Page 35 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

Miss Hatto said, ‘It’s not her that matters, it’s my lady.’

‘That’s what you think,’ said Rose.

‘All the same,’ said Miss Hatto, with something of a volteface, ‘it’s the prettiest thing you ever saw, to see her with that baby.’

‘What are they going to call it?’ Rose wondered.

‘Nothing’s been said yet,’ said Miss Hatto. ‘Not when I’ve been listening. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear. And now I must take up my lady’s warm milk.’ She got up to leave.

‘Good job she likes it,’ Rose called after her. ‘That’s a drink I never could abide. Cold is all right, but warm milk tastes of cows.’ Mrs Webster stared at her for a moment, and Rose shrugged. ‘Well, I know what I mean.’

Moss noted the set of the dowager’s lips as she re-entered the house from the carriage, and felt Rose had been closer to the mark than Mrs Webster. Trouble brewing, was his thought – a slightly muzzy thought, since one of the bottles of the ’95 he had opened for dinner last night had proved to be past its best and not good enough to be sent upstairs, so he had been finishing it off in honour of the new heir. A sin to waste it. And useless to send it to the kitchen for cooking wine, as happened in some houses, since Mrs Oxlea wasn’t that sort of cook.

‘Wonderful news, my lady,’ he said hopefully. ‘The staff would wish me to extend their respectful congratulations . . .’ The two long words nearly floored him.

Maud walked past him without response and headed for the stairs. She was not sure what she felt yet about the whole situation. It was typical, of course, that Kitty should have the baby while she was absent. It would have been much more proper of her to wait until the child’s grandmother was present. But could you hope for better from a girl like that? She would do anything gain attention.

It was good, of course, that she had had a boy. Maud was glad that the succession was assured – or, at least, she would be when she had inspected the child and seen how likely it was to survive. And so many things could happen between birth and maturity that it was imperative there should be a second son as soon as possible. She hoped Kitty knew that. She must speak sharply to Giles about his duty – he was so vague and woolly in that area, there was no knowing if he had taken the realisation on board.

But, glad though she was about the birth of an heir, she couldn’t help knowing that it was one more thing pushing her off her throne. Giles’s wife was just that – nothing more than his wife – until she had consolidated her position with a child. Now Maud feared the power and prestige of the position would begin relentlessly to drift towards the younger woman, leaving her with nothing to look forward to but old age.

She was so deep in her resentful thoughts she almost bumped into her mother-in-law, who was coming along the passage in the other direction.

‘I thought I heard you arrive,’ Grandmère said. Maud tried to walk past, but the old lady blocked her passage. ‘Now, Maud,’ she said, with her most annoying smile, ‘I hope you are not going to cause trouble?’

Maud raised her eyebrows. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Let the child enjoy her baby. Let the young parents have the joy of it.’

‘Sentimental rubbish!’ Maud exclaimed.

‘Ah, yes, I know how you English are. You love your dogs, but your children— pfui! Ils sont considérés comme un atout agricole.’

‘Please don’t speak nonsense,’ Maud snapped. ‘I won’t be lectured on your foolish French notions of “love”.’ And she walked past.

Grandmère smiled to herself and called after her teasingly. ‘Little boys sent away to school to learn not to cry. Girls shut up at the top of the house until they can be married. Tiens, la froideur des anglais est bien connue!’

Nurse Belton hadn’t known how to deal with the old lady. When she had tried to express outrage at the idea of the countess feeding the baby at her breast, the flood of rapid French, the bright fierce eyes and the fluttering fingers had driven her back like a flock of birds flying into her face. She felt relieved when she heard the dowager had arrived, knowing a little of her reputation, but she missed her mark there, too. Her murmurings about ‘the best houses’, ‘not done’ and ‘dear Lady Stavesacre’ slid off like water from a duck’s back. Maud had been born a Forrest, and so high above everyone else in the land, she could barely have seen Lady Stavesacre through a telescope. Snobbery did not apply to her. She was the yardstick by which everything was measured.

‘I will see the baby,’ she said, cutting through Nurse Belton’s narrative as if she hadn’t heard it – which she hadn’t. She took up the child, handling it firmly as one accustomed, and assured herself that it looked healthy and whole, had all its limbs and digits, and a reasonable chance of beauty once the crushed redness of birth passed off. It tried to open its eyes, and its starfish fingers tried to close over one of hers as she inspected it, and she did feel a tug of something frighteningly visceral at that moment, but she resisted it. ‘Satisfactory,’ she said sharply, pushing the bundle back at the nurse.

Nurse Belton couldn’t help being impressed by her ladyship’s grandeur. Here was real power, she sensed. ‘He is a fine baby in every respect,’ she gushed. ‘Would your ladyship like to see the mother?’ She’d make the girl see sense, Nurse Belton thought. Lady Stainton was one of the old school. She much mistook if even Lord Stainton ever defied her.

But Maud turned away without answering. She had seen the baby. She didn’t want to see the mother. Kitty would need rest and quiet, she explained to herself. But the fact was that she didn’t want to see that – that suburban miss in her moment of triumph. She would rather think of the heir in isolation, as if he had been dropped into the nursery by a beneficent angel.

Giles entered Kitty’s bedroom to find her sitting up in bed with the baby in her arms. ‘Was that Dr Arbogast I saw leaving?’ he asked. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘I was worried about the baby’s rash,’ Kitty said, not looking up from the adored face. ‘Nanny said it was only a milk rash, but I wanted to be sure.’

Nurse Belton’s three-day reign of terror was over. Nanny Pawley and nursery-maid Jessie had been installed and now had care of the baby, while Miss Hatto had said she could take care of my lady’s needs. Being only eighteen, Kitty had bounced back so quickly she’d have been up and about if the general female consensus hadn’t been appalled by the idea. Even Rose, who had never had a baby, popped in to warn her that her insides would slip if she got up too early.

Her mother-in-law had returned, but so far she had been blessedly free of visits from her. Instead, a message of congratulation had been sent via Miss Taylor, delivered to Miss Hatto and thence to Kitty. It would have been possible, Kitty thought, to find an insult in there somewhere, but since she didn’t want to see the dowager she preferred to think it quite normal behaviour. Nanny Pawley – who was round and comfortable – had said she mustn’t be upset or it would affect her milk.

‘And what did the doctor say?’ Giles was asking.

Now Kitty looked up. ‘That it was just a milk rash,’ she admitted.

Giles perched on the edge of the bed. ‘He seems pretty strong to me, and everyone who knows says he’s very healthy.’ Kitty hesitated, clearly on the verge of a confidence. ‘What’s wrong? Tell me.’