Page 71 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘My brothers did. But Ma used them to keep moths out of the blankets.’

‘I didn’t know conkers did that.’

She was pleased to know something he didn’t. ‘And she made acorn flour, for baking. There’s a lot of good eating in a wood.’

‘Blackberries,’ he said.

‘Rosehips. And sloes.’

‘And mushrooms.’

‘You’ve got to know what you’re doing with mushrooms,’ she said. ‘A kid along the row from us died from eating a toadstool by mistake. But we used to find poor man’s beefsteak for my dad. That grows on oak trees.’

‘Have you ever eaten young lime leaves? We used to call them bread-and-butter – I don’t know why.’

They chatted on, about foraging, their childhoods, country lore: the conversation spread and flowed naturally like water finding new courses. Rose didn’t notice that she was completely relaxed or that she was enjoying herself: she only realised it afterwards, when going home up the hill and contemplating the oddness of having accepted an invitation for a walk with Woodrow the following week.

‘A nature walk,’ she said to herself, with a snort of amusement.

When Grandmère summoned him, Richard went at once. The tiny, elegant grande dame was as gracious as always, and though he sensed an unusual tension about her, she made him sit and take tea and make light conversation first. It was the civilised way.

‘And you, mon petit,’ she said, when he had answered her queries about the rest of the family, ‘how are the affairs of your heart progressing? When are you going to bring a prospective bride for me to interview?’

He laughed at her idea of how his courtship should be managed. ‘Be sure when there is such a person you will meet her first.’

‘At your age, you should be married. It will settle and improve you.’

‘Like fine port? Dear Granny, how can I possibly marry?’ he said, an edge of his frustration showing under the lightness of his tone. ‘I have no income.’

She waved a hand at him. ‘One sees that you eat and drink. You smoke – too much – you wear clothes. Comment ça ce peut?’

‘I charge my necessities to the estate,’ he said. ‘But I have no money. Oh, I can draw a little cash for day-to-day things, but that’s all.’

‘But that is not comme il faut,’ Grandmère said. ‘You are a grown man. I shall speak to Giles.’

‘Please don’t. It would embarrass me.’

‘Pfui!’ She made a very French sound of dismissal. ‘You cannot afford to be so nice. Le travailleur est digne de son salaire.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I suppose you do work hard?’

He changed the subject. ‘What was it you summoned me here to say? I know it must be important.’

He saw her expression harden. ‘It is Sir Thomas. Something very grave.’

‘Is he unwell?’

‘Oh, it is far worse than that. It is that girl, that girl! Oh, why did you bring her into our lives?’

‘You mean Chloë Sands? I thought you said she was a brilliant artist?’

‘What has that to do with it?’ Grandmère cried in frustration. ‘She will ruin Tommy. C’est une catastrophe!’

‘But what has she done?’ Richard asked in alarm. He had never seen her so upset.

Grandmère lifted her hands as if warding off an attack. ‘He means to marry her!’ she cried.

‘What? But he’s married already!’

‘Exactement! This foolish, foolish man means to obtain – un divorce.’