Page 34 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

Sebastian said, ‘It’s the same as with horses. They know if you’re nervous. Pretend a confidence whether you feel it or not. Now then, there are practicalities to address. A telegram to your mother first of all, I think.’

‘Right,’ Richard agreed. ‘Mama will be furious enough that Pusscat dared to do it without her supervision. She mustn’t wait until she gets back to hear of it.’

‘I shall deal with Maud when she arrives,’ Grandmère said firmly. ‘She shall not upset Kitty.’

‘I’ll go up and sit with her now,’ Alice said, hastening after Doris. And the baby. Her nephew! It really was rather sweet.

Sebastian continued. ‘The parson should be sent for – there’s a christening to think about. And the servants should be told – they’ll know already, of course, but a formal announcement is always appreciated.’ He thought of Dory, who had laundered the ancient christening gown and yesterday had been repairing the delicate silk and lace. ‘And it’s traditional to ring the house bell when an heir is born.’

The birth of a future earl was a public event. Giles gave a small, tight quirk of lips. ‘I’m glad you’re here to advise me,’ he said.

Giles went upstairs a little nervously, having never seen a woman who had just given birth. Childbirth was such a closely guarded female secret, with its hints of almost religious ritual, suffering, blood and blame, that he feared he would have to witness some terrible aftermath and be racked with guilt.

But Kitty was sitting up in bed in a pretty, ribboned bed-jacket, with colour in her cheeks, looking more or less normal, and only as tired as she might be after a day’s hunting.

He crept up to the bed, wondering if some devastating damage was being concealed from him. ‘How are you?’ he whispered.

‘Oh, Giles, have you seen him?’ Kitty cried. ‘Is he all right?’

‘He’s perfect,’ Giles said, and then, driven by honesty, ‘As far as I can tell. I don’t know much about babies. But Uncle Sebastian knows all about them, and he seems to think he’s fine.’ He took her hand, which to his relief was not cold and clammy with encroaching disaster, but dry and warm as usual. ‘You are clever, having a boy straight off.’

‘Is he beautiful?’ Kitty asked.

‘I think so. Don’t you?’ Giles noticed at last the tenor of her questions. ‘Haven’t you seen him?’ She shook her head. ‘Not at all?’

‘The nurse won’t let me. She took him away and won’t bring him back. She says I have to rest. But I don’t want to rest. I want to see my baby.’

Something practical for a man to do! Giles stood up, looking stern. ‘We’ll see about that. Don’t fret, Kitty, you shall have him.’

Nurse Belton was tall and bony, like a horse. Giles had vaguely thought midwives would be round and cushiony and was taken aback. And though he was not a great one for formality, he was also surprised by the undeferential way she looked him straight in the eye and called him ‘Lord Stainton’, not ‘my lord’ or ‘your lordship’.

‘Baby has been taken to the nursery, as is customary,’ she said. ‘The mother needs to rest.’

‘She wants to have him with her,’ said Giles. ‘As any mother would.’

Nurse Belton raised an eyebrow. ‘I hardly think, Lord Stainton, that you are in a position to know what is best for mother and child. New fathers are always needlessly anxious. Baby is being looked after. It is not healthy for mothers to brood over their infants. It is not done,’ she gave it as the clinching argument, ‘in the best houses.’

‘Confound the best houses!’ Giles retorted. ‘My wife wants to hold her baby. It’s inhumane to separate them.’

She was maddeningly unmoved. ‘My last confinement was Lady Stavesacre of Holm Abbey, and she did not even see Baby until three days after the birth. A very superior family, the Stavesacres. Everything done in the best style. The nursery at Holm Abbey is extremely well-appointed.’

He drew himself up, and managed, just, to overtop her. ‘Nevertheless,’ he said, ‘if Lady Stainton wants to have the baby with her, she shall. Where is he now? I will carry him there myself.’

The gimlet eyes bored a moment longer, and then, with no change of expression, Nurse Belton said, ‘There is no need of that. I shall bring Baby, if that is your wish, Lord Stainton.’

‘At once, if you please.’

She inclined her head stiffly and walked away.

Nothing in a great house goes unremarked. Nurse Belton had only been in situ a few hours and had already made herself unpopular below stairs: her criticisms of the nursery’s appointments and the general standards of cleanliness had been faithfully reported. Rose, the head housemaid, brought the news of her besting gleefully to Mrs Webster, who felt a little balm to her soul.

‘So now her ladyship’s to have him with her whenever she likes,’ Rose concluded.

‘All the same, she’s not wrong, that nurse,’ said Miss Hatto, who had been with Mrs Webster when Rose came panting in with the story. ‘In high-up houses they do keep the babies in the nursery, and the mothers aren’t supposed to take much notice of them.’

‘I don’t think his lordship sets a lot of store by what other high-ups do,’ said Mrs Webster.

‘You’re right,’ said Rose. ‘All that time he spent out in Egypt, mixing with dear-knows-who . . . Her ladyship will have something to say about it when she comes back.’