Page 114 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

Dory looked at her reflection while she pondered. Probably Ellen was right, and Sebastian would want her to have a maid. And probably she needed one. Would it be better or worse to be maided by someone who knew her from the old days? But a stranger might learn what she had been and take offence. That would be painful.

She thought of arriving home in Henley without a maid, and having to call on Olive the housemaid to hook her up, the only other choice being Mrs May. Ellen was ambitious to be a lady’s maid, which meant she would insist that the person she maided was treated with respect. She would be . . . an ally, perhaps? Dory had witnessed the closeness that sometimes developed between mistress and maid. She had never had a friend – it would be nice to have someone on her side, perhaps to confide in.

‘I should like you to be my maid,’ she said, and saw Ellen beam with genuine pleasure. ‘I will ask Mr Sebastian, and send a message to you.’

Ellen handed her the long silk gloves. She knew what an opportunity this was. It was hard to make the jump from housemaid to lady’s maid. Another chance like this might not come for years, if ever. ‘Thank you, madam,’ she said.

‘Thank you, Ellen,’ said Dory.

Prince Usingen’s English, carefully instilled in him in childhood by a tutor with the aid of a whippy cane, had abandoned him entirely. It didn’t matter very much as the doctor, of course, was German, as was the brick-faced nurse; and, in any case, once labour started he was banished from his wife’s presence and confined to the ground floor. Linda, who spoke excellent German, had established herself in the lying-in chamber before anyone could question whether she should be there. Miss Kettel was giving Arabella lessons in the old schoolroom to keep her mind off things. Which left only the two young ladies to comfort and reassure him through the ordeal.

Rachel and Alice hadn’t sufficient grasp of the language to cope with such a delicate task. So the three of them sat exuding silent goodwill, except when Paul leaped to his feet as though driven by a hot spike and walked up and down the room, while the two girls held hands and whispered to each other.

‘Why is it taking so long?’ Alice whispered, when the prince was at the window, his unquiet hands clasped behind his back. ‘Linda told me that the more babies you have, the quicker it should be.’

‘I don’t know,’ Rachel whispered back. ‘Linda’s only had two, perhaps she doesn’t really know.’

‘Mama’s much older than Linda. Perhaps that makes a difference.’

Rachel’s eyes were beginning to fill with tears. ‘You don’t think . . . She won’t die, will she?’

‘No, of course not,’ Alice said automatically, not sure at all, and forgetting to whisper.

The prince turned and said, ‘Bitte?’

She had to say something. ‘You must be tired, sir. And you had nothing at breakfast. Shall I ring for coffee?’ she tried. He stared at her blankly. She racked her brain for the German. ‘Möchten sie Kaffee? Soll ich klingeln?’

He mustered a scrap of English. ‘Sank you, no.’ He turned his eyes towards the ceiling. ‘Ich frage mich . . . Is all in ordnung? Why is it to be so long?’

Alice was embarrassed by his emotion. Mothers and fathers should be remote figures, not human beings made of flesh. ‘The doctor knows what he is doing,’ she said, trying to sound confident. ‘Everything will be all right.’

He resumed his tormented pacing.

‘Did you really mean it?’ Rachel asked. ‘That Mama will be all right?’

‘Of course.’ Alice wondered why it was left to her to reassure people. Shouldn’t someone be comforting her? She thought of Axe, his big, quiet, powerful presence. He would not pace about and wring his hands. She would not be afraid or uncertain if he were there.

Rachel blotted her eyes. ‘Did I hear you say something about coffee? Could we have some? And cake? Breakfast was so long ago, I’m starving.’

‘I’ll ring,’ Alice said, and got up. It gave her something to do.

‘It’s not right, Mr Crooks,’ said Mrs May. ‘Whichever way you look at it, she’s been a servant in this house. I don’t see how we’re supposed to forget that.’

‘Forget it you will, and you shall,’ Crooks said.

The maid Olive had moved to Mrs May’s side as if seconding her opinion, and Crooks guessed that this argument had been rehearsed many times in the past weeks. Joe, the handyman, who had come into the kitchen for the mid-morning bait, only stared from one face to another with his mouth open.

‘But it seems to me—’ Mrs May began, settling in for the fight.

Crooks interrupted her: ‘Tell me, when you applied for your position here, did Mr Sebastian promise he would consult you if he ever decided to take a wife?’

Mrs May paused a moment before answering. ‘You’re an educated man, Mr Crooks. You’ve got all the words, which I haven’t, and you can twist things round so they sound right when you say them. But it doesn’t make it so.’

‘Then I’ll make it simple for you, Mrs May. Suppose you went to the master, and said to him, “I don’t like your choice of wife. Get rid of her, or I’m handing in my notice.” What do you suppose he would say?’

Mrs May’s lips tightened. ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic, Mr Crooks.’

‘Isn’t there?’