Page 108 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle

Nina did, of course, have a curiosity to see the Castle, and she missed the friend she had been so close to for three years; but she really did not want that invitation to arrive. To go in under the roof of a Kitty married to Giles Stainton, to see them together, to be forced to be in his company – no, that was not a good idea. Better for her, certainly, that the friendship should die, and that she should never see them again. She was not of their rank in life, anyway. Perhaps when – if – the invitation came she would be working somewhere as a teacher and unable to take the time off.

To Richard, she said, ‘She sounded as though they were happy.’

‘Really?’ he said. ‘Well, I’m glad, if surprised. I had a letter from Giles that was nothing but holocausts and mosaics and pillars and pediments. You’d think he had married the ruins of Pompeii, not a flesh-and-blood woman.’

‘Was it very different from any other letter he’s ever written to you?’ Nina asked shrewdly.

‘I’m not sure that he has ever written to me before,’ Richard said, ‘but I see your point. And, no, he is not the sort of man to gush about his feelings. Bits of broken columns alone have the power to move him. A dull stick, my brother. Well,’ he dusted off his hands, ‘that deals with the subject of our mutual friends. Now we can talk about something much more gripping – ourselves.’

‘You really think that will be interesting?’

‘Of course,’ he said, feigning surprise. ‘I’ll go first. What have I been doing? I’ve been in Biarritz with my aunt and grandmother. Dull work, when the rest of the family was in Scotland for the grouse shooting. But I was still too knocked up to go.’ He gestured to his injured arm. ‘My uncle has a place on the Spey. Glorious scenery, if you like that sort of thing.’

‘Don’t you?’

‘Well, I’m not completely insensitive to grand sweeping panoramas of purple hills and brooding forests – rather Biblical, I’ve always thought. And of an early morning, the reflections in the still waters of a loch would have me reaching for the water-colours, if I had ever learned to paint.’

‘Goodness! How poetical.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘You mock me, Miss Sanderton?’

‘I had put you down as a Town bird. I must humbly beg your pardon for misjudging you.’

‘You are mocking me! Jolly good. Makes our relationship much easier. Of course, I’m a Town bird when I’m in Town, which is often, but I was brought up in the country, and it does have the power to move me, when it takes me unawares.’

‘When you have small helpless animals to kill?’

‘I am a hunter, Miss Sanderton, like my forefathers back to the dawn of time. I eat what I kill – little birds and great big fish. And don’t give me that look! You eat birds and fish too, but leave the killing of them to someone else. How do you think that salmon gets onto the fishmonger’s slab?’

‘Salmon does not often come my way,’ Nina said demurely. ‘A little scrap of cod, perhaps, now and then.’

‘Now you’re being naughty. You look perfectly well fed to me. Now, your turn – what have you been up to?’

‘Apart from having my likeness taken?’

‘Good heavens, yes. I’ve seen your lovely features in the Harlequinade. Periodicals take a while to reach us in France, but I did see you impersonating Britannia with a very meek lion at your feet. Was it stuffed? Or did Mawes Morris import a real live animal to do you justice?’

She laughed. ‘Neither. The lion was copied at the Natural History Museum.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it. What else?’

‘Not much. Reading and studying, mostly. And I’ve been looking for a teaching post.’

‘With any success?’

‘I did see one advertisement, but it was for a small school in rural Berkshire. My aunt said I would be teaching farm children their primers, and that it would be a waste of my education. And another was for a school in Scotland, but again it was only for little ones. I was hoping to teach older girls.’

‘I do remember you said you were going to be a teacher,’ said Richard. ‘I hoped you weren’t serious.’

‘I was. I must earn my living. What about you?’

‘I have no desire to be a teacher.’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean. Don’t you have to earn yours?’

‘I suppose when my brother comes home the question will be raised. I’m enjoying the last of my freedom at this moment. It’s like a beautiful dream – please don’t wake me up.’

‘Reality must be faced,’ Nina said. ‘What can you do? What are your skills?’