Page 63 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

She actually blushed. He was just being kind. ‘He told me all about g’raffes and things.’

‘What’s g’raffes?’ George asked suspiciously.

‘Animals, sort of. At the zoo. With long necks. And there was – camiles and things. And a lot of fish. But then he was took ill.’

‘Yeah, we heard about that. What happened?’

Ada frowned with the effort of composing a narrative. ‘We was going to have tea. Then he sort of – went all funny. And he sort of fainted. Only it wasn’t a faint, it was a heart tack, or something. They say.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I didn’t do nothing. A lady and gentleman was there that looked after Mr Moss. And somebody fetched a policeman and he sorted it all out. They took Mr Moss away and another policeman took me home.’

‘You must’ve been scared,’ George said warmly, stepping closer.

Brigid, the senior kitchen-maid, appeared and said, ‘What are you two up to? Ada, get back to your work. And you – you’re not supposed to be here.’

‘Waiting for the veg basket to take back.’

‘That’s not your job.’

‘Helpin’ out,’ he said boldly.

She gave him a hard, suspicious look, and said, ‘All right, I’ll get it. Then you can clear off. Don’t you know we’ve got a new butler, and he doesn’t like boys messing about?’

She went inside, and George, realising he had to be quick, actually caught hold of Ada’s hand. She recoiled in surprise and looked at him with wide eyes, but he didn’t gather she minded too much. ‘I’m glad you’re back,’ he said. ‘I been thinking about you a lot since you went to London. Thinking I wouldn’t see you again. How about you and me walking out?’

‘Don’t mind,’ she said shyly, looking down.

‘When’s your afternoon off?’

‘Wensdy. When’s yours?’

‘I’ll make it be Wensdy, don’t you worry. I’ll meet you at the gate and we’ll go for a walk. All right?’

She nodded. Then, feeling some encouragement was called for, she added, ‘I didn’t want to go to the zoo with him.’ And then, bravely, ‘I’d sooner go out with you than him.’

Brigid returned with the basket, which she thrust into George’s arms. ‘There! Now hook it. And you, Ada, you’d better not let Mrs Webster catch you hanging around the kitchen. She’s in enough of a mood with Mr Moss gone and a new butler to cope with.’

Ada scuttled away, her heart singing. No more old Mr Moss learning her about elephants and Egypt and stuff, and George wanting to walk out with her! Everything in her garden was rosy.

Hook – formerly James, now Mister Hook – was coming along Piccadilly, saw her dash out of the kitchen and away, and was about to shout at her, but then changed his mind. It would be good to have something over Mrs Webster, who was responsible for the maids’ behaviour. She had made clear her dislike of his promotion. She had even let him see incredulity, which was insulting, as though it was hard to believe that he could be a butler! They were all going to have to pay attention to him now. That old fool Moss was never coming back – and if he did, Hook would see him off in short time! This was his kingdom now, and no-one was going to take it away from him.

‘Home again,’ said Alice, eagerly, as the carriage pulled up in front of the great door. In the way that would have scandalised her mother, she did not wait for the groom but opened the door on her side and jumped down, looking round with pleasure and breathing deeply of the fresh country air. From this terrace there was a wonderful view down the hill, across Canons Ashmore and along the Ash valley in all its early summer verdure. Then the doors to the house were opened, there was a grey-brown flash of movement, and she was almost knocked down by the dogs, discovering her again with ever-renewable delight.

Kitty, of course, waited for the steps and allowed herself to be helped down. She looked up at the house and felt glad to be home, too. She pushed to the back of her mind the small shadow that Giles was staying on in London for a few more days. London contained Giulia Lombardi. He had not said anything about her since the ball, but Kitty had no confidence that he would not see her again. She was so beautiful and fascinating, and all the romantic novels spoke about the hot-blooded passion of the Italian race. Could a normal man resist the temptation if it was placed in his way? Well, the romantic novels were pretty clear about that.

She shook away the thought. Mrs Webster and Hook had come out onto the steps to receive her, and the ceremony gave her a little thrill. Giles would have had all the servants lined up for him, but she was satisfied with her share. For perhaps the first time, she really felt like the Countess of Stainton. This place was hers now – and she belonged to it, too.

Mrs Webster got in first. ‘Welcome home, my lady,’ she said. And she smiled.

Hook did not smile. He was on his dignity.

Kitty had got used to Moss, and had liked the soothing continuity he represented. Hook, now in butler’s tailcoat and everyday black waistcoat and tie, looked strange: too thin, his figure not imposing enough, his skeletal face too avid, his eyes too insistent. There was nothing soothing about him. He looked as though he might suddenly do anything, whereas a butler like Moss looked as though he just was.

‘Welcome home, my lady,’ Hook said, a beat behind the housekeeper, but with an emphasis that said his welcome was the important one.

‘Thank you,’ Kitty said, treading carefully up the steps.