Page 14 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle

‘Don’t gossip about your betters,’ Moss said sternly.

‘Just observing a fact, Mr Moss. She sent for a glass of milk, and when I popped up to her, she told me all about it. But you wouldn’t want to hear gossip, would you?’

Moss hesitated an agonising beat, but then said haughtily, ‘Certainly not. Go along with you.’

Rose grinned and passed on. Dory scuttled after her, and behind her heard Mrs Webster say, ‘I’ll get it out of her later.’

And Moss said, ‘Not on my account.’ But he didn’t sound sure.

Before they reached the scullery, they met Mr Crooks coming the other way with a pair of boots in his hand.

‘Thumb mark on the heel,’ he muttered. ‘Not mine, of course.’

‘Of course not, Mr Crooks,’ Rose said ironically.

Crooks seemed to take this for an invitation to chat. He lowered his voice. ‘I must say, there’s a very odd atmosphere Upstairs. I have the feeling that something unusual was said when everyone went out to hear the will read. You don’t suppose there’s anything wrong, do you? Oh dear, they can’t have lost it, can they? I’ve always heard Mr Moresby very highly spoken of. Though I believe it was young Mr Moresby who came, and we don’t know anything about him. But still, they’re the best firm in Ashmore, everyone says so.’

‘Something’s going on,’ Rose said, with an air of enjoying herself, ‘but that’s not it.’

‘You know something?’ Crooks asked hungrily.

‘I’m saying nothing,’ Rose replied. ‘Come on, Dory. Lots more to do yet.’ They went on, leaving Crooks looking more anxious than ever.

Each day Giles shut himself in the library with strict instructions that no-one was to disturb him unless sent for. He spoke to the agent, Markham; the bailiff, Adeane; the head gamekeeper, Saddler; the head man, Giddins. The banker, Vogel of Martin’s Bank, came with accounts and ledgers and a furrowed brow. Giles interviewed Moss and Mrs Webster. But most of all, he spoke to Moresby.

He breakfasted alone and early, took no luncheon, and did not appear in the evening until dinner was actually announced. At the table he sat grimly silent, and excused himself as soon as the dessert was put on. At least it meant he could keep out of the way of his relatives.

One day, however, Linda waylaid him. Tired of hoping for an interview, she hovered near the library door and caught him on his way back from the closet, jumping out from an alcove in front of him.

‘I’ve got to talk to you, Giles,’ she said. She actually stretched out her arms to block his way.

‘Not now, Linda. Let me by.’

She stared him down. His mother was a great starer, from beneath half-lowered eyelids, with a cool menace. Linda had inherited the power, but her stare was wide open, her eyes like twin gimlets boring straight into one’s head, hot and painful.

‘You must listen, Giles. You can’t keep avoiding your responsibilities by locking yourself in the library.’

Giles winced. ‘It’s my responsibilities that keep me locked in the library … Oh, what’s the use? What is it, Linda? What do you want?’

‘My allowance, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Papa paid me an allowance. I want to know if it was in his will.’

‘I told you, there was nothing in the will except the one clause, leaving everything to me. Do you think I’m lying?’

‘I suppose not—’

‘You suppose?’

‘Oh, don’t change the subject,’ Linda said impatiently. ‘Just answer me: are you going to pay my allowance?’

‘Why was he paying you an allowance? Surely it’s for Cordwell to keep you.’

Her eyes shifted away for an instant. ‘Times are hard. Especially in the West Country. You have no idea … God, I hate that place!’ It burst out of her. ‘Damp and cold and crumbling round my ears. Nothing for miles around but fields. Green, green, green everywhere you look!’

He felt an unwelcome pang of sympathy, though he knew she was longing for shops and pavements and theatres and bright lights, while he was pining for the desert. Still, it made him answer more kindly than he might otherwise have. ‘Linda, I can’t help you at the moment. I’m still learning about the estate, trying to sort out—’ He almost said ‘the muddle’ but stopped himself in time. ‘You’ll have to wait, like everyone else. And now, let me by.’ He grew impatient. ‘The longer you keep me from the books, the longer you’ll have to wait for an answer.’

She let him by, reluctantly. As he opened the library door she called after him, ‘I’m your sister, Giles! Remember that. Your sister!’

He thought she’d been going to say ‘your only sister’ but remembered just in time the existence of the two quiet girls whom everyone seemed to forget so easily.