Page 103 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

‘Get out, before I come out there and throw you out! And don’t come here again.’ As Afton didn’t move, he went to the end of the counter and made to open up the flap.

‘All right, I’m going,’ Afton said. He didn’t relish an encounter with the man who, though short, looked strong and, more to the point, capable of violence.

‘And tell your friend not to come here again. I’ve done him favours enough. If he can’t hold his tongue, he’s a bigger fool than I took him for. Get out, I tell you!’

The interlude at Kincraig was coming to an end. Uncle Stuffy had announced that he was going to Italy at the beginning of September and closing up the house. The astonishment Linda ought to have felt at the announcement, that her mother clearly felt (he had never done such a thing before), passed her by. She was too concerned about her own future. The Tullamores would be going home, to Craigend near Perth – and had politely declined to take Arabella and Arthur, so she was probably going to have to take them back to Ashmore – unless another invitation miraculously appeared.

She had some hopes of Prince Usingen. Close observation on that first visit had convinced her that he was not interested in Rachel: he hardly looked at her, and took no pains to seek her out. So Linda had been assiduously cultivating him ever since, and she believed she was making progress. Usingen spoke to her increasingly as though there were some connection between them, and he even, she observed, seemed to be taking trouble to get to know her mother for her sake. It would, of course, be improper of him to address her so early in her mourning. The problem was to stay within reach of him until the end of her sixth month, at which point she would be able to indicate to him that a discreet courtship could decently commence, with a view to marriage as soon as the twelve months were up. And then – riches, security, and a proper social life. She felt she would do better in the wider courts of Europe than in the tightly packed circles of English society where she was already too much known.

The news had come from Ashmore about Kitty’s new baby – another boy, the lucky creature! – and her difficult lying-in. She was apparently very poorly and, if she survived at all, would be recovering for many weeks, requiring quiet, rest and good nursing. Linda had hastened to argue to her mother that it would be better for them not to go home – only to find that her mother had already come to the same conclusion.

‘A second boy is good,’ Maud said, ‘and one is glad, but his birth is not of such great importance, and there is no need for me to be there. Indeed, given Kitty’s frail state, we should hesitate to burden the household by returning.’

She did not say so aloud, of course, but she was thinking it might not be such a tragedy if Kitty were to succumb to her condition. Her fortune was already secured to the family, and while there might be more to hope for from Sir John Bayfield on his death, it was not a sure thing, and Giles could as easily find a new wife with another fortune – and preferably this time a female from their own rank in society, who would bring more credit to the family name.

In the mean time, she had to find somewhere else agreeable to go. She had tried to talk Fergus out of going to Italy, had even tried to discover why he wanted to go, but he was as uninformative as he was stubborn on the subject. He said only that he wanted to see what condition his house in Venice was in, and when she said an agent could just as easily do that, he shrugged and changed the subject. On raising the matter again, she had hinted that she would welcome an invitation for her and Rachel to accompany him, but he had merely laughed and walked away.

Meanwhile, Paul Usingen’s attentions were growing so marked that she was afraid they would be noticed and arouse questions to which she was not sure she had any answers. Rachel was still on her hands, and while she could be packed off back to the Castle for a couple of months, there was still the prospect, if she did not get a suitable offer between now and Christmas, of having to chaperone her through another Season next year. What she ought to do was go back to the Castle and harangue Giles ceaselessly until he agreed to provide Rachel with a decent dowry, at which point all difficulties would evaporate: she would have her pick of suitors then. But the past year had tired her, and though she never normally shrank from a conflict, the thought of arguing with her unexpectedly mulish elder son filled her with ennui. Which meant she had to find somewhere else to go.

Then a letter came from her sister Vicky, announcing that the family was departing for southern France for six weeks. The announcement did not include an invitation, but that was not necessarily a problem. Once they were there, Vicky could hardly refuse to take them in.

The prince, obligingly, brought up the subject when they were out on a ride, pacing side by side and a little apart from the rest of the company. Usingen had evidently heard the news that Fergus was to close up the house.

‘What will you do, then, when it is time to leave?’ he asked. ‘Or will you go sooner? I had thought you would be here the whole summer.’

‘I thought so, too,’ Maud said. Usingen was gazing at her admiringly, and she was aware that she presented more than usually elegantly on horseback, even though her borrowed mount was built for endurance rather than style.

‘But you, of course, have many, many houses to choose from,’ he went on. ‘You, who must be welcome wherever you go. Do you yet favour one invitation over the others? Or do you go back to Ashmore Castle?’ His tone revealed that he hoped her answer to that would be no. Of all places, the Castle was the least likely to provide him with access to her.

‘I am minded to go to France. My sister and her family will be in Biarritz.’

His face lit. ‘But that is of all places the most agreeable, and the company is always superior. Dear countess, you should go to Biarritz. I myself have been considering to visit. My sister Tilde wrote to me but last week asking where I would recommend that she take her children, and I said, “By all means go to Biarritz.” She will take a large villa, and will like that I go to stay with her for as many weeks as I can spare. And if your sister will think to release you at any time, I know Tilde would be delighted to ask you to stay also. I am of the wish that she should meet you.’

‘Your sister moves in the best circles, I suppose,’ Maud said cautiously.

‘Her husband, the Graf von Lippstadt, is connected to many great families,’ he said simply.

‘Ah, yes, I have heard of him,’ Maud said. ‘I think I will go to Biarritz. Rachel will benefit from the sea air.’

They had reached a prominence, and Usingen halted his horse, forcing Maud to rein in as well. The others were pulling further ahead. ‘And you, dear countess, will you benefit?’ he said seriously. ‘If I ask you once again to marry me, will you give me an answer? I have proved my constancy, I think, and my dedication to your family.’

She felt a pang. If she kept putting him off, perhaps he would stop asking, and she didn’t want that. She had pretty much decided that marriage to him was the way out of her difficulties. Now there was a second child at Ashmore, the line was secured and Kitty, if she survived, would be firmly ensconced. There was no place for her there. She wanted to be the mistress of her own house again, not a hanger-on. But there was the problem of Rachel. ‘I would like to give you an answer,’ she said, ‘but my daughter is not yet betrothed.’

‘That must not be a difficulty!’ he cried. He tried to take her hand, but his horse, fidgeting, moved him further away from her at that instant and the gesture failed. He had to grab the pommel to rebalance himself. ‘Dear countess,’ he went on earnestly, ‘only marry me, and I shall make sure meine liebe Stieftochter shall meet the best that Europe has to offer. She shall be married soon, mit Herrlichkeit, just as you could wish.’

‘Yes,’ Maud said. She could see it. A foreign noble – they were always impressed by English titles, and Rachel’s beauty spoke for itself. A German prince, even a Russian grand duke would not be out of the question. Usingen was very rich, and if she married him he would pay to present Rachel in the best style. Visions of cathedrals, archbishops and coronets drifted through her mind.

‘Yes?’ he queried. ‘Do you mean yes, you will marry me?’

‘Let us see,’ she said. ‘We will go to Biarritz, we will meet your sister, and perhaps in a few weeks’ time I shall be able to give you my answer.’

Usingen looked as though he wished to kiss her hand fervently, but his horse would not be persuaded to move closer to Maud’s, which was a mare, and prone to biting.

The Tullamores were leaving two days before the closing of the house, at which time the Tallants would have to go. There was a final carriage outing to Loch Gynack for boating and a picnic, and Rachel and Angus managed to separate themselves from the party. They walked through a wood to a sheltered spot by the lake’s edge where they could sit and talk.

‘Even if you were staying, I couldn’t,’ Angus said gloomily. ‘Father says there’s work to do, and it can’t be all holiday. We have to go home. But then in October he’s taking me to Edinburgh to learn how the office there runs. That’s what he says, at least, but I happen to know the Huntleys will be in Edinburgh in October, and I bet he’s meaning to throw me together with Diana, in the hope that I’ll go mad and propose to her.’

‘You won’t, will you?’ Rachel asked anxiously.