Page 82 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

In that silence Giles had noted her deep embarrassment and, in a moment of sympathy, declined to probe any further. ‘Well, God forbid I should force you to go if you don’t want to. It makes no difference to me – except that I’ll save a whole term of fees, which I can put towards the expense of Rachel’s wedding.’

Rachel, who had been concentrating on a piece of toast, apparently far away in her thoughts, had actually been concentrating on the matter in discussion. On the one hand, she was still very afraid of her mother; on the other hand, she had been at the Castle for weeks now, and was longing for a change of scene, for fun and parties. She loved weddings, and this one promised to be on a lavish scale. And it would be interesting to see how they were done in Germany: one might pick up some useful ideas.

When Giles mentioned her name, everyone looked at her. Richard said, ‘What about you? Ready to put your head in the lion’s mouth?’

‘I’m not afraid,’ Rachel said defiantly. ‘I’m going to marry Angus and she can’t stop me now.’

‘Ah, I understand.’ Richard grinned. ‘You want the chance to thumb your nose at her.’

‘Won’t you hate to leave Angus?’ Alice asked.

‘He’s terribly busy, so he won’t miss me for two weeks,’ Rachel answered. ‘We’ll have all the rest of our lives to be together.’

‘Well, that’s that,’ said Richard, as he and Alice went back into the house. ‘Now it’s just you and me.’

‘I suppose you’ll be working all the time,’ Alice said.

‘It’s August. And I’m entitled to a holiday too. We’ll have fun. Riding. Outings with the boys. And we can order anything we like to eat.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. Have you a secret craving for lobster à la King?’

‘I’ve never had lobster. Would I like it?’

‘Probably not. Sausages then, and cake and cocoa.’

At last she laughed. ‘I’m not seven!’

‘Think of me as your fairy godmother.’ He tucked her hand through his arm. ‘Tell me all your secret dreams and longings.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t do that,’ she said.

He was sorry to see her look away, the smile disappearing. What on earth was troubling her? He thought of her sudden decision not to go back to art school. Had something happened there? He wanted to get to the bottom of it, but was distracted by the arrival of the nursery maids with the children.

Alexander, still in dresses, exhibited his new teeth in a delighted smile. Louis broke free from Jessie’s hand and ran to Richard. He swung the child up high in the air, making him squeal, then settled him on his hip. ‘How would you like to catch sticklebacks? I think it’s high time you learned.’

‘What’s stickerbacks?’ Louis demanded.

‘Something every self-respecting boy in nankins ought to know about. It involves paddling in streams and getting very, very muddy.’

‘Oh, sir!’ Jessie said reproachfully.

Louis crowed with delight. ‘Stickerbacks, stickerbacks!’’

‘I was thinking I might start teaching him to ride,’ Alice said.

‘Excellent idea. What a crowded diary young Lord Ayton will have! We’ll have to make an appointment just to tickle him,’ Richard said, beginning there and then and, when Louis wriggled, giggling, out of his arms, chasing him obligingly up the stairs.

One afternoon Alice was sitting on the floor up in the nursery. Louis, worn out by pleasure, sprawled asleep beside her in the utterly abandoned way of the very young, as though he had slipped off his body and gone adventuring among the stars. Alexander was napping in his cot, and Nanny was dozing in a chair in the corner, her sewing abandoned in her lap, her soft, moist breathing lapping like a gentle tide against the shores of the warm afternoon.

Richard had gone off to attend to some letters and the dogs had gone with him, probably for a little peace and quiet. They were getting old now, and a fellow could have enough of having his ears and tail pulled, even when it was done from love. There would be more disturbance for them tomorrow – Mrs Webster had asked Richard if she could call in the chimney-sweeps. It was something that was usually done in August when the family was away, and it was unwise to put it off. A chimney fire had burned down Priestwood Hall – twenty years or more ago, but the memory was seared into local minds.

The chimney-sweeping meant a great deal of disruption, including on the last day putting out the kitchen fires – a day of cold food, which Mrs Terry prepared for with a great baking of pies and roasting of hams. It would be a time of adventure for Louis, and even more so for the nursery maids who would have to try to stop him disappearing up chimneys, eating soot and generally getting filthy.

Alice had enjoyed being substitute mother to the boys. She especially enjoyed reading to Louis every day – his appetite for stories was voracious. Unfortunately there were few books in the house suitable for a child. Today she had tried Gulliver’s Travels, but though the idea of tiny people appealed to Louis, the language was too difficult, and she’d had to paraphrase as she went along. At least it had sent him comfortably to sleep.

She took up her sketching-pad and a soft pencil, and quickly drew the sleeping child in his wonderfully boneless sprawl. She turned the page and drew Nanny, thrown into sharp chiaroscuro by the August sunshine slanting through the nursery window, deepening the shadows in the depths of the armchair and the folds of the dress.