Page 84 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘No suppose about it. You’ll be a butler still, in a respectable house. And Miss Eddowes will never see you want. Think yourself lucky. Some people end up in the workhouse.’

‘His lordship would never have let it come to that!’

‘There was no promises made. You don’t know what would have happened. Now you’ve got a settled future to look forward to. I hope you accepted.’

‘Of course I did. I—’ He swallowed a lump of reality and gathered himself. ‘I know I am fortunate.’

‘You are. When are you going there?’

‘I’m to go the day after tomorrow, as soon as my room’s been made ready and my things sent down from the Castle.’

‘Your things – yes. They’ve been packed up already,’ Rose said. ‘Hook’s moved into your room, and cleared your stuff out.’ She said it to ginger him up, but was sorry when she saw it was a shock.

‘Hook? But – but I thought he was only temporary. Surely he isn’t trying to step into my shoes?’

‘He’s trying to. Whether he’ll succeed . . .’

‘He’s not suitable, not at all. He’s not a butler. And he’s not a good person. Oh dear, oh dear, what will become of the Castle if he’s in charge?’

‘Well, it’s not your worry any more, so put it out of your mind and concentrate on Weldon House. I’ll make sure your things are sent down right away.’

‘My books,’ he said. ‘Make sure my books are sent. And my stamp collection. If Hook’s in my room, I don’t want him pawing over it. He’d put fingermarks all over everything – he wouldn’t know you’re not supposed to touch the stamps, except with tweezers. He might pick them up. He might—’ He couldn’t even put into words the horrors that Hook could inflict on a precious collection that had taken him his whole life to assemble. Suppose he spilled something over them?

‘I’ll see they’re put in,’ Rose said.

‘I’ll miss you all at the Castle,’ he said miserably.

‘We’ll see you when we come down to the village. It’s not as if you’re going to Timbuktu. You’ll be the big man at Weldon House – everyone will know you. And you’ll be more important to Miss Eddowes than you ever could be to his lordship. She’ll depend on you for everything.’

She was glad to see Moss straighten his shoulders. ‘You’re right,’ he said solemnly. ‘It’s a great responsibility. But one I am equal to. De forti egressa est dulcedo, as the poet says.’

‘What poet’s that, Mr Moss?’

‘You wouldn’t know him,’ Moss said, loftiness restored.

The dowager, Linda and Giles travelled back to the Castle together, having closed up the house, leaving Mrs Clegg and Job as caretakers. All the papers had been bundled together and sent off to the family solicitor in Frome Magna, who, with the help of a land agent, would settle the estate. Eventually they would report to Giles, who had no great hopes that there would be anything at all left. Probably the house would have to be sold, but who on earth would buy it? The bailiffs had called on the day after the funeral and, indifferent in the face of Linda’s fury, had warned that she could take nothing from the house but her own and the children’s clothes and their toys. Mrs Clegg had packed the trunks under the dowager’s eye, and they had been sent off to the railway station.

Linda and her mother were to stay a day or two at the Castle before going to London and thence to Scotland, where the children had already been taken by the cousins. Giles tried not to feel relief that his sister would be elsewhere for the summer, but family loyalty only went so far.

He found himself unexpectedly glad to be home. It was the contrast, of course, with Holme Manor, but it did not look nearly so much like a prison as he was driven up the hill from the station. He caught a glimpse of the valley road as they crossed it, looking good after the repair gang’s attentions. The milk scheme was really Richard’s baby, but he was interested in it, wanted to hear if anything new had happened.

It was startling to see Hook at the door in butler’s uniform to greet him. He really ought to do something about that. Hook was only supposed to be standing in, but he seemed to be giving himself the air of permanence, and Giles did not want him to be rewarded by default. He must enquire immediately about Moss’s state of health, and if he was not coming back, a permanent replacement must be found. And what, in that case, would he do with Moss? The man had been butler since his boyhood – he couldn’t just be turned out like a stray cat.

Kitty was there to greet him in the hall, and he stooped to kiss her cheek and ask if she was well. Behind her stood Uncle Sebastian and, to his surprise, Joseph Cowling. He had forgotten the Cowlings were coming to visit. He thought of Nina and felt a pang. ‘How do you do, Cowling?’ he said, shaking the hard, dry hand. ‘Are you here en garçon?’

‘How d’ye do, my lord? No, the wife is out riding with Lady Alice. Should have been back here to greet you, but you know what it is when young ladies get a-horseback – time flies out of the window. And Nina doesn’t get much riding at home.’

Mr Cowling had gone with her and Alice to the stable yard, and seen her mounted on Kitty’s horse, witnessed her delight, and had felt guilty that he had prevented her from riding at home. There had been good reason to begin with, but perhaps he had kept up the embargo too long. When they got home, he’d see about getting her a horse of her own – as long as it was understood she was to ride side-saddle and never any other way. She had looked very fine and elegant, dressed in a habit of Lady Alice’s, but she’d look even better in a new habit of her own, and mebbe one of those tall hats with a veil – he could see it all. Lady Alice rode side-saddle, of course, and he was sure it would never cross her mind not to. It was those modern ideas, Fabianism and suffragism, that were corrupting female minds, and he must keep an eye out, when they got home, that Nina didn’t get too caught up in them. If only, he thought wistfully, she had a little baby to occupy her mind . . . That was the natural state for females. Lady Kitty, for instance, was as feminine and proper a lady as you could wish to see.

The letter was brought to Giles in the drawing-room. ‘Well, this is excellent news,’ he said. ‘I’ve been wondering what to do about Moss, and now someone’s offered to take him off my hands.’ In courtesy, he explained to Mr Cowling. ‘Old family retainer, no longer fit to work.’

‘Aye, I remember Moss – the butler, wasn’t he? Grand old fellow.’

‘It must have been worrying you,’ Nina said.

‘Yes, it’s been nagging at my mind. One can’t just cast such people off.’