Page 76 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘Well, I see that it’s a scandal for a man to divorce his wife to marry a younger woman, but none of you are responsible, so why should the scandal touch you?’

Kitty sighed. ‘I don’t know, but somehow it does. And nobody likes to be talked about.’ She decided to change the subject. ‘Isn’t it a lovely day? And isn’t it nice to ride together?’

‘It was a wonderful idea of yours to have our horses sent up. I wonder you didn’t think of it before.’

‘It isn’t worth it when one’s only up for a few days or a week. It’s so expensive. But as we’re staying for the whole Season . . .’

‘Mr Cowling was fascinated by the process,’ said Nina. ‘He wanted to know every detail of how it would be arranged. He does love to know how things work.’

‘Is he going to be staying in Town much?’

‘Yes. Now Mr Tullamore has set up the London office, Mr Cowling can have Decius back, and he has Truman Smith as well, so he ought to be able to relax more.’ She glanced sideways at Kitty. ‘Is Giles coming up later? He didn’t mind your coming alone?’

‘Staying with Aunt Caroline is the opposite of being alone,’ Kitty said. Nina noticed she hadn’t answered the question. She wondered if something was wrong, but Kitty was a very private person. She supposed if she wanted to talk about it she would. ‘Aunt Caroline says it’s going to be a very good Season,’ Kitty went on, ‘and I’m so looking forward to it. I seem to have done nothing but have babies for years. We must make sure we see everything there is to see.’

‘That’s a large ambition.’ Nina laughed.

‘I shall have to chaperone Rachel for some of the time – I can’t expect Aunt Caroline to do it all – but I don’t mind. I had to bring her with me – it’s so dull for her at Ashmore without Alice, and it’s hard for her seeing Angus only once a month.’

‘Don’t you have to stop her seeing him?’ Nina asked.

‘No, only stop them being alone together. At least, that’s how I interpret it. I think my mother-in-law is too tired to be strict. It must be hard to be having another baby at her age.’

‘Have you heard anything from her?’

‘From Linda. She writes mostly about herself – she seems to have managed to get invited to some parties – but she says her mother is in reasonable health. The baby’s due in August.’

Nina didn’t comment. Kitty glanced at her and saw her inward-looking expression. Nearly three years of marriage and no sign of a baby. Kitty adored her own two sons, and felt compassion for her friend. Every woman needed something to love. ‘I was so sorry to hear about your little dog,’ she said tentatively. Nina didn’t answer. ‘Will you get another?’

‘No,’ said Nina. Not even to Kitty did she want to talk about Trump. And it had not been about her dog she had been thinking. Mentioning the dowager’s pregnancy had made her remember the way, every time she met Mr Cowling after an absence, he looked at her with an intent, questioning expression and she knew – though he never mentioned it – that he was wondering if she had settled on someone to father a baby for him. It was like a maddening itch that she could not reach. She wanted love, she wanted physical love, she wanted a child, and half the time she thought it would be the best thing for both of them if she did have an affair. The other half of the time she was horrified by the whole idea. And she knew that if she did come to him to tell him she was with child, he would be delighted and at the same time heartbroken because he loved her. And he would never stop wondering who the father was.

Her aunt would say, I warned you not to marry an older man you didn’t love. Nina shook away the thoughts, and looked around her at the lovely parkland, intensely green with new grass, the trees decked in soft young leaves, the lovely horse beneath her. If she had not married Mr Cowling she would have been a teacher in a small school in Yorkshire, living in lodgings, with a restricted life that did not include horses, dogs, Seasons in London, and she would have been unmarried and just as childless. She had so much to be grateful for.

Kitty was looking at her curiously. ‘Shall we canter?’ she said.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Rose brooded over the dog incident as she went about her work. A stray dog, of course, could have been dying anyway. It might have been chance that it keeled over at that particular moment. But it seemed a strange coincidence. And the boy she had once seen die of toadstool poisoning had gone the same way – vomiting and convulsing.

On the other hand, she was loath to believe that Martha, however much she resented her, would go that far. It was chilling to think even for a moment that anyone could hate her enough to want to kill her. And if it was true – what then? What should she – could she – do? What about Michael? Should she tell him? Would he believe her? And what could he do about it?

She slept badly, dreaming fitfully about people shouting at her, some shapeless creature pursuing her, a dead dog writhing with maggots crawling out of the ditch and dragging itself towards her. She woke with a jerk and a shudder, glad for once to be waking early.

As she reached the foot of the back stairs, she met Afton coming out of the plate room. He looked at her, concerned. ‘Are you ill? You look pale.’

She brushed him off. ‘I’m all right.’

‘I noticed you looked a bit under the weather yesterday,’ he persisted. ‘What’s wrong? Maybe I can help.’

She would never have unburdened herself to Mr Moss – and Mr Moss would never have asked. But Mr Afton was a different sort of butler. Perhaps he could give her advice. ‘I’ve got a bit of a problem,’ she admitted at last.

‘Come and tell me about it, and we’ll see what we can do,’ he said comfortably. He led the way to the butler’s room and she followed, half reluctantly. No-one else was down yet, apart from the scullery maid scrubbing the kitchen floor. She wondered why Mr Afton was about so early, but it wasn’t for her to ask.

In his room, she hesitated, wondering about the wisdom of it, then plunged in. ‘I think someone tried to poison me.’

He didn’t waste time with useless exclamations. He said, ‘Why do you think that?’

Her liking for him rose a notch. She explained. ‘I saw a kid die of eating a toadstool once. It looked like that,’ she concluded.