Page 138 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘Immortal memory of what?’

‘Of Lord Nelson and those who fell with him, of course.’

‘Ah! It all sounds very . . .’ she wasn’t sure how to put it. It sounded like something from a gentlemen’s club, or a university dining hall ‘. . . interesting,’ she concluded. ‘But there aren’t any women in the navy. How can I be invited?’

‘This is a special Trafalgar dinner, and it’s not being held in a mess. There’ll be all sorts of dignitaries and their wives. It was hoped the King might come, but he’s got engagements in London. I expect he’ll send someone to represent him.’

* * *

HMS Victory had been rotting at her moorings for years, and in 1903 she had been accidentally rammed by HMS Neptune, and only by the skin of her teeth had been prevented from sinking. Emergency repairs had been carried out, but she was too frail to accommodate a centenary celebration. The best that could be done was to dress her overall, not just with flags but with electric light globes, which were powered from a submarine moored alongside.

The special dinner was held in Portsmouth’s grandest hotel, with the Princess Royal and the Duke of Fife representing the King. There were two long tables, joined at the top by a short one at which the princess and her husband were seated along with the chair and vice chair, the port admiral, the mayor of Portsmouth and various other ‘high-ups’, as Mr Cowling called them. Nina and Mr Cowling were seated quite far down one of the long tables. The menu was extensive, beginning with oysters, then consommé, fillets of sole Grand Duc, braised sweetbreads Demidoff, and pheasant à la Reine. Then came the roast beef of Old England, with the promised parade and, since suitable wines had been served with each course, considerable noise and jollity. After that came the sweet and the savoury – omelette surprise and barquettes de foie gras, then dessert, speeches and toasts.

Nina, with Mr Cowling opposite her on the other side of the table, had on her left a young captain who was just back from Malta and was happy to tell her everything she wanted to know about the island’s history and culture. On her right was a Portsmouth man of the law who had plenty to say about starting a campaign to save HMS Victory ‘since the Admiralty clearly won’t’.

‘It would be a scandal if our most famous ship were allowed to perish,’ he said.

The captain leaned forward to agree. ‘And foolish, too. If the old girl was put into good enough shape to allow visitors, she’d make enough money from entry fees to pay for her keep. Back in the eighteen forties she was attracting over twenty thousand visitors a year.’

‘That’s an interesting idea,’ the lawman said. ‘It would be good for the rest of Portsmouth, too, bringing people to the city, to stay at hotels and eat in restaurants, hire cabs and boats and so on.’

Nina looked at her husband and saw that he had overheard the exchange and was bursting to join in with the discussion, had etiquette not forbidden speaking across the table. More people spending money was an ideal close to his heart.

It was a late evening, and with so much food, drink, talk and noise, Nina felt very sleepy when she and Mr Cowling finally left. They stepped out under the hotel’s canopy to have a cab summoned to take them back to their own hotel. The streets were shiny and wet. It was not very cold, but a blustery wind was blowing a light rain in from the sea. The air smelt wonderfully fresh after the banqueting room, and slightly salty; the strings of electric lights the hotel had put up for the celebration rocked alarmingly overhead.

‘Did you have a nice time?’ Mr Cowling asked, when they were seated in the cab.

‘Very nice,’ she said.

‘You had a couple of interesting people to talk to,’ he suggested.

‘I did. Didn’t you?’

He didn’t answer that. ‘The young fellow on your left,’ he said. ‘He had a lot to say for himself. Seemed to be very taken with you, too.’

‘Taken with me?’

‘Hogging your attention. Leaning towards you. I was afraid he was going to end up in your lap if he got any closer.’

He was jealous, she realised with surprise. ‘I spoke to the man on my right too,’ she said. ‘When we turned.’

‘Aye, but then blow me if the young whippersnapper didn’t lean right forward and poke himself into that conversation as well.’

‘It was about saving the Victory. I saw you were interested.’

‘Interested in why he couldn’t leave you alone for long enough to attend to the lady on his other side.’

‘Ah, here we are at the hotel,’ she said, hoping to break the chain. ‘It isn’t far, is it? I’m so sleepy, I’m more than ready for bed.’

He said nothing more, but got out to help her down. The hotel porter had emerged to open the cab door and hold an umbrella over Nina, but as she stepped onto the pavement, a strong gust of wind snatched it inside-out, and the rain hit her face as the porter wrestled with it. At the same moment, a small dog scuttled out from the alley at the side of the hotel and ran past her across the road. A dray with a tarpaulin-covered load was passing the stationary cab at a smart pace. Nina, who had closed her eyes momentarily against the fine blowing rain, heard the dog’s shrill scream, cut off short, a shout from the dray’s driver, and the snorting of the horses.

Her eyes flew open. She was on the move before Mr Cowling could catch her arm to hold her back. ‘No, Nina!’ he called.

The dog was lying on its side in the road. Other people were hurrying across, but Nina got there first. She heard voices, heard the dray driver’s protest, felt the nervous movement of the two big horses, was aware of their steaming bulk and the smell of manure and chaff and the scrape of their iron-clad feet on the road. The dog was panting shallowly, its eyes staring straight ahead. She couldn’t see any damage on it, and was bracing herself to touch it when it gave an oof of expelled breath, and was still.

Mr Cowling reached her, and pulled her to her feet. ‘Your gown! The wet road!’ he protested. ‘Come away, there’s nothing you can do.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s gone. Poor thing.’ She heard her own voice, and it sounded quite calm. It seemed to reassure Mr Cowling, who led her back to the hotel.