Page 159 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

Rachel flushed, unhappy and uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘He said – he said he would ask me again when I am of age.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘He’s completely unreasonable! A girl is allowed to dance at a ball, for Heaven’s sake! I think he wants me to be locked up all day and see nobody.’

‘If that is so,’ Grandmère said, in measured tone, ‘you must think: do you want to marry him?’

The tears began to brim over. ‘He was so unkind. After I risked everything for him. Defied Mama and endured months of her scolding, and – and oppressing me. And then he talks to me as if . . . He called me a wild animal!’ Richard began to laugh softly, which did not help her mood. ‘He’s not the only man in the world, and he’d better learn that. I shall have many other offers to choose from.’

‘Any creature less oppressed than you would be hard to find,’ Richard said. ‘My silly little sister! A wild animal, eh? You must have depths kept hidden from me all these years.’

The tears went back to their source. ‘You’re not to make fun of me,’ she said crossly.

‘Tiens, you must not,’ said Grandmère. ‘It is not gentlemanly to tease.’ But she was laughing too.

The carriages were got out to take everyone to church, but Alice said she would walk. ‘I’ve been sitting too long, I need to stretch my legs.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Giles said. ‘We’ll work up an appetite for the turkey.’

‘Can we take the dogs?’ Alice asked. ‘They do so love to go out. We can tie them up in the porch.’

Warm coats, mufflers, gloves and hats were the order of the day. Giles had a deerstalker, and turned the flaps down to keep his ears warm. Alice unearthed a knitted hat from her childhood in preference to something more grown-up and fashionable, and they set off under the dreary grey sky with the brisk, cold breeze pushing them from behind and the dogs racing about, puffing out their breath in small clouds. Everything was very still, no birds anywhere, only the moving bare branches of the trees breaking the monotony.

‘The sky is so low. Do you think it will snow?’ Alice asked.

Giles looked about and sniffed the air. ‘I don’t think so. Not the right sort of cloud. I hope not, anyway.’

‘I hope so a bit, but not entirely. What age do you have to be before you stop looking forward to snow?’

‘You must know that better than me. You’re closer to it. All I think of is the nuisance, all the animals to cart feed to, and the flood when the snow finally melts.’

‘That’s a very dull way of thinking,’ Alice said. ‘I suppose you’re very grown-up now.’

‘You’re pretty grown-up yourself,’ he laughed, ‘if you can talk to your elders and betters so boldly. I remember when I came home after Father died, there were two very shy, mouselike girls in the old schoolroom who wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’

‘Why would anyone say boo to a goose? Such an odd expression! The snow is lovely for painting, though, you must admit that.’

‘There was a picture of a snowy landscape in the nursery when I was a child,’ he remembered. ‘I never liked it. Too chilly!’

‘Without snow there’d be no Christmas cards,’ she said solemnly. ‘No lamplit inn with a stage-coach pulled up outside it, the wheel-tracks in the snow, the ladies in crinolines with big muffs . . . I must say, a muff would be a good idea on a day like this. Gloves don’t really seem to help much.’

He pulled her against him. ‘Put your hand in my pocket and tuck the other under your arm. There, is that better?’

‘Much. Thanks.’ A pause. ‘I’m glad to have the chance to talk to you,’ she began.

‘Oh dear. I sense a request coming,’ he said.

‘I didn’t mean that. I meant really talk to you. We don’t often have the opportunity.’

‘We don’t, little sister, especially now you’re in London so much. How’s art school?’

‘Wonderful.’

‘Still keen, then?’

‘More than ever. I think . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I believe I could make my living at it one day.’

‘What will your husband think about that?’