Page 8 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘Of course I do. But I couldn’t help it. There was nothing I could do. I talked to her for a quarter-hour but she just stared at nothing, as if she didn’t know I was there. And then they led her away, like – like a big child.’ He looked at her. ‘She’s my only kin. Our parents are dead, and now she’s gone.’

‘That’s what happens,’ Rose said briskly. If he wanted her to feel sorry for him he was out of luck. ‘When your parents die there’s no home to go back to. I’ll never see my brothers again. That’s how it is. But you’re not so bad off. You’re a man, you’ve got a house and a job. You could get married if you wanted.’

As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them. What a thing to bring up!

He laughed, and the dogs ran back to see what he wanted. But he only said, ‘Oh, Miss Hawkins, you’re such an original!’ And then he changed the subject. ‘That train crash up at New Ashmore, that was a terrible thing.’

She was more comfortable talking about that. There had hardly been another subject in the servants’ hall. It seemed the local down train had just started out of the station when the fast up train had come off the rails on the curved section just before the station and smashed into it. That much was known for a fact. But since both drivers and firemen had perished there was no-one to give a definitive account, and theories as to the cause abounded: the up train was late and the driver had been going too fast; he was drunk; he had suffered a heart attack and died; a wheel on the locomotive had broken; there was a section of loose rail that had derailed the train. One ingenious ‘eye witness’ had seen men fighting on the footplate; another had seen the driver and fireman jump from the cab just before it reached the curve.

Latest reports said that twenty-five people had been killed and thirty-eight injured badly enough to be taken to the hospital. It was such a serious accident that reporters had been sent down from the London papers, and the village had been crawling with visitors of a ghoulish turn of mind.

‘We had people from the papers turn up at the Castle,’ Rose told Woodrow. ‘They must have been told about his lordship and Mr Richard and Lady Alice helping out, and came wanting pieces to put in their papers. His lordship refused to see them, so then they tried to talk to us below stairs.’ She tossed her head indignantly. ‘As if any of us wanted our names in the papers!’

Woodrow said, ‘I suspect there might be one or two who wouldn’t mind.’

She shrugged. ‘In any case, Mr Moss saw them off. He gave them the sharp side of his tongue, and told Frederick to chuck ’em out. Well, Frederick’s a big chap, so those paper men hopped it with their tails between their legs. I almost felt sorry for ’em.’

‘Only almost? They were only doing their job, weren’t they?’

‘Then they should get another job. I don’t pity them. They just wanted talk about blood and such.’

‘You’re very fierce,’ Woodrow said admiringly. ‘I heard there was one of the estate people who was a real hero – Axe Brandom?’

‘Oh, yes. We heard a lot about him from the tradesmen coming up. And Allsuch, the under-gardener, told our Daisy those paper men had come sniffing round the outdoor staff asking about him, wanting to know where he lived so they could go and talk to him.’

‘I had one come and ask me the same thing,’ said Woodrow. ‘But there’s been nothing in the papers bar his name, so I suppose they couldn’t find him. Living in that cottage right up in Motte Woods…’

‘Those London men’d never walk that far,’ Rose said with a sniff. ‘Uphill as well. And they’d get lost in a wood.’

‘Is he all right, though – Brandom? I haven’t heard.’

‘Josh – you know, his brother that’s one of our grooms – he said he’s laid up in his cottage with a strained back. Can’t work. He can just get about enough to feed his animals. But Josh said he’ll mend all right in a week or so.’ She added, in an impressed tone, ‘His lordship went to see him, did you know?’

‘Is that right?’

‘He did. Went up there himself, in person, right up to the cottage, to shake Axe’s hand and tell him well done.’

Woodrow said, ‘I don’t really know Axe Brandom, except by reputation, but I suspect he wouldn’t take kindly to a lot of fuss.’

‘You’re right there,’ Rose said. ‘He never says much when he comes up to the house with logs. Solitary sort of chap. He’s never married, nor even walked out that I’ve ever heard, though he’s a good-looking man that girls’d be foolish over.’

‘Good-looking, is he? You’re making me jealous,’ Woodrow said, smiling.

She gave him a hard look. ‘Don’t you start getting soppy! I said I’d go for a walk with you, but if there’s to be any nonsense, I shall turn around and go home.’

‘Am I not allowed even a little bit of soppiness?’

‘Not a bit. I won’t have it.’

‘You’re a hard woman. Here, the path’s slippery just here, I can’t have you going over and getting muddy. Take my arm.’ He crooked it towards her.

‘You think that’ll soften me up?’ she said suspiciously.

‘Not at all. Your hardness is what I admire most about you,’ he said. ‘You’re like a diamond. Nobody would want a soft diamond, would they?’

‘You’re daft, you are,’ Rose said. But she took his arm.

Richard was riding out to visit The Bottoms, where the Ordes had reported several cases of mastitis. He was riding on a loose rein with little attention, but his recently acquired road horse, the brown mare Nesta, was very calm and reliable. He had bought her for that reason: in his position as Giles’s estate agent he needed to be able to leave her tied up anywhere while he conducted business.