Page 142 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

Oh, it’s Angus, is it? he thought. He remembered him vaguely from the ball – a well-built, fair young man. The thought crossed his mind that they would make very pretty babies, and he was surprised at himself.

‘I think,’ he said judiciously – it was no use offering his mother emotional arguments – ‘that it won’t do much good showing Rachel to prospective suitors when she’s in this sort of mood. She’s unhappy and depressed. All she’ll do is put them off. First impressions last, you know.’

He saw his mother take the point. ‘What are you proposing?’ she asked, with a hint of impatience.

‘Perhaps she’s just over-tired. I suggest Kitty and I take her home with us for a rest. We’ll have a family Christmas, and then it will get very quiet. When she discovers how dull it is at Ashmore, she’ll soon start pining for the sort of life you’re offering. She’ll come back to you refreshed and ready to fall in with your plans. And, meanwhile, you and Usingen will have a little time together to get to know each other.’

‘We know each other quite well enough, thank you,’ said Maud, but he could see she was thinking about it. ‘We could alter the order of our tour,’ she said, after a moment. ‘Visit the relatives with no eligible sons first. But Usingen says we must see Petersburg in the snow, which means by February, before the thaw. You could have her for Christmas and through January.’

‘January is a very dull month,’ Giles said encouragingly.

‘Very well. You may be right, Stainton. This might work in all our interests. Of course,’ her gaze sharpened, ‘I look to you to see that there are no clandestine meetings between her and Angus. Or correspondence.’

‘Of course,’ said Giles.

‘Then I shall speak to Usingen. It will mean letters to be written, telegrams to be sent. A great deal of trouble all round.’

‘But worth it, for your daughter’s happiness.’

‘Happiness is overrated,’ she said. ‘Many people get through life perfectly well without it.’

‘All the same—’

She waved him away. ‘You may go. Ring the bell on your way out, and I will send for Usingen now.’

Giles obeyed, noting as he left that it was for the prince to attend on her, not vice versa. Start as you mean to go on was a good precept for married life.

Alice thought it was lovely having Rachel back, and to have Christmas to plan for – like the old days, but better, because their mother had never been a great one for Christmas. Even Linda, annoyed at having been dragged away from London, where she had been perching since being sent back from Biarritz, cheered up at the thought of some festivities, threw herself into planning, and took more notice of her children than for many years past. She even begged them a holiday from Miss Kettel to take them out riding – Miss Kettel, harbouring a cold, was glad to give in and take to the big armchair by the nursery fire, with a shawl and a novel and a handkerchief sprinkled with friar’s balsam.

Alice enjoyed long, cosy talks with Rachel – at least at first, until all the new matter had been gone through. But when it got to the point where every conversation became about Angus, when even playing with the babies became coloured with the putative future babies of Angus and Rachel, she began to be aware that having her sister at home and constantly demanding her attention curtailed her freedom.

She wanted to go and see Axe. She had a new book to lend him – The Call of the Wild by Jack London – which Giles had bought months ago and finally finished. She had borrowed it from him on her own behalf and had galloped through it. She thought Axe would enjoy it because it was about animals. And she had a Christmas present to give him – a sketch she had done of him, which she had been almost satisfied with. She had tinted the drawing with water-colours, and framed it, using the frame, glass and backing from an old print from the day-nursery. The print was an Ernest Nister of Little Boy Blue asleep in the hay with his horn on his lap. The print had torn slightly as she got it out, and she’d had to conceal it in her dresser drawer, but without remorse. She had always despised it, thinking the boy poor-spirited for letting the sheep wander, perhaps into harm’s way, while he dozed stupidly. You always put your animals’ comfort before your own, as she had been taught by Giddins when put astride her first pony at the age of three.

A day came when a grey sky and bitter cold outside had Rachel and Linda both retreating to the Peacock Room to share Kitty’s good fire. They all had work – Kitty embroidering a bib for Alexander, Rachel pin-tucking a blouse for herself, and Linda fiddling with a piece of crochet, which she had been intending as a hat for one of her children but, since it seemed to have a mind of its own and kept going out of shape, might end up as a scarf instead.

Alice watched them for a moment, contemplated drawing the group, and then, restless, said, ‘I think I’ll go for a ride. Does anyone want to come?’

‘Too cold,’ said Rachel, without looking up.

Linda didn’t even reply. Kitty looked up and smiled, but said, ‘Not me. Are you sure you want to go out? It’s not a nice day at all.’

‘Can’t stay in,’ Alice said. ‘I’ve been sitting too long.’

She had underestimated how cold it was. When she stepped out of the side door, the nearest one to the stables, the freezing air bit her, like a spiteful dog, and she gasped as the first breath seared her lungs. The stable yard was deserted, the grooms all having retreated inside. Even the yard dog was inside his kennel and declined to come out or bark. Someone must have alerted Josh to her presence, because he came limping out of the tack-room, letting out a cloud of smoke. They had lit a lamp in there, probably more for the warmth than the light, but its yellow glow spilling onto the frost-rimed cobbles made the grey day look darker.

‘I’m going for a ride,’ Alice told him.

He hunched into his collar and said, ‘It’s too cold, my lady. I think it’s going to snow.’

‘It’s not. And I’ll be warm enough when I’m moving.’

‘D’you want me to come with you, my lady?’ Josh asked, clearly hoping for the answer no.

She almost said yes, just to tease him, but that would not answer her purposes. ‘No. And you don’t have to saddle Pharaoh – I’ll do it myself. Just hand me out his tack.’

Josh hesitated, clearly tempted, but said, ‘I’ll do it, my lady.’

Pharaoh, annoyed at being dragged from his warm stable, laid back his ears sharply as he was led out, and nipped, his breath making clouds. When Josh pulled up the girths, he cow-kicked. While Josh tried to throw her up into the saddle, he skittered about, his hoofs slipping on the cobbles, and when she was up he tried to nap back to his stable. But she was glad she’d decided to go out. The cold was exhilarating: her cheeks stung with it, and she wanted to gallop.