Page 114 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

Mr Cowling invited Decius to dine with them at the hotel that evening. He was glad to see Nina so animated, though at the same time wistful that it was with Decius, not with him, that she was having such a good time. He had been pleased to see how impressed she was with the Grand, and hoped she might have taken some ideas about how the inside of a gentleman’s house ought to look. He had his dissatisfactions, too. For one thing, though Leicester had fine shops and she had used a whole morning going round them, she hadn’t bought anything, despite his giving her a fistful of banknotes and telling her to charge anything she fancied. But not so much as a pair of silk stockings had she bought for herself!

And though they were sharing the same bed in the hotel, he hadn’t managed to repeat his recent happy performance. The anger that had stiffened his sinews and summoned up his blood had disappeared down some spiritual rabbit hole, leaving him tangled in the old, debilitating love and yearning. She was so beautiful, so fresh, so young and untouched, so fragrant, so clever, so entirely lovely that he did not, never could deserve her. Approaching her in bed made him feel again like a gross and ugly old satyr. It was of no use to tell himself that she had chosen him, that she was his wife – or even that he had managed it before. Whenever he tried to bring her the proud flower of his adoration, it wilted during the approach.

The superb dinner in the magnificent dining room of the Grand cheered his spirits somewhat, and he was pleased and touched when Nina told him that she had asked Decius to show her the cobbler’s shop in Wigston where he had begun his career, and the shop opposite where he had first set up on his own.

‘The cobbler’s is a lady’s dress shop now,’ she told him. ‘But your shoe shop is still a shoe shop.’

‘Of course it is,’ he said, amused. ‘I still own it. Did you think I’d part with the place that gave me my start?’

‘But it doesn’t say Cowling over the door,’ she objected. ‘It says J. Clarke.’

‘No, because I let it to a chap and he wants his own name there, which is fair enough. But he sells Cowling and Kempson shoes. While I live, that shop will always sell shoes.’

She smiled at him. ‘I think that’s lovely. It can be like your auriga, for when you are the King’s right-hand man and he makes you a duke.’

Mr Cowling laughed. ‘I don’t see that happening,’ he said – though he had secretly thought that a barony wasn’t out of the question. ‘What’s an auriga when it’s at home?’

Decius answered. ‘When a Roman general had a public celebration for one of his victories and was driven through the streets in front of the adoring crowds, the auriga stood behind him in the chariot and whispered in his ear, “Remember you are mortal.” So that he didn’t get too big-headed and offend the gods.’

Mr Cowling felt peeved that they both knew that, and he didn’t. He hadn’t had that sort of education. Of course Decius had – you’d expect it – but it was galling that Nina knew about this whispering chap too. ‘Oh, you think I’m big-headed, do you?’ he said sourly.

‘No, of course not,’ Decius said hastily.

Nina reached across the table and touched his hand. ‘You’re the most modest man I’ve ever met,’ she said. ‘Too modest. And kind, and generous.’

He was placated. ‘Hard to be generous to someone when they won’t buy anything. All those shops you went to yesterday – couldn’t find anything you liked?’ he teased. ‘Got too grand for them, eh? Maybe it’s you that needs this chap in your ear.’

It was such a good opening that Nina couldn’t waste it. She told him eagerly about the Evington Manor sale, said that Decius was willing to take her there, and added breathlessly that if he didn’t mind, she would like to look out for some pieces of furniture.

Mr Cowling scowled. She had already shown how much she liked the Blakes’s ramshackle old place, and in his mind Evington – which he had never visited – took on the same aspect. They wouldn’t be selling up if they weren’t broke, and broke people didn’t have nice things. And after he’d brought her to the Grand, which was said to be the finest hotel in Europe, specifically to show her what was what!

‘No, no,’ he said. ‘I’m not having it! Buying up broken old second-hand things for my house, what do you take me for? Scratching around like a cock on a dung-heap for somebody’s left-overs – aye, even if that somebody is a lord! I know a bit about Stoughton. His father was a gamester, got himself into debt, and his son hadn’t got the gumption to pull himself out of the mire. Pallid youth with watery eyes and no chin – all the stomach bred out of him. Well, I’m not having his old cast-offs! I’ve told you, Nina, buy new things. You can spend as much as you like. Go up to London and fit out the whole house at Maples.’

Decius stepped in before she could reply, speaking quietly and thoughtfully. ‘I can see why you might think that, sir,’ he said, ‘but in fact, the interior of Evington has always been accounted the finest in the land – finer than Blenheim Palace, I’ve heard it said. As for things being old, their antiquity is part of their value. Like Greek and Roman statues, for instance—’

‘Aye, and I’ve seen enough of them, too. Dingy and stained, some man with a chipped nose and some woman with her arms knocked off!’

‘Well, they were ill-treated by the Greeks and Italians before ever they were brought to England. But the furniture at Evington’s not like that. There are some beautiful pieces, made by the finest craftsmen of their time, absolute masterpieces. And those craftsmen made very few of them, so only the richest and most distinguished people could afford them – and having bought them they made sure they were lovingly cared for. You would not find a scratch or a scuff anywhere. And fine wood – as you know, sir – improves with age. It gains a deep patina from the years of polishing that you’ll never find in new furniture.’

Mr Cowling had listened suspiciously, and now looked at Nina. ‘Is this what you want? When – mark me, now – you could have anything in the world?’

‘Well, I would like to see what’s there,’ she said cautiously. ‘And if there was anything that I really loved . . .’

‘Naturally I was only thinking of the finest pieces, sir,’ Decius said. And, knowing his employer, he added, ‘Of course, pieces like that would cost a great deal more than new furniture—’

‘Oh, would they?’ Mr Cowling said derisively. ‘Pay a lot for this patina, do you?’

‘And for the original craftsmanship. A piece like that is unique, like an Old Master painting. No one else in the country will have one like it. While Maples’ things are made in large numbers and many people will have identical pieces.’

Mr Cowling considered. He knew his Decius too, and he knew he was being manipulated. The Prince of Wales had furniture from Maples, and it was good enough for him and Princess May. On the other hand, to have a really rare object – he knew the value of that. Something there was only one of. That added to a man’s reputation. But would the sort of folk he invited to his house in Market Harborough recognise a thing like that when they saw it?

But Nina was looking at him hopefully. He had wanted her to buy herself something that pleased her. He’d been thinking more of a hat or a trinket or a fur tippet, but if this was how it had to be . . .

‘All right, then,’ he said, and enjoyed seeing her face light. ‘But no rubbish, mind!’

‘I’ll only be looking at the finest pieces,’ Decius said.

‘They’ll probably cost too much anyway,’ Nina said.