Page 25 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘A whole basket of little Lord Ayton’s things sitting here waiting to be ironed! Those nursery maids are shockingly idle! They should be done as soon as they are washed, not left for the creases to set in.’

‘Not my business,’ Rose said sharply. ‘And not yours either.’

‘The smooth running of the house is everyone’s business. We never had slackness like this in Mrs Horsepool’s day.’ This was the housekeeper before Mrs Webster.

‘You don’t remember,’ Rose told her. ‘You were never down here except for meals. And it’s time you started to get used to the stairs again. Your mistress is coming back next week, isn’t she?’

Miss Taylor tossed her head, jammed the crutches into her armpits and heaved herself away instead of answering. To add to the worry of the Princess of Usingen coming back to the Castle was the unusual way she had announced it.

Everyone had expected Maud to go to London first, and probably to stay there until after Lord Leake’s party. Also, when she came to the Castle, she normally only sent a telegram giving the train she would be on, so that the carriage could be sent to the station. But this time she had announced her return two weeks in advance, and by letter to Mrs Webster, with no mention of any stay in London, but an unusual degree of detail about the arrangements to be made.

The prince would sleep in the Queen’s Bedroom – the state bedroom that Giles’s father had occupied but which he had never cared for – and the portrait of the princess’s first husband, the Earl of Stainton, which hung over the fireplace, was to be replaced with the daguerreotype of Queen Victoria from the morning-room. That much was understandable. But she went on to say the Van Dyck Room was to be prepared for her. It was named after the studio copy of the portrait of Henrietta Maria of France in a magnificent dark blue silk gown, by Van Dyck, which had once hung over its mantelpiece, facing Charles I on horseback on the opposite wall. Both paintings had been sold by the late earl when he got into difficulties, but the name survived.

In addition the princess stipulated that she would have the state bed from the Tapestry Room; the yellow satin sofa and chairs from her old bedroom, along with the rosewood bonheur-du-jour from her former sitting-room; and the green porphyry fern stand from the library with an arrangement of flowers in the Roman vase from the Jade Room..

‘What on earth is all this about?’ Mrs Webster had said to Rose, perplexed. ‘I’ve never known her to give orders like this. You’ve been here the longest, Rose – is this usual?’

‘I’ve never known her to care a jot about what bedroom she used and what was in it,’ Rose answered. ‘If you ask me, she’s just making trouble.’

‘The state bed from the Tapestry Room?’ said Mrs Webster. ‘It’s enormous! However can we move it?’

‘The carpenter’ll have to take it to bits and put it together again. It was done once before when the Empress Eugénie visited – Mr Sebastian will probably remember. That’s three days’ work for four men. If I was you, I’d check with his lordship. It’s not as if she even lives here any more.’

Mrs Webster looked worried. ‘But supposing it means she’s moving back in? With the prince?’

‘Then you’d definitely better check with his lordship. Maybe she’s written to him as well,’ said Rose.

The invitations to Fergus’s post-wedding celebration had gone out, and the illustrateds had caught the romance of the story and had fallen into breathless superlatives. England’s Most Eligible Bachelor Brings Home Italian Bride. Florentine Beauty Set To Dazzle London. Not since Helen of Troy captured the heart of Paris . . . Lord Leake, famously impervious to the most feted of English debutantes . . . Renaissance elegance and wit has cast a spell . . .

Lacking any likeness of Lord Leake’s bride, one ingenious weekly had published the image of Da Vinci’s La Belle Ferronnière to be going on with. Lady’s Realm had managed to acquire a photograph of Lord and Lady Leake exiting the Meurice in Paris, but as she was wearing a hat with a veil and Lord Leake was holding an umbrella over both of them, there wasn’t much to be seen.

The publishable facts were that Lord and Lady Leake were to stay at the Hambleton Hotel in Grosvenor Square where they would host a dinner for ninety followed by a ball to celebrate the nuptials that had taken place quietly in Florence. The less delicately minded publications were making estimates of how much it was all going to cost.

‘Ninety at dinner! I had no idea Fergus knew so many people,’ Aunt Caroline said to Giles, who had come up to Town to talk to his banker, Vogel.

‘“His charming bachelor habit of moving from house to house during the Season proved him to be one of the best-known and most popular house-guests in the land,”’ said Giles.

‘Is that a quotation?’ Aunt Caroline said, puzzled.

‘From Vanity Fair. Lady Bexley showed it to me after church. I think she supposed I might be able to get her an invitation.’

‘Oh dear, how embarrassing,’ Aunt Caroline said.

‘It was. She gushed.’

‘I did invite them to stay here, of course,’ Aunt Caroline went on, ‘but I had no idea of the scale of his plans. I thought it was to be a neat dinner for immediate family. Excluding the children we’d have sat down twelve at table, a pleasant number I always think. I’ve had to see Madame Hortense about a new gown, and she doesn’t like to be hurried. How dressy do you think it will be? Do you think I should get my tiara from the bank?’

‘Aunty, I have no idea,’ Giles said impatiently. ‘Just be glad they’re not staying here – imagine having the press gathered in front of your door day after day, photographing everyone going in or out.’

‘Have you heard any more from Maud and the prince? I understand they’re going straight down to Ashmore – probably wise after such a long journey. They’ll need time to recover before the party. But will they want to stay here after the ball? You’re all welcome, of course, but I need to know who will be staying. This is really a very small house. Eight bedrooms should be enough but not if married people want to sleep separately.’ She looked anxious at the thought.

Giles smiled and patted her hand. ‘You do have your troubles. Ask Grandmère to take Alice and Rachel for the night.’

‘Oh, Alice!’ Aunt Caroline cried, seeing a new problem. ‘That child has nothing suitable for a dinner and ball like this. I shall have to wheedle Madame Hortense into making something for her. It will put her in a dreadful mood,’ she sighed.

‘Goodness, a dressmaker who gets upset by being asked to make dresses?’

‘You don’t understand. She’s an artist, and artists are temperamental. Has Kitty something suitable? Tell her not to leave it to the last moment. Rachel will be all right – she had trunks full of things for her come-out last year.’