Page 64 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

‘I know that,’ Giles said, annoyed. ‘And I am investing. My father took no interest in the estate, and left it in poor heart, but I knew from the start that I had to plough money into it. That’s why—’ He stopped abruptly, teetering on the edge of saying that was why he had married an heiress, which would have been unforgivable.

Cowling gave him a canny look, as if he knew how the sentence would have ended. ‘Sounds as if it’s in good hands now, any road,’ he said pacifically, and changed the subject.

Giles walked on beside him gloomily, not wanting to be grateful for such tact.

The visitors met the rest of the household at luncheon. Richard claimed old acquaintance with Nina, and garnered a suspicious look or two from Mr Cowling at his teasing, which spoke of too much intimacy. Uncle Sebastian was a rumblingly comfortable presence for buffering any tensions. And Alice, whom Nina had met only once before, at the wedding, was openly admiring and frankly interested, eager to know everything about her, wanting details about her life at school with Kitty, and what Kitty had been like then. She asked how Nina had first met Mr Cowling, and when Nina spoke about the ball at Dene Park, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, but that’s where you proposed to Kitty, isn’t it, Giles?’

‘Not quite,’ Giles said tersely.

‘The ball was on the Saturday, and he proposed on the Monday, didn’t he, Kitty?’ Nina said. She couldn’t look at either of them.

‘It must have been a very good ball, if it resulted in two marriages,’ said Alice.

‘That’s what balls are for, infant,’ Richard said. ‘How else do you think young ladies meet eligible bachelors?’

‘On the hunting field,’ Alice suggested.

‘Dishevelled and mud-splattered, in your case,’ Richard said. ‘Let’s hope the eligible bachelor has a taste for hoydens.’

Uncle Sebastian intervened. ‘Market Harborough – that’s in the Fernie’s country, isn’t it? Do you hunt, Mr Cowling?’

After luncheon, Kitty suggested Nina might like to ride. She had brought her newly acquired habit in the hope that a mount would be offered. Richard and Alice elected to come with them, Richard on Vipsania. Nina was offered Queen Bee.

Uncle Sebastian suggested to Mr Cowling a game of billiards, allowing Giles to escape to a meeting with his agent.

On the ride, Alice and Richard soon wanted to race off. Nina, who hadn’t ridden much since childhood, and was on a strange horse, didn’t mind keeping down to Kitty’s pace. It was hot, but up on the crest of the hill there was a pleasant breeze, and they walked the horses, enjoying the view and the comfort of a chat. ‘I’m not supposed to dash about, in any case, for a few weeks more,’ Kitty said. ‘But I’m looking forward to hunting this winter.’

‘Yes, me too,’ said Nina. ‘Mr Cowling’s promised to buy me a horse.’ She told Kitty about meeting Bobby Wharfedale, about riding with her on one of her spare horses, and went on to describe the dinner Bobby had invited the Cowlings to, where they had met some of their neighbours, and the return dinner Nina had held.

‘I’m glad you have a new friend,’ Kitty said.

Nina thought it sounded wistful. ‘Haven’t you made any?’

‘I seem to have done nothing for a year but lie about, expecting,’ said Kitty.

The new mattress turned out to be extremely comfortable, but Nina couldn’t sleep.

It had been a good dinner – she had seen Mr Cowling inspecting everything as it was brought to the table and nodding to himself with approval. Two footmen and a butler did the waiting. There were flowers and candelabra on the table. The silver was old, but well-polished. And at night you couldn’t see the shabbiness of the dining-room, which Kitty had referred to in an unguarded moment. Nina had been placed between Richard and Uncle Sebastian. Protocol – they had been taught all this sort of thing at Miss Thornton’s school – suggested she should have been placed on Giles’s right. Had Kitty thought she would be more comfortable with Richard, whom she knew, and Sebastian, whom anyone could get on with? The day had been so arranged that she had hardly seen Giles and not had to exchange a single word with him. She was both glad and sorry.

There had been champagne, hock and claret, and she had drunk enough to be a little hazy – enough to stop her sleeping, anyway. The evening, in her memory, was a blur of moving candle-flames and the sound of silver on china and the murmur of voices like bees in a border. The glint of candlelight on crystal. The spark of it catching Kitty’s sapphires as she leaned forward. She had roses in her hair – creamy-coloured with pink lips – fresh against her dark curls. The candles and the length of the table meant Nina couldn’t really see Giles at all. Richard had flirted with her, so blatantly that Sebastian had looked at him reprovingly once or twice. But in Richard’s eyes there was pity behind the levity. She remembered his saying he knew what it was like to love the wrong person. Had he guessed her secret? Horrible thought! She must be more careful.

She tossed and turned, but in the restless churn of thoughts, one conviction began to crystallise – that she was desperately thirsty. She sat up, reached for her water-carafe – and managed somehow to knock it over. The water poured over the edge of the bedside table, some falling on her bedclothes, the rest soaking the carpet. She got out of bed, and stumbled about in the gloom, by the meagre light coming from between the window curtains, until she found matches on the mantelpiece and could relight her candle. No water left in the carafe. None, of course, in the ewer by the wash-stand. She licked her lips with a dry tongue. It was too late to ring. She would have to go and find some.

She put on her dressing-gown, and with the carafe in one hand and the candle in the other, she opened the door, listened, and stepped out. The house was quiet. It was past midnight; the servants would have gone to bed. If she hadn’t been still a little elevated from the wine, she would have wondered where exactly she was going. In a normal-sized house, one could find the kitchen with its water-tap easily enough, but in a castle?

She reached the head of the stairs, and was hesitating when silently, round the turn of them, Giles came up. He was fully dressed, except for his tie and collar, and looked tired to death. He stopped when he saw her, then continued up. He didn’t ask, but she answered anyway, ‘I spilled my water, and I’m very thirsty.’

‘You should have rung,’ he said automatically.

‘I didn’t like to. It’s so late – everyone will be in bed.’

He looked blank for a moment, as if her reply was past understanding. ‘You can always ring,’ he said, as if expounding a universal rule.

She only looked at him – now, at last, feasting her eyes, knowing it was poison food, but craving it anyway. ‘Giles,’ she began.

‘Don’t,’ he said, turning his face away wearily. ‘There’s nothing to say.’ After a moment of silence, he said, ‘Give me the carafe – I’ll fill it for you.’

She handed it over, but neither of them moved. She wanted to touch him. ‘You look tired,’ she said. ‘Were you working? This late?’