Page 150 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘Next year they can come to us, here,’ he said, almost as if he had kept pace with her thoughts. ‘I’ve got some plans in mind for improving the house, building on a new wing. After Christmas we must get that architect-feller back and see what he thinks. I’ve made a sketch – not that I’m any artist, but I’ll show it to you tomorrow.’

The new footman, Frederick, was tall, with very dark hair and blue eyes, and had the maids in a flutter.

‘He’s so handsome!’ Doris moaned.

‘Like a prince in a story,’ Daisy agreed. ‘I can’t believe he’s real.’

‘He’s real enough,’ said Mabel. ‘I wouldn’t mind a kiss and a cuddle with him.’

Rose, passing by, growled, ‘You’d do it with a one-eyed dog, so that’s not saying much.’

Frederick, so far, had regarded the maids with lofty detachment, like a sultan looking over an unpromising new batch of slave girls. It was a relief to Afton that he did not seem inclined to dive into their giggling, bosomy sea of promise.

‘He’s very self-contained,’ Afton said. ‘That’s unusual in a servant.’

Mrs Webster had been discomposed by the way he looked directly into her eyes when speaking to her, something hardly anyone ever did. ‘He quite put me out of countenance,’ she said to Afton.

‘But Mr Moss likes him,’ Afton noted.

Despite Frederick being the same height, which meant Moss could not loom impressively over him, he had taken to him. Frederick had never worked in a big house before, having been the sole male servant in the household of a rich, single, elderly man, but though he did not always know how things were done, he learned quickly.

‘You never have to tell him anything twice,’ Moss had said. ‘And he’s quick and handy, and asks questions when he doesn’t know. I like that.’

He liked, too, the brisk way Frederick moved, unlike William, who had never been the same since his brush with the law. To see his languid movements and vapid, drooping carriage annoyed Moss, but telling him off didn’t seem to help, only made William more miserable. ‘Frederick bestrides the downstairs world like a colobus, as Shakespeare says,’ Mr Moss had remarked to Afton. ‘Just to see the vigour he puts into every job is a tonic.’

‘He doesn’t look at all put out when he’s corrected,’ Mrs Webster went on now. ‘And if you praise him he doesn’t . . .’ She couldn’t think of the right words.

‘Wag his tail?’ Afton smiled. ‘No embarrassment, no shame, no anxiety, no desire for approval – is this a human being we’re talking about? Can it be a visiting demi-god walking among us?’

‘He’s no demi-god, the way he packs his food away,’ Rose said, passing. ‘I’ve never seen anyone get outside his dinner so quick. Not that he shovels it in, like that Wilfrid. He eats nice. But his hands move so quick it’s all done and dusted and a clean plate left. I don’t know how he does it.’

‘Perhaps he came from a large family,’ Afton said, ‘where if you don’t eat quickly you don’t eat.’ His childhood in the orphanage had worked in the same way. Make sure of your portion, before someone else snaffled it.

‘All the same,’ Mrs Webster said thoughtfully, ‘there’s something strange about him. I can’t put my finger on it.’

‘I think he’ll bear watching. He has an air of having secrets,’ Afton said.

‘Everyone’s got secrets,’ Rose said impatiently.

‘There I can’t agree with you,’ Afton said. ‘Most people’s lives are too small and cramped for secrets. They’d have nowhere to put them. Present company excepted, of course,’ he added, with a bow.

‘I don’t have any secrets,’ Rose objected.

‘I know very well that you do,’ Afton said. She glanced at him with quick suspicion, and he went on blandly, ‘You are not a small person, Rose.’

‘Stuff and nonsense!’ she said, with a toss of the head, and left.

Christmas Day was on a Monday, and Kitty had wanted to hold a large party on the Saturday before, but the Shacklocks had got in first with a ball, to which the whole neighbourhood was invited. ‘We can’t compete with that,’ Giles had said, amused at her disappointment.

‘I wouldn’t dream of trying,’ Kitty said. ‘It’s going to be very grand. And we don’t have a proper ballroom, so ours would only have been dancing in the great hall.’

‘Shall I buy you a ballroom?’ Giles offered.

She hesitated for a telling moment before saying, ‘Don’t be absurd. But your title is older than Lord Shacklock’s. He ought to have checked that you didn’t want the date before inviting everyone.’

‘Dear Kitty, just enjoy a large entertainment that you haven’t had to do the work for.’

‘I like doing the work,’ she said briskly. ‘It keeps me busy.’