Page 127 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

‘His lordship’s valet taking over as butler.’

‘Oh. How did you hear about that?’

He smiled as if she should have known. ‘The Castle servants in the churchyard after service, talking about nothing else.’

‘Was it glad talk or the opposite?’ she wanted to know.

‘Bit of glad, bit of surprise, bit of doubtful, but nobody’s unhappy,’ Axe told her. ‘He’s generally liked, is Mr Afton. But they didn’t see it coming, him being only a valet.’

‘Well, but after all, Hook was valet before he became butler.’

‘Ah, but Hook was footman first, and that’s the usual way up the ladder – footman, under-butler, butler. That way you know the job.’ He brought the teapot to the table. ‘Shall I pour?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Strong, not much milk. I know.’

‘Giles says Afton’s so intelligent he’ll learn the job in no time.’

Axe gave an amused snort. ‘Don’t tell your footmen that. People don’t like to hear their jobs are so easy anyone can learn ’em in five minutes. They like to think a lifetime of experience can’t be replaced.’

‘Well, ours aren’t very experienced, except for William, and he’s too dull to want to be butler. Anyway, Kitty says Mrs Webster will tell Afton anything he needs to know. And he’s served in big houses all his life – he’s bound to know what the duties are.’

‘And there’s no chance of Mr Moss coming back?’

‘No. I think that’s what everyone would have liked, but no.’

‘I see him walking Miss Eddowes to church Sunday, holding the umbrella over her. Seems like he’s got a sweet billet there. She’s a nice lady. Shame she never married. She was the prettier one of the two sisters.’ Axe had been boot-boy in the Eddowes household long ago. ‘And she inherited a good bit from her father, so she could have married anyone. But some folk just aren’t made that way. Same with horses. Lord Bexley at the Grange – old Lord Bexley, I mean, not the current one – had a prize mare, beautiful creature she was, bay thoroughbred, that he wanted to breed from. Any foal of hers would have been worth a fortune. But she wouldn’t let the stallion near her. Tried her with different studs, but she just wouldn’t have it. Some females are made that way, for God’s own purposes, whatever they may be. Nothing to be done about it.’

He pushed her mug across to her. She had already cut a piece of cheese, and now laid it carefully on a slice of bread, taking care to line up the edges. ‘I sometimes wonder if perhaps I’m like that,’ she said.

He looked at her bent head, as she was apparently completely absorbed in what was on her plate, and his smile, had she been able to see it, was tender and sad.

‘You? No, not a bit of it,’ he said. She glanced up, then quickly down again, as one snatches a hand away from an unexpectedly hot surface. ‘Give it time,’ he said. ‘Things change sudden, and you’ve no inkling about it beforehand. Hear what happened up at Shelloes a week past? Young Danny Gregory was playing on top of the haystack with his brother. He fell off, landed on a hayfork and one of the tines went into his heart. Killed him straight off.’

‘Oh, how dreadful! I hadn’t heard.’

‘Point is, nobody knew that morning it was going to happen. Life hits you sudden, like lightning – sometimes bad things, sometimes good. And you’re too young, begging your pardon, my lady, to be saying “never” about anything. Like some pickle with that? Got a jar of our Ruth’s apple chutney, go nice with the cheese.’

She laughed. ‘From life and death to pickles.’

‘Too much serious talk’s not good for a person.’ He got up and went to the dresser to fetch the chutney. ‘Heard a rumour,’ he said, coming back and sitting down, ‘about your mother going to be married again.’

‘However did you hear that?’

‘Is it supposed to be a secret? Marriage is a public thing.’

‘Well, I think we’re not talking about it yet.’

He gave small, cat-like smile. ‘Someone’s talked, because I heard it in the village.’

‘Who from?’

‘Not saying. It’s true then?’ He studied her a moment. ‘Do you mind it?’

‘Mind? No, of course not,’ she said. He continued to regard her, chewing impassively, watching her think. ‘I think it’s strange,’ she allowed at last, ‘and I don’t know anything about the man, but she must love him, I suppose, because she doesn’t need to get married. And if it makes her happy – that can only be a good thing, can’t it? I don’t think she was ever happy before, not while I’ve known her.’

‘Sounds funny, you saying “not while I’ve known her”, as if she wasn’t anything to do with you.’