Page 123 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle

And the dinners – oh, the dinners! The food, which she had noticed on her first visit to the Castle was poor, did not get any better. She could eat little of it, and noticed that the guests divided into those who would put almost anything into their mouths, and those who skirted round it with an air of resignation. Evidently no-one expected tasty food at the Castle. She remembered the meals in Italy, the simple but luscious tastes. She didn’t understand why a large estate should not be able to produce good-quality meat, and fruit and vegetables in season. Even in Hampstead they had had a succession house, though it was small. At Ashmore, surely they had room for acres of glass.

It was one of the many things she meant to bring up with Giles, when there was time – at the moment, he was occupied with urgent estate business that kept him locked in the library day after day. But had not the money she had brought to the marriage solved his problems? And could there not now be some of the improvements she had dreamed of?

As soon as she could get him to herself, she would raise the subject. Just now, however, they had arrived at the door of her bedroom. ‘Goodnight, my dear,’ he said, and gave her a peck on the cheek.

She looked at him longingly. Dared she ask if he would visit her? She put all her yearning into her look, and it seemed to get through to him. Meeting her eyes, he laid a hand on her arm. The feeling of his hot palm against her bare skin made her shiver with desire, and she saw that it had communicated itself to him. His breath was warm and sweet on her cheek as he whispered, ‘May I come to you? In fifteen minutes, then.’

In her room, Rose got up sleepily from the chair, and came to help her with buttons and hooks. Kitty was in a frenzy to be ready in time – if he came in while Rose was still there, he might go away again! She wanted to cry, Hurry up, hurry up! but restrained herself. Perhaps Rose felt it anyway, because she quickened her fingers, and did not waste time with conversation. She left Kitty sitting up in bed with a ‘Goodnight, my lady,’ and as soon as she had gone, Kitty struggled out of the nightdress and lay down, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

There was a soft sound at the door, and Giles came in, in his dressing-gown. He hurried across the room, threw it off, and she had one glorious glimpse of his naked body before he jumped into bed beside her. Her arms went up around his neck, and she felt him shudder with passion. They sank into each other with a sigh of relief. There was no time for conversation. If only, she thought, before thought was obliterated, we could always be in bed …

In the morning, he kissed her goodbye, and as he climbed out of bed he said, ‘What happened to the idea of the communicating door?’

‘Your mother said no,’ she told him sleepily.

*

‘Giles, may I speak to you for a moment?’

Giles looked up, and curbed his immediate reaction of irritation at being interrupted, remembering the sweetness of the night before. But Kitty saw that he looked at her with a stranger’s eyes, and her heart misgave.

‘Give me a moment, Markham,’ Giles said, and the agent bowed and went out. Kitty clasped her hands before her, like a child summoned to a stern father’s study. ‘Well?’ Giles said. He didn’t say, ‘Be quick,’ but it was in his tone.

She summoned her courage. ‘Dinner last night,’ she said. ‘In fact, dinner every night. I see that you don’t eat much—’

‘I’m not a great eater,’ he said.

‘You ate in Italy,’ she said. ‘I saw you enjoy your meals. And you put on weight. Now you’re getting thin again. I see our guests pushing the food to the side of the plate. We invite people to dinner, and they can’t eat anything. It’s – humiliating.’

‘The food at the Castle has never been much different in my lifetime,’ Giles said, turning a pen round and round in his fingers. ‘My father—’

‘But now you are the earl,’ Kitty said. ‘You ought to have meals you can eat and our guests can enjoy. We need a new cook. The one we have is useless.’

‘Then do something about it,’ he said. ‘Running the household isn’t my business.’

‘But it isn’t mine, either. Your mother orders everything.’

‘I can’t be drawn into an argument between you and my mother,’ he said impatiently. ‘You must sort things out for yourself without involving me every time.’

Kitty felt tears start, and tried to suppress them, knowing it would annoy him if she cried. ‘I don’t want to involve you,’ she said, ‘but she won’t listen to me. I asked about having the communicating door made between our rooms, and she said no.’

‘Well, don’t ask her. Tell her. You’re mistress of the house.’

‘But you told me to ask her. And you know very well I’m not mistress,’ Kitty said. ‘She won’t allow me to “interfere”, as she calls it.’

‘I’m sure she’s just trying to help.’

‘You know she’s not. She runs the household, and nothing will change that unless you say something to her!’

His nostrils flared. ‘Have you the slightest idea of what’s involved in running a house this size? You’re very young, and you’ve never done anything like it before.’

Kitty pressed her nails into her palms to keep the tears back. ‘How can I learn if no-one will teach me? I don’t want to take everything over all at once, but I want to start. Some things need changing, you know they do, and she won’t change anything unless you tell her to let me have a say.’

Giles put his head in his hands for a moment and inwardly cried, Oh, God! Why do I have to put up with this? He wanted to shout at Kitty, tell her to go away and sort things out for herself, and above all stop bothering him! But then he thought of his mother, and her cold haughtiness, and he knew he could not in fairness expect young, unarmed Kitty to fight the dragon with bare hands and no help.

He sighed and said, ‘I’ll speak to her about a new cook. Now, I really must get on. Will you ask Markham to come back in?’

Dismissed, Kitty went.