Page 107 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

‘I’m quite sure you remember every piece of silver in the closet, Mr Moss, with your magnificent grasp of detail. No-one has a mind like yours – you are much missed every day, you know.’

While laying on the flattery, Afton pushed the log gently at him, and Moss took it automatically, while still murmuring that he didn’t know, really. As he began to leaf through it, his attention was caught, and he picked out pieces to comment on. ‘Oh, the Indian epergne! We had that out for Lady Linda’s wedding, filled with roses, pink and white. Looked a treat, it did! Made to commemorate the old Queen when she was named Empress of India. All the big houses had Empire parties that year . . . Ah, the silver name holders. Her ladyship – her dowager ladyship – never liked them. Thought it a vulgar idea. Like a boarding-school, she said once. And they’re only plated, not the real thing . . . The silver chargers, now: they were for when they used to have service à la Russe in the old days. You took them off with the soup bowl. There was a service of fifty originally, for banquets, but there’s only a dozen now. The rest got sold. Might as well have sold the lot, I say, because when would you use them, with only twelve at table?’

‘It’s the less often used pieces, Mr Moss, where the problem is. The real antiques.’

‘Oh, we used to have a beautiful nef when I first came, old as the hills. Enormous great thing in the shape of a galleon, took two to lift it, and the detail! All the rigging and flags and little people on the deck, and even a tiny anchor hanging over the side to stop it rolling! Last used for the Golden Jubilee banquet, just as a decoration. Got sold since then, though, sadly. I’ve an idea it ended up at Waddesdon.’

‘Just so. Could you have a look through, see if you can spot anything that’s not been logged?’

‘Hmm. Hmm. Wait a minute!’ He was running his finger down the pages towards the back of the register now, and stopped, went back, went forward, and frowned. ‘There should be two Charles the second silver sugar casters – they’re not down here.’ He went back and forward again, painstakingly. ‘No, they should be on the list. I remember seeing them when we did the inventory, because I commented that I was surprised they hadn’t been sold, given they’re never used. Too big, you see. Got forgotten at the back of the cupboard, I suppose. I don’t know why they’re not on the list, because they’re definitely there.’

‘Thanks. I’ll see the register gets corrected. Anything else?’

‘Hmm. Hmm. Wait, now – yes, there should be a set of six silver-gilt berry spoons. George the second they were, James and Josiah Williams, 1854. We had them out for Lady Alice’s christening, but not since. The silver of ’em was getting so thin, the edge was like a razor – you could cut your tongue on it. They were in a green morocco case with a black velvet lining.’

‘Anything else?’

‘I can’t see any more, but that’s enough, isn’t it? Reflects very bad on me when the plate book’s not kept up proper.’

‘Well, mistakes will happen. This isn’t your handwriting, is it?’

‘No, it was William took the things out of the cupboards, I called out the descriptions, and James wrote them down. Hook, as he now is. How could he miss things out?’

‘It’s easy to lose concentration when you’re doing a long job like that.’

‘A good servant never loses concentration,’ Moss said indignantly. ‘But these youngsters – careless, sloppy work! In my day—’

The maid, Betty, poked her head round the door. ‘Beg pardon, Mr Moss, front door. Cook says d’you want me to go?’

‘Certainly not. I shall attend to it,’ said Moss, heaving himself up.

‘I’ll slip away, Mr Moss, don’t want to get in your way. Thank you for your help. And I’ll give them all your regards up at the Castle.’

‘Yes – yes, do. Very well,’ Moss said vaguely, as he bustled out, his mind clearly flown to his present duties and the necessity of squashing lowly general maids.

Richard arrived at Golden Square and showed himself up – Mrs Gateshill, the landlady, was always glad of an excuse not to climb the stairs. He entered the room into what was plainly an Atmosphere. He looked from Molly Sands to her daughter Chloë, and said bluntly, ‘What’s happened?’

‘Good afternoon, Mr Tallant, yes-thank-you-we-are-quite-well,’ Molly prompted.

He shook his head. ‘I’m not an idiot. I can see you’re upset. Have you been quarrelling?’

‘Of course not,’ Chloë answered, before Molly could speak. ‘Mother and I never quarrel.’

‘We’ve had some news,’ Molly said. She intercepted a look from her daughter, and said, ‘He’ll have to know sooner or later. And I’d like his opinion.’

‘Well, then, I’ll tell it,’ Chloë said firmly. ‘You’ll try to make it sound bad.’ She turned to face Richard squarely. ‘Sir Thomas has offered me a flat.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Now the new term has started at the college, he would like me to move into a flat he owns.’

‘Just you?’ Richard asked pointedly, with a glance at Molly.

‘You’ve gone straight to the heart of it,’ Molly said. ‘When a rich gentleman wants to put a young girl into a flat—’

‘“Put”? You see, I knew that’s what you would do!’ Chloë interrupted, with a spark of anger. Her usually porcelain face took on a touch of colour. ‘Listen to me, Richard. He has a service flat in a block behind the Albert Hall. An elderly aunt used to live there, and when she died, he didn’t dispose of it, in case he ever needed it—’

‘To house his paramours?’ Richard asked lightly.