Page 37 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle

There were more explanations at dinner. With no company, Lady Stainton allowed the girls to dine down. Unlike Giles, she would never have contemplated a tray, and since Sebastian had gone to his own house for a few days, having her daughters there was preferable to a tête-à-tête with Giles – or, more likely, long silences, because he did not seem to have developed any social small-talk. Thank goodness, she thought, that Easter was approaching, when family members would come and stay to break up the monotony.

The girls had to explain first about the damage to the trap. Giles’s first thought was More expense. ‘How did you come to put it in a ditch?’ he demanded crossly.

‘Not all of it – only one wheel,’ Alice said. ‘And it wasn’t Ray’s fault – Biscuit was startled when the bicyclist came round the bend.’

The rest of the story followed. Lady Stainton paid little attention until it got to the part about Victor Lattery staying in the village with his aunt. ‘What’s a philanthropist?’ Rachel asked.

‘Someone who does good works,’ Giles answered her.

‘Oh, then she must be very respectable,’ Alice said, with a glance at Rachel, ‘and so must he. He said she’s called Miss Eddowes.’

The dowager’s face stiffened. ‘We don’t know her,’ she said, in an icy voice.

‘He said she lives—’ Alice began, but was quelled by a positively glacial look from her mother.

‘We do not know her.’

There was a brief, awkward silence. The girls exchanged a glance, and seemed on the verge of disastrously pursuing the subject when there was an interruption. The second footman, William, came in with a telegram on a silver tray, which he handed to Moss, who examined it loftily, then stepped in stately mode across the room to Giles.

‘A telegram has just come for you, my lord,’ he said – As if, Alice thought, we didn’t know that!

Giles read it, and looked up. ‘It’s from Richard. He’s coming home tomorrow. Wants to be picked up at the station – the nine-fifty.’

‘Richard! Hooray! Oh, Giles, can we be the ones to fetch him?’

‘I don’t see why not.’

‘Moss, tell Mrs Webster to prepare Mr Richard’s room,’ said the dowager, neutrally. But even she looked pleased.

‘And send word to the stables to have the carriage ready to meet the train,’ Giles added. ‘I suppose it’s compassionate leave,’ he added to his mother.

‘Not very compassionate,’ Rachel said, ‘all these months later.’

Victor Lattery and Miss Eddowes were forgotten.

Richard Tallant was a little shorter than Giles, a little stockier in build, and was handsomer and more charming. He was ‘the spare’, the sole reason for his existence being to guarantee the title should Giles die untimely. But he had never minded that. He had inherited not only his father’s looks but his lack of introspection, while Giles had more of his mother’s reserve. Not having to be serious and steady and take responsibility suited Richard perfectly. He could enjoy life and leave Giles to stand the nonsense. A second son traditionally went into the army, and that suited him too. He loved horses and good company, and the army had not been engaged in any dangerous actions when he first got his commission. He was a little put out when the second South African war broke out, but he anticipated no danger or hardship from being sent overseas. And while he met, in fact, with both, it never dented his sanguine assumption that everything would turn out all right: the world, he believed without thinking about it, was designed specifically to ensure his happiness. On the whole, he had been proved right.

He was pleased to see his little sisters waiting for him on the platform as the train pulled in. Rachel was starting to be very pretty – she would break hearts, he thought – and Alice had grown tall. He climbed down, leaving his servant, Speen, to see to the luggage, and enjoyed their excited greetings and their concerned cooings over the sling on his left arm. ‘It’s nothing, just a scratch,’ he assured them, then winced as Alice hugged him. ‘Not that much of a nothing! ’Ware the wing, old thing!’

‘Oh, sorry – but it’s so lovely to see you!’ Alice cried. ‘I don’t think you’ve changed a bit.’

‘Only you’re very brown,’ Rachel added.

‘It’s hot out there in South Africa,’ he assured her solemnly. ‘I thought you knew.’

They walked to the gate, where Giles was waiting. He, Richard thought, looked older, and even more grim than the last time he’d seen him, as if the earldom wasn’t bringing him much jollity.

The brothers shook hands. ‘Wounded?’ Giles said, scanning Richard’s face anxiously.

‘Just a nick. Almost healed.’

‘So it’s sick leave? You’ll have to go back?’

‘Not me,’ Richard grinned. ‘My tour’s finished, and I’ve declined to sign on again. I’m out and clear.’

‘But …’ Giles began, wondering how Richard was going to support himself. Or did he believe the estate would do it?

Richard went on quickly, before anything else could be said, ‘I calculated that you’d need me here. Must be a lot to do. I’m yours to command, brother of mine. I’m here to help.’