Page 14 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

Mr Cowling spent the journey reading the newspaper, while Nina sat with the sleeping Trump on her lap and tried not to feel depressed about going back. When they were not far out from Northampton station, Mr Cowling folded the paper, cleared his throat, and said, ‘You enjoyed your visit to London, I hope?’

‘Yes, very much,’ Nina roused herself to say.

‘Aye, I thought you did. You were sparkling when I first caught sight of you across the station. Chatting to that young man and sparkling.’

Nina was instantly wary. Did he mind her talking to Richard, being accompanied by Richard? Was it not proper? ‘I thought,’ she began falteringly, ‘that as the brother of Kitty’s husband, and Kitty being my oldest friend, he counted as, well, not exactly family, I suppose, but something very like.’

‘He’s a very nice, civil young man,’ Mr Cowling interrupted, with a warm little feeling, where he hadn’t even known he needed one, that she looked on Richard in a brotherly light. ‘But, my dear, I was thinking you’ve had a dull time of it since Christmas, stuck away alone in the house while I’ve been working so much. And I did promise you a wedding trip.’

Nina’s face cleared. ‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said quickly. ‘I know you’ve been busy.’

‘So I have, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been neglecting you. So how would you like to go away for Easter?’

‘Away? Oh, that would be lovely!’ Nina cried.

‘The fact of the matter is that I have to spend some time in Market Harborough. There’s a stocking factory there that I’m thinking of buying, and I need to look over it, inspect the books, see what I could do with it. You’ve never seen my house there, have you?’

Not Paris, or Vienna, or Florence, then. But anywhere was a change. ‘What’s it like?’ she asked.

‘Market Harborough? Oh, a nice little old town, with a market place. Handsome church. Pretty country all around. And the hunt – though they won’t still be hunting by then, I don’t suppose. But we could hire horses and have a bit of a ride around, if you’d like that. Not that I’m anything of a horseman, but I might stick in the saddle for an hour to please you. It’s not far from Wigston, where I was born, you know – fifteen, seventeen miles maybe.’

‘I should like to see where you were born.’

‘It’s just a village, nothing grand, but Decius is from there, too, and his family is still there.’

‘And what’s your house like?’

‘That’s the slug in the cabbage. It’s a very old house, nothing like Beechcroft, a bit grim to my way of thinking, and I’m afraid you wouldn’t be very comfortable there. But for a short visit we might manage, perhaps?’

‘I’m sure we could,’ Nina said.

‘I’ve an old couple looks after it, the Deerings. He minds the gardens and does odd jobs. She used to be cook for the Ampleforths, who owned the house before me. Old family, lived there for centuries, till they lost their fortune. I bought the house cheap, to do them a favour: Sidney Ampleforth was a good customer of mine. But I’ve never done anything to it. Most in general I take Moxton with me when I visit, and manage pretty well all round. But I’m useder to roughing it than you. We might take Mrs Mitchell—’

‘Oh, no,’ Nina said quickly. ‘No need to trouble her. I’m sure we can manage beautifully with the Deerings.’

He looked pleased at her willingness to adapt. ‘I can send Mrs Deering a note, ask her to take on a couple of maids. Deering and Moxton between them’ll manage the other stuff. And one thing, you can be sure of good victuals. Mrs Deering’s a fine cook. I’ve always done with plain grub, but it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a bit of fancy stuff now and then.’

‘That reminds me,’ Nina said, and produced the small package from Fortnum’s. ‘I bought this for you.’

He opened it, and looked as struck as if she had given him all the treasures of the Orient. His eyes, when he lifted them to her, were definitely moist. ‘You remembered I like it,’ he said reverently. ‘You bought me a present – all those shops in London and this is all you bought? Oh, my dear . . .’

Nina blushed and looked away. It was too much thanks for something so small, and too much love for him to be feeling for her. She did not deserve it. Now she felt guilty that she had been surly and discontented all day. The burden and responsibility of someone loving you more than you loved them came home to her. Until now, she would have thought that the opposite situation was the more uncomfortable.