Page 24 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

That was no more than the truth, because he arranged for Angus to meet them there. He was interested in any case to hear about his interview with Mr Cowling.

‘It sounds as if he means you to have a career with him. You could end up running a significant part of his business,’ he said, when Angus had told all.

‘That’s what I’m hoping for,’ said Angus. ‘And if I can help him develop the export side—’

‘It will make him even richer than he is already,’ Richard finished for him. ‘I don’t think you’d find him ungenerous.’

‘Then I’d be able to support a wife in decent style,’ Angus said.

Rachel was gazing at him, torn between admiration and doubt. ‘But—’ she began.

‘But,’ Richard agreed. He owed it to his sister to keep a level head. ‘There’s still the question of our mother’s permission. Which I can’t imagine will be forthcoming.’ He held out his hands like the two sides of a balance scale. ‘A job in manufacturing and shipping. A Russian prince’s estates.’

‘Oh, Richard!’ Rachel said reproachfully.

‘You have to face it, old girl. The mater is no advocate for True Love.’

Rachel looked at Angus with swimming eyes. ‘She’ll never let me marry you.’

Angus reached for her hand across the table. ‘You just have to hold on for another eighteen months. Once you’re of age, you won’t need her permission, and by then I’ll be established in my career and have some money behind me. Only eighteen months more.’

Rachel gave him an adoring if watery look, but Richard knew – and probably the young couple did, too, deep in their hearts – that expecting Rachel to hold out against her mother was like expecting the ramparts of a sandcastle to hold back the tide. Once Maud’s honeymoon was over she would take Rachel back to live with her in Germany, and Rachel would have no-one to stiffen her resolve.

‘I’ll hold on,’ Rachel said. ‘I really will.’

Angus could only squeeze her hand, with a bleak look.

‘What was all that rumpus?’ Rose asked, coming down the back stairs into Piccadilly – as they called the main connecting passage below stairs.

Afton paused to enlighten her. ‘Little Lord Cordwell got into a fight with one of the stable boys, Timmy.’

Rose snorted. ‘He wants beating, that boy.’

‘Quite. Timmy called Lord Cordwell a blankety beggar-boy who was only here on sufferance.’

‘No, I meant young Cordwell wants beating. I’d bet anything he started it. I heard him the other day making fun of Billy Watts’s stammer. And what was he doing in the stables anyway, when he was supposed to be doing lessons?’

‘I suppose he slipped away somehow.’

‘That Miss Kettel can’t control him, a big lummox like him. He’s nearly nine years old. He ought to be sent away to school.’

‘I agree. School would be the best thing for him.’

They both knew there was no money left in the Cordwell estate to pay for school. ‘You should have a word with his lordship,’ Rose said.

‘It’s not my place to suggest any such thing,’ said Afton.

‘There’s bad blood in the Cordwells. His grandfather was a spendthrift and blew his brains out, and his father wasn’t much better,’ Rose said. ‘Bad blood will out.’

‘There’s no such thing as bad blood,’ Afton said stiffly.

Rose gave him a penetrating look. ‘Says it right there in the Bible. The sins of the father will be visited on the children to the third and fourth generation. You can’t argue with the Bible.’

‘I’m sure his lordship is acquainted with the state of his own household and can make his own mind up,’ said Afton.

The penetrating look did not waver. ‘Well, if I catch him messing with my things again like he did last week I shall box his ears, and her ladyship can dismiss me if she wants.’ She continued on her way, but turned a few steps past Afton to say quietly, ‘You should have a word with his lordship, Mr Afton, place or no place, before that boy causes real trouble.’

Miss Taylor was able to get about on crutches now, which was a cause of irritation to Rose because she never knew where she was going to come across her. She found her poking about in the ironing room. She turned as Rose came in, and scowled. Her temper was as stretched as the head housemaid’s. Dr Welkes had told her that her leg would heal in three or four months, but would she still have a position after that time?