Page 57 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

‘We all need you, Moss – we need you to get well. That’s the important thing. And that means rest and quiet. So you are not to worry about anything, do you hear me?’

Moss’s eyes filled with tears, which upset Giles even more. It was so far from the stately, unflappable Moss he knew. ‘Will I lose my position?’ he asked.

‘Of course not,’ Giles said soothingly. ‘The very idea. As if Ashmore Castle could carry on without you. You must concentrate on getting well again.’

‘Yes,’ Moss whispered, but he looked confused. He rubbed his hand over his mouth in a feeble, absent sort of way. ‘There was someone else. Someone—’

At that moment, there was a disturbance further down the ward. A nurse at a bedside, bending over a patient, called, ‘Sister! Can you come?’ Rapidly screens were drawn round the bed and the sister disappeared inside. After a moment she and the nurse came out and walked off in different directions, but the screens remained. Giles, for some reason, was sure that the occupant of the bed had just died. This was not a good place for Moss, he decided, with the evidence of mortal decay all around.

The sister came back to him to say, ‘Forgive me, my lord, but it would be better to leave the patient to sleep now.’

Giles turned to her, away from Moss, and said quietly, ‘Can he be moved? Would it be better for him to be taken home?’

‘Not at present,’ she said regretfully, reluctant to refuse him anything. ‘We need to keep him sedated for the first two weeks. An episode of this sort is sometimes followed by a second, more serious. If that happened, it would be better if he were here.’

Giles saw the point. ‘After that, then?’

‘If all goes well, he could be moved somewhere else to recuperate. But he will need care from a trained nurse. And it is likely to be a long time before he can resume work – if he ever does.’

Giles nodded. ‘Very well. I’ll just say goodbye.’ He turned back to Moss, who seemed to be drifting off to sleep, leaned close and said quietly, ‘Goodbye for now, Moss. Don’t worry about anything. It will all be taken care of.’

Moss muttered something, and seemed to be drifting deeper. But then his eyes flew open, and he cried in alarm, ‘Ada!’

Giles was turning away. ‘What is it, old fellow?’ he asked, leaning over again.

‘Ada was with me. The housemaid. What happened to her? Where is she?’

‘She was brought home all safe and sound. Don’t worry.’

‘She must have been so scared,’ Moss said, tears gathering again. ‘Tell her – tell her . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘Tell her I’m all right,’ Moss said, with a shuddering sigh. He looked up at Giles drearily, as though all light had gone from the world.

‘I will,’ Giles said.

A few moments later he was back outside in the sunshine, and found himself breathing deeply and with a strange urge to run, like someone let out of prison. He was suddenly seeing the episode from Moss’s point of view, realising how fragile a servant’s life was. Illness and old age were an existential threat to someone who had no family, no resources, no financial buffer to fall back on. Work was everything – not an agreeable pastime but the absolute essential for existence. If you couldn’t work, there was nowhere to go. All that waited for you was the workhouse, and death.

‘Oh, the poor man!’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘He must be so worried. You did reassure him, Giles? You told him we would take care of him?’

‘I told him not to worry,’ Giles said. ‘But it looks as though he won’t be able to work again for some time. And he’ll need nursing.’

‘We can hire a trained nurse,’ Kitty said. ‘He’ll be better off at home, at any rate. Hospitals are dreadful places.’

Giles shook his head, remembering. ‘It was depressing, all right. But it looks like being an expensive business, nursing him back to health. And there’s no knowing if he’ll ever be fit enough to take up his old position.’

Kitty looked alarmed. ‘What are you saying? You can’t mean to abandon him, after all these years of service!’ Giles didn’t answer. ‘What about all those old servants who are paid pensions by the estate?’

‘A pension is one thing – it’s a small sum of money, and they look after themselves. Taking full care of him for month after month will be far more expensive.’

‘And what will happen to him if we don’t?’ she asked.

It was a mild enough question, but her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed with determination. He was reminded, with a pang, of that moment on their honeymoon when she had turned on him and demanded to be treated with respect. The difference now was that her hands were cupped protectively over her belly as she spoke. Still, he wanted to tell her she was prettier than ever, and that being roused suited her. For a moment he wished she weren’t pregnant, because they were alone in her bedroom and he wanted her.

‘The workhouse, I suppose. I don’t think he has any family.’

‘I don’t think you would actually know, would you?’