Page 145 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

‘I reckon the master’s getting restless,’ Hook said at dinner, heaping potatoes onto his plate and passing the dish on.

‘What makes you think that?’ Rose asked, wondering how he stayed so rake-thin when he ate so much. Probably worked it off in spite and bile, she thought.

‘His bedside book. Always a good clue, that is, to the valet that knows how to read it.’

‘I didn’t know you could read,’ Speen said with mock interest. ‘When did you learn that, then?’

‘Read the clue, is what I mean,’ Hook said, glaring at him. ‘And since he got back from London, he’s had this old book beside the bed by some bloke called Belzoni. All about the pyramids, temples and tombs of Egypt and – some other place, Nubbly or something.’

‘Nubia?’ suggested Mrs Webster. ‘That’s next door to Egypt.’

‘Could be that,’ Hook admitted.

‘Ah, Egypt!’ Moss exclaimed with a sigh, gazing down the table at Ada, who was daintily crunching a piece of crackling. ‘The pyramids! The mighty Nile! The great Cleopatra! Most beautiful woman in the world, you know, Queen Cleopatra. The Emperor Julius Caesar fell in love with her at first sight, as did Mark Antony, who was a great Roman general. She used to bathe in asses’ milk—’

‘How d’you get milk out of an ass?’ Hook interrupted impatiently.

‘You ask him to pass you the jug,’ said Speen. ‘Pass it down, will you, Mr Hook, there’s a good chap?’ Hook gave him a furious look.

‘All domestic mammals can create milk, not just cows,’ Moss said, momentarily diverted from his course. Knowledge of all kinds was his resource, and distributing it his prerogative. ‘Many primitive peoples drink goat’s milk instead of cow’s. Even, I believe, sheep’s milk in some places.’

‘Sheep’s milk, fancy,’ murmured Ellen politely. She quite liked learning new facts. She thought it was posh, knowing things.

‘Asses are donkeys, aren’t they?’ said Mabel. ‘I couldn’t fancy drinking that. Mr Gregory has a donkey up at Shelloes, and it don’t half pong!’

‘That was because of the pigs,’ said Doris. ‘It’s always getting into the same field with ’em and getting pig mess on it when it rolls.’

‘Asses’ milk,’ Moss said emphatically, regaining attention, ‘was considered to be an aid to beauty. I believe all the lovely women of the eastern world used it: the Queen of Sheba, the famous obelisks of the sultans—’

‘Odalisques,’ Mrs Webster corrected.

He ignored her. ‘It was said to soften and whiten the skin.’ His eyes drifted back of their own accord to Ada, who was as white as a lily. ‘Fine ladies used to anoint their bodies with exotic ungulents . . .’

He saw Ada’s lips form a pleasantly shocked O at the mention of bodies, and missed Mrs Webster’s patient correction.

Speen, who knew what an ungulate was, smirked. ‘And now we’re back to the asses,’ he commented to his plate.

‘But Cleopatra was the most beautiful of all,’ Moss went on for his audience of one. ‘They say her face was so lovely it could launch a thousand ships.’

Mrs Webster rolled her eyes and gave up.

‘How did that work, then, Mr Moss?’ asked Ellen, genuinely puzzled. ‘I thought they used a bottle o’ champagne.’

Moss was puzzled himself, but could not, of course, admit it. ‘It’s a metaphor,’ he said kindly.

Ellen was plainly about to ask, What’s a metaphor?

Hook intervened loudly. ‘My point being,’ he said, ‘that I wouldn’t be surprised if the master wasn’t to bolt one of these days. He had a letter from some old university friend of his that’s going out to Egypt to dig up tombs, and I bet he’s thinking of joining him. He’s been staring at nothing a lot these last few days, and you know what that means.’

‘How do you know about the letter?’ Speen asked, beating Mrs Webster to it.

‘I saw it. He’s using it to keep his place in the book.’

‘But how d’you know what it said?’ Speen asked nastily.

‘Please tell me you didn’t read it,’ said Mrs Webster.

Hook flushed angrily at being caught out. ‘Of course I didn’t. What do you take me for? It – it fell on the floor when I moved the book, and I couldn’t help seeing a few words when I picked it up.’

‘Oh, Hooky, you’ve done it now,’ Speen murmured.

Crooks, a little slow off the mark, caught up. ‘A gentleman’s gentleman reading his master’s private correspondence? I can’t believe it! I simply cannot believe any personal servant would be so debased as to do such a thing!’

‘Or, at least, not so stupid as to blurt it out in front of everyone,’ Speen said, for Hook’s ears alone.

‘Oh, come off it, Crooky,’ Hook lashed out angrily. ‘I bet you did your share of snooping – before you got demoted, that is.’

‘How dare you! I wasn’t—’

‘Be quiet, all of you!’ Moss commanded. He glared from one valet to another. ‘What sort of example is this to set to the lower servants?’ Silence settled over the table, except for the rather noisy chewing of Wilfrid, down the far end, who had adenoids and ate with his mouth open. And we were having such a nice, civilised conversation about antiquities, Moss thought sadly, and the girls were learning so much. He sought for another subject. India might be too inflammatory, and too close to Egypt. He settled on milk. ‘Turning milk into cheese is an ancient craft, practised by the earliest humans. It is believed to have started with the Sumerians of Mesopotamia.’

Peaceful eating resumed. Ada was daydreaming about bathing, not in milk, which she thought would be a bit nasty, but in hot water, scented with bath salts, which she had seen in an advertisement. In her dream she arose from the bath and dressed herself in a flowing silk gown, and was brought a bouquet of roses by a tall, handsome man who bore a strong resemblance to George, the third groom in his lordship’s stables . . .

Speen dissected the black bit carefully out of a potato, smiling to himself in a satisfied manner.

Hook glared at Speen sideways under his brows, viciously smashing his potato into his gravy and vowing to get his own back. That was two grudges he had now, and Hook was good at grudges. That Speen thought he was so clever. But everyone had secrets, and Hook was the man to find them out. He’d get him back, you could count on that!