Page 52 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

‘Perhaps he’ll like being earl,’ Alice said, and then frowned.

He read her mind. ‘Does your brother like it?’

She pondered. ‘I think – he accepts it. He always seems worried, and too busy, so I don’t suppose one can say he’s enjoying it.’

Axe nodded. ‘There it is. We all got our work to do in this life. I’m glad mine’s all to hand, and nothing to get worried over. I wake in the morning with a glad heart. Must be hard not to do that.’

She looked at him, pondering. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re lucky.’

‘I am,’ he said. Then, ‘Want to come with me this afternoon? Going up the wood with Della to bring out a tree trunk. Trimmed it yesterday, now the stock’s ready to haul. You can see how she works. Knows her job, that lass – it’s canny to see her pick her way, never puts a foot wrong.’

‘Oh, I’d love to!’ Alice said. ‘May I really? Does Dolly come too?’

‘Rides on Della’s back.’

‘I’d love to see that! And maybe we’ll spot Captain, too.’

‘Miracles do happen,’ he said, enjoying her innocent delight.

Nina had discovered a pleasant walk nearby along the riverbank to take with Trump. In a cupboard in Wriothesby House she had found a duck-headed walking-stick some past visitor had left behind, and took it with her for the pleasure of swiping at stinging-nettles as she walked – and, more practically, in case she met an irate swan or a doubtful bull on the way.

On this lovely June day she had gone a good distance, and was thinking of turning back, when another dog came into view, running fast towards them. When it saw Trump, it put on a burst of speed, and while Trump was still bristling, trying to assess the situation, it bowled him over, and the two disappeared in a whirling mass into the long grass beside the path. Nina wasn’t sure if they were fighting or playing – it looked like playing, but the other dog was bigger than Trump, and she was dithering on the edge of the situation, trying to insert her stick in a useful manner, when someone else came running up and with strong hands and a few practiced movements hauled the two apart and stood, panting slightly, with a collar in each hand and the dogs, forelegs held clear of the ground, effectively neutralised.

‘How did you do that?’ Nina marvelled. ‘And without getting bitten? I wish you would teach me.’

The newcomer was a woman she guessed to be about thirty, sensibly dressed for walking in a navy serge skirt just above the ankle bone, a grey flannel blouse and a round felt hat with a brim and a jaunty red feather. She had a wide-awake sort of face, grey eyes, fair curly hair, and a few freckles that suggested she liked to be out of doors a lot. Nina liked her immediately.

‘You just have to be quick,’ she said. ‘But they weren’t fighting – though of course it can turn nasty. Luckily your dog is a Jack Russell, and the hunt keeps terriers too.’ She noted Nina’s slightly questioning look and said, ‘Viking’s a hound puppy – I’m a puppy-walker for the Fernie. Do you hunt?’

‘I never have in England, but I’d like to. What’s a puppy-walker?’

‘Oh, people who take the hound puppies into their own houses and keep them until they’re ready to join the pack. I do it most years. I’m afraid Viking’s rather more boisterous than most. He got away from me for a moment. I hope you weren’t frightened. Cur-dog hunting’s a dreadful fault in a hound, that’s why they run the terriers with the pack, but I don’t think he’s that way inclined. I don’t think he would have hurt your dog.’ She let go of both collars and the dogs sat for a moment, one either side of her, in a docile way, before cautiously sniffing each other, then trotting off together peaceably. ‘Look, they’re friends already. I’m Bobby Wharfedale, by the way, from Welland Hall, and I’ve already introduced Viking.’

‘I’m Nina – Cowling.’ She stumbled only slightly over the name. ‘From Wriothesby House. And my dog is Trump.’

‘Oh, after Parson Russell’s bitch? But it’s a good name for a dog as well. And of course you’ve just moved in, haven’t you? I was so pleased when I heard you were coming to live there. I go past Wriothesby often and always feel sorry that it’s been left empty for so long. It’s such a lovely house.’

‘Do you think so? I love it too.’

‘I’m so glad. I knew the Ampleforths, who used to live there, so I’ve often been inside it.’ She paused, surveying Nina with a satisfied look that was balm to her soul. ‘Are you going much further?’

‘I was just going to turn back,’ Nina said.

‘Shall we walk together, then? Our dogs seem to have come to a modus vivendi.’ They were coursing about together, noses down, in the rough grass. The path was only a beaten track along a mostly untamed riverbank.

‘I’d love to,’ Nina said, and added shyly, ‘The trouble with being new to a place is one doesn’t know anybody.’

‘That will soon change. In a small town you soon know everybody – and rather wish you didn’t! What did you mean when you said you hadn’t hunted in England?’

So Nina told her about India, and the horses there. She was a wonderful listener. At the end, she said, ‘I must persuade you to join the Fernie. We’re always looking for new subscribers, and we don’t have nearly enough women hunting. Hunting properly, I mean, not just turning up at meets, ambling to the first gate and then going home.’

‘I’d love to. But I don’t have a horse.’

‘You have very nice stables at Wriothesby House – I’ve often been in them. It’s a shame to see them empty.’

‘I’m sure my husband would buy me a horse if I asked him,’ Nina said.

‘Oh, what fun! Oh, please, please let me help you find one! There’s nothing I like more than buying horses! And until you get one, you must come up to the Hall and ride one of ours. I’d love to have someone to ride with. I can show you the country, so that when you start hunting you won’t get lost.’