archer said, ‘I had a quick little go of him bareback, my lady, after Miss Eveline had done, and he seemed quite light in hand, but of course you can’t tell what a horse is like sidesaddle when you ride him across.’

‘I wish I could try him for you,’ her ladyship said wistfully. ‘Seeing him makes me wish my riding days were not done.’

‘I’m sure if—’ Giddins began eagerly.

‘Thank you, Giddins,’ Giles interrupted, before he could offer to take her out. At her age!

Grandmère gave him a level look, divining his thoughts.

But she said, ‘Bring him to me again, Giddins.’ She stripped off her glove and caressed the horse about the head and neck, seeing that he was comfortable with hands, and friendly.

Obviously he had never been roughly treated.

Giddins sidled up to her and shyly offered her some horse-nuts from his pocket, which she accepted to give to the animal.

He snaffled them up gently, and she was satisfied.

‘I think he will do very well,’ she said. ‘What does Kitty think?’

‘She hasn’t seen him yet. He was to be a surprise for her.’

‘Then I hope she likes him.’

‘It’s her wedding gift from me,’ Giles said. Grandmère raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know what to get for her,’ he excused himself. ‘People seemed mostly to think it should be jewellery, but Mama told me she would have liked a dog, only Papa bought her paintings.’

‘Ah, those Corots!’ Grandmère sighed. ‘Not his best work. Very well, a horse is a more thoughtful gift, if that’s what she will like.’

‘I think she will. She loves horses. They’re …’ He hesitated, then went on. ‘She’s never been afraid of them, the way she is of people.’

Grandmère nodded. She stroked the chestnut’s muzzle, and he half closed his eyes. ‘What is his name?’ she asked Giddins.

‘Apollo, my lady.’

‘Well, that is very nice. Eh bien , Giles, give me your arm as far as the house. Thank you, Giddins.’

When they were away from any ears, he said, ‘Did you really come to the stable-yard to see the horse?’

‘Why should you doubt? I like horses. When Simone said Moss had told her it had come, I said, “I must see for myself, because I go home tomorrow, so I shall not have another chance.”’

‘Hmm,’ said Giles. ‘So there wasn’t anything you wanted to say to me in private?’

‘I think I should like a turn on the terrace,’ she said. ‘Oblige me by walking with me.’

She would never be hurried. He fitted his steps to hers, and waited.

Her hand was feather-light on his arm. She walked him up to the stone balustrade, below which the ground fell away towards the valley bottom, with the view over the Ash.

Ashmore Carr was along to the left, and the village of Canons Ashmore nestling in its fold was straight ahead, the spire of St Peter’s poking up through the golden trees.

She sighed. ‘Sometimes I miss it – the Castle. The place. The long view. In Town, there are no horizons.’

‘You could come back,’ he said.

‘And live here?’ She gave him an amused look. ‘You wish to compound your problems even more? Besides, Maud and I could never live under one roof. But you are a good boy for suggesting it. I wish I had got to know you better, Giles, but you were never here. Always running away.’

‘I didn’t—’

‘You did. But you cannot run away from yourself, because yourself is always waiting at the other end. And there is one thing that will bring you back, however far you run – reel you in like a fish on a line.’

‘The place?’ he suggested, amused by her philosophising.

‘Duty,’ she said. ‘Ah, you laugh inside. Foolish old woman, you think. I see it in your eyes. But there is always one in every family on whom duty alights, like the wicked fairy with the unwanted gift. Don’t fight against it, Giles, mon cher , or you will be miserable.

And now you had better go and find Kitty and show her her horse, before someone else tells her about it and she wonders why she is the last to know.

Poor Giles,’ she said, as they turned and walked towards the house, ‘you really don’t know much about women, do you? ’

‘I’ve never had to,’ he said, a little stung.

‘ ?a se voit . But it is never too late to learn,’ she said blithely.