Page 109 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

A long time later, it seemed, the music stopped and he found himself leaning against the outside wall of the pub, shaking his head to clear it. A hard, rough hand was laid on his and Rose was in front of him. ‘Time to go home,’ she said. ‘Come on, Mr Moss, you and me can walk back together.’

‘But they haven’t gone away yet,’ he heard himself complain querulously.

‘Yes, they did. They just walked off to their cottage. Their friends went with ’em to see ’em home. That’s no place for old folk like us. Come on, I’ll hold you up.’

He pushed himself off the wall, and said, with all the dignity he could muster, ‘I am not in need of holding up, thank you.’

Afton appeared on his other side. ‘We ought to be getting back,’ he said. ‘Time’s getting on. I’ve got my gentleman to attend to, and you’ll be wanting to see about the wines for dinner, Mr Moss.’

It was a bit of a walk up the hill, and Moss found himself feeling very tired, and almost wishing his dignity would allow him to take an arm. It was getting dark, and a little foggy. He was glad the other two didn’t seem inclined to talk – he needed all his breath.

When they got back to the house, Afton said, ‘Why don’t you let Frederick see to things this evening, Mr Moss? You look all in.’

Rose said, ‘Mr Afton’s right. Frederick can manage. Take the evening off.’

He tried to freeze them with a look, but his face felt strangely rubbery and out of control. What he really wanted was to seek the privacy of his room and cry, but he was butler in this house and he had to lead by example. ‘I shall do no such thing. I am going to my room to change my clothing, then I shall return and do my duty. And you should do the same.’

Rose shrugged and walked away. Afton gave him a considering look and said, ‘Would you like me to help you change? Studs and links can be fiddly when you’re tired.’

‘I am not tired, thank you, Mr Afton. Go about your duties, if you please.’

He was aware that some of that sentence sounded a little blurred, but all he needed was a little sit-down, then he’d be fine. He was always fine. He had to be fine. He was the butler of Ashmore Castle.

Mrs Webster glanced through a door and saw Frederick decanting wine. ‘Did Mr Moss tell you to do that?’

He didn’t take his eyes from the neck of the bottle with the candle flame behind it; his hands steady as rocks. ‘I went to his room and he was fast asleep, so I’m doing the service this evening.’

‘That’s not your decision to make.’ Much as she liked Frederick – or, rather, liked his qualities, because he wasn’t a person you could get close to – she thought he sometimes needed taking down a peg.

He got to the end of the bottle, put it down, and turned to her. ‘You could try and wake him up, but I wouldn’t. He’s worn out. That wedding was too much for him.’

‘We shall see,’ she said, and spun on her heel.

‘Have a heart,’ Frederick said, following her. ‘Let the poor old boy sleep.’

She drew a sharp breath at the impertinence. ‘Mr Moss is butler in this house, and you will not refer to him in that manner.’

Moss’s door was closed, and she tapped politely and then opened it. He was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. He was still in his wedding suit, though he had taken off his jacket, collar and tie. ‘Mr Moss,’ she said. ‘Are you awake?’ There was no response.

‘See?’ Frederick murmured behind her.

She backed out and closed the door. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you can do everything?’

‘Course I am,’ he said, with a butlerish lift of the head. ‘I’ve done it all before.’

‘All right, then,’ she said.

It was very early when Giles was woken by Afton. He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. ‘What time is it?’

‘Just after six. I’m sorry to wake you so early, but we have a situation downstairs,’ Afton said, proffering Giles’s dressing-gown.

‘Then deal with it,’ Giles said, lying down again.

‘I think you ought to come, my lord,’ Afton said immovably. ‘It’s Mr Moss.’

Dr Arbogast came out of the butler’s room to where Giles was waiting. ‘Dead some time,’ he reported. ‘Who found him?’

‘I did, sir,’ Frederick said. ‘I wondered why he hadn’t appeared and went and knocked on his door. There was no answer so I went in and there he was, still in the clothes from the wedding, sitting exactly the way he was yesterday evening when I decided to take over dinner service.’