Page 142 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘Is there any hope that I shall see you again, Miss Tallant?’ he said. ‘We are in Town for some weeks – a sister of mine being prepared to be brought out, no end of parties. Or you are from Buckinghamshire, I believe? Do you hunt?’

She smiled. ‘It’s strange you should ask that. My family is giving house parties for the hunting all next month, and I was thinking of going home for them.’ Aunt Caroline had urged her to go and have fun – it was only an hour away on the train, after all – and she was longing to go out on her darling Pharaoh.

‘Not such a very great coincidence,’ he admitted. ‘Ashridge Park is near you, I believe.’

‘You know Lord Shacklock?’

‘I know his son, Brandon. Younger son,’ he added, with a grin. ‘We’re all invited for a hunting weekend on the seventeenth. Apparently there’s going to be a splendid ball, most of the county invited. I do hope you’ll be there.’

‘If the county’s invited, I’m sure we will be,’ she said.

‘And dare I hope that you’ll spare a dance for a despicable younger son?’

‘If you have any desire to dance with a penniless younger daughter.’

He bowed. ‘The pleasure will be entirely mine.’

They chatted inconsequentially until he delivered her in front of Cicero again and, assured she knew her way from there, clattered off down the staircase.

Alice remained staring at the painting for some time, but she was not thinking about brush strokes or colour or Cicero or indeed Ivor Wentworth. She was thinking that if she and Bentham Farocean were at the Shacklock ball, then Rachel and Jervis Farocean would be too. And the face she saw in her mind’s eye was Angus’s.

‘I am not a very confident horsewoman,’ Lepida had written, ‘but I agree it is the best way to see the countryside. I’ll ride, if you promise not to go out of a walk.’

So Nina had borrowed a horse for her from Bobby, and they rode out every morning.

‘I don’t want to keep you from your hunting,’ Lepida said.

‘It doesn’t matter. I can always hunt – I won’t always have you.’

‘No, that’s true,’ Lepida said.

It was a cold, sunny day, and the slanting sunshine threw Lepida’s face into planes that made her look thinner than ever. ‘I’m so glad you’ve found time to come and stay,’ Nina said.

‘I’m having a delightful time,’ Lepida said serenely.

Apart from the sedate rides, they had walked about the garden and into the town, and otherwise mostly sat and read or talked together. Bobby was hunting three times a week, so vigorously that on the days in between she was almost prostrate, but she had had them to an informal dinner on a non-hunting day, and they had been once to tea with Lady Clemmie. Nina had invited Clemmie to join their rides, but she had declined charmingly, saying she would be de trop. They were on their own for most of the first week, Mr Cowling being away on business: his intention to spend more time at home had not accounted for business activity already planned.

Nina had ridden Lepida’s mount, Florence, before, and knew that while gentle and even-paced she did have one fault, which was a liking sometimes to go down and roll when crossing water. Riding side by side, Nina felt she could intervene if that appeared likely, and her groom, Daughters, said stoutly, ‘Don’t you worry, ma’am – I won’t let anything happen to Miss Morris.’

He already adored her, fussed over her and checked Florence’s girths a dozen times before each ride. All the servants loved Lepida. She had a natural grandeur about her that commanded respect, allied to a sweetness of manner that made her approachable – a winning combination. Nina’s lady’s maid Tina, who was dressing Lepida during her stay, was concerned about how thin she was and reported her anxiety to Mrs Deering who, already shocked at how little Miss Morris ate, concocted wonderful delicacies for every meal to tempt her. The housemaid, Polly, who went in to light her fire in the morning, thought her an angel. Lepida did not sleep well and was always awake when Polly arrived, and was very soon possessed of all Polly’s secrets. And Deering raided the garden, neighbours’ hothouses and even the hedgerows to bring fresh floral offerings for her every day, which he left shyly in the kitchen for Polly to take up to ‘the visiting young lady’, a title he pronounced with a touch of awe.

They had just come out of a wood when they saw, crossing a hillside two fields distant, the hunt streaming away – the low forms of the hounds, the scarlet splashes of the hunt servants, and the main body of the field, already strung out by the differing abilities of the riders. Bobby would be there among them, Nina thought, trying to work out which of the undistinguishable shapes was her. One of those near the front, for sure.

Lepida mistook her concentration for wistfulness. ‘You’re wishing you were with them, aren’t you?’

Nina turned to smile, and said peacefully, ‘Not at all. I am content exactly where I am.’

Lepida examined her face. ‘You’ve changed, you know,’ she said. ‘I’ve been noticing it ever since I arrived.’

‘Changed how?’

Lepida thought about it, seeking the right words. ‘You just said you’re content. I think that’s it. There was always a restlessness about you, as though you might suddenly burst away, like water from a breached dam.’

‘And you don’t see that any more?’ Nina asked, amused.

‘Something has changed you. And I think you know it. What is it?’

Nina did know, but she was impressed that Lepida had noticed it. She wasn’t sure how to express it, however. And Lepida, however wise and learned she was, was unmarried.