Page 79 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘I can’t contemplate a life without work, sir,’ Angus said. ‘It’s what I was brought up to. I hope you can find a place in your organisation for me.’

‘Well, now, I’m right glad to hear that. I was already thinking you’d served your articles and were ready for a proper test. I was thinking of asking you to run the whole shipping and export side for me. But if you’ve a fortune, perhaps you’d like to invest some of it? Mebbe we should be talking about a partnership?’

‘That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear,’ Angus said.

‘Aye, you’re young, but you’ve an old head on your shoulders. Well, that’s for discussion, and we should have the lawyers present while we do it, so we’ll see to it in London, if that suits you? And now from business to something of real importance! You must come and see my daughter.’

Angus smiled at Mr Cowling’s little joke – though scanning his face, he wasn’t sure it actually was a joke. ‘You have a daughter!’

‘Aye, my wife gave me a daughter. That word still gives me such a thrill, you can’t imagine! Come upstairs and have a look at her.’ It was obvious from his voice that he felt he was bestowing a rare treat.

Like most men, Angus was at a loss when confronted with a very new baby. The infant was couched in extravagant billows of white, with nothing more to be seen than two tiny fists resting either side of a tiny face.

‘They say she’ll favour me,’ Cowling said, ‘though how women can tell anything at this stage beats me. I’m hoping she’s going to favour my wife. Isn’t she perfect? Isn’t she beautiful?’

The baby looked to Angus exactly like every other baby he had ever seen – and coming from a numerous family he had seen a few. Round face, not much chin, tiny pursed mouth and snub nose. The eyes were tightly closed and there was a slight frown between them, as though young Miss Cowling was working out difficult sums and didn’t want to be interrupted. But he noticed the perfect, unused, nacreous skin, delicately flushed, exquisite as a miniature painted on ivory, and was able to say with convincing honesty, ‘Yes, sir, she is.’

Cowling was pleased. ‘I can’t ask you to pay your respects to Mrs Cowling because she’s still confined, and sleeping at this time of day into the bargain. But I’ll convey them for you.’

The day nurse, who had been hovering, decided they’d been allowed enough adoration and urged them to go away, and with a last lingering look, Cowling led his guest downstairs.

When they reached the drawing-room again he said, ‘I’ve just remembered – and excuse me for not asking before – but your father, God rest him, forbade you to marry that pretty lass, Lady Rachel, didn’t he? What’s to do there, now you’re independent?’

‘I have asked her to marry me, and she said yes,’ Angus said, flushing a little at the memory that he had gone there first and not here first, which Cowling would be entitled to resent – though it didn’t seem as if he’d resent anything in his present mood. ‘She’ll be of age next month, so there’s nothing to stand in our way.’

‘And when’s it to be?’

‘October.’

‘Aye, there’s no need to rush now, is there? You’ve time to do everything by order and please the ladies. Well, my heartiest congratulations, Sir Angus. She’s a sweet-faced girl and will make you a likely wife.’

‘Thank you, sir. And now I’d better get back to London and see what’s going on at the office.’

‘Oh, no need to dash away. Won’t you stay?’

‘If you’ll forgive me, I’ve been absent long enough already. I must try to bring myself up to date, if I’m to be of any use to you.’

He didn’t really want to remain à deux with Mr Cowling: he had a feeling that his employer would talk about nothing but the baby, and that he was capable of doing that for hours together.

Nina heard about Angus’s visit only after he had gone. Mr Cowling believed confinement meant no visitors but close family – and then only females. When she had pointed out that she had no close family except her aunt, he had allowed that Bobby was almost family. And having exempted Bobby, Mr Cowling had to admit Lady Clemmie, who brought a beautiful Georgian silver porringer and spoon for the baby and a large bouquet of stocks for the mother, which Mr Cowling said afterwards showed she was a real lady.

Nina had enjoyed doing nothing for a week, but she was young and resilient and the second week loomed ahead of her like a prison sentence. Fortunately, Dr Nicholson was relatively young, and when Nina questioned the necessity of lying down for six weeks, he said, ‘That’s rather an old-fashioned view that I don’t entirely subscribe to. When the mother is young and healthy, I believe it can be beneficial for her to get up and move around, provided she rests and does nothing strenuous.’

‘I wish you would say so to Mr Cowling,’ Nina said. ‘The nurse told him if I stood up before six weeks my insides would fall out, and I think he believed her.’

Nicholson laughed. ‘There are a lot of these old wives’ tales connected with childbirth. People like to make a mystery of it. With an older mother, there is a risk of prolapse. And with some of my less well-off patients, I prescribe a long convalescence because that’s the only rest they get from domestic chores and childcare.’

‘That’s kind of you.’

‘And I shall be kind to you by saying you may get out of bed and potter about gently for an hour or two each day. No bending or lifting and don’t be energetic. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.’

He obviously spoke to Cowling on the way out, because shortly afterwards Cowling appeared in her room and said anxiously, ‘Nicholson said it wouldn’t hurt you to get up for a bit, but I’m worried he’s too young to know what’s what.’

‘He must be nearly forty,’ Nina pointed out.

‘Aye, but that’s nothing in doctor-years. Maybe we should get a consultant down from London for a second opinion.’

‘I believe you pay Dr Nicholson a great deal to know his business,’ said Nina. ‘And I feel well and strong. I promise I’ll be careful, but if I have to lie in bed for another five weeks I shall lose my mind and you’ll have to have me locked up in an expensive asylum.’