Page 38 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

‘Easy for you to say, Mr Crooks,’ William muttered gloomily.

‘Life brings challenges to everyone,’ said Crooks. ‘You were tested, but you came through. You were found innocent. Now you must put it behind you, and use the experience to make you a better person. The refiner’s fire, d’you see?’

William didn’t see. There was nothing fine about it, as far as he could see. ‘But my ma’s done with me, because of Tabby, and everybody here thinks I did it. I can’t go home and I can’t stay. Even if I left, I’d never get another job with that hanging over me. Word gets about, you know.’

‘Nobody here thinks you did it,’ Crooks said, not quite truthfully.

‘James is telling everybody I did.’

‘James is a bad person. He says bad things about everybody. You mustn’t pay him any attention.’

‘But if everyone believes him . . .’

‘I’m sure they don’t. It’s just gossip. And if I hear anyone saying anything of that sort, I shall speak out, firmly.’

‘But what am I supposed to do?’ William said miserably.

‘You must rise above it. Show everybody by your own actions that you are a good man. Bear witness in your everyday life to the Christian virtues, and people will soon forget all this nastiness. You must rise, William. Rise!’

William gave him the downtrodden but faintly hopeful look of a dog that believes the scolding might be over. ‘What’ve I to do, exactly?’

Crooks examined him. ‘Smarten yourself up, to begin with. If a man is clean and shaven and his clothes are pressed and worn properly, he feels better about himself right away. Don’t slouch. Walk briskly. Hold up your head and look people in the eye. Do your work with energy and take pride in doing it well. Do all that, and people will take you at your own estimation.’

It sounded daunting to William, but Mr Crooks was waiting, so he made an effort to stand up straighter. ‘You’re very kind, Mr Crooks,’ he muttered.

Crooks laid a hand on his arm. ‘I’ll stand by you, William. And if you have any difficulties, come to me. Or to Mr Moss,’ he added, but it was a dutiful rather than a heartfelt addendum.

Giles was not alone with Giulia again. He made sure it didn’t happen. Usually she was in the company of the Arthurs, or at least of Mary, but he even grew wary of joining their party at all, making excuses to stay in his cabin alone. He no longer went up on deck after dinner, for fear Mary and Talbot should wander off together and leave him alone with Giulia.

He felt hideously guilty. It was a betrayal of all his affection for the Lombardi family, his gratitude towards Flavio and Lucia, his duty of care towards their daughter. Very well, it had been only one kiss, but she had called him her dearest – what emotions had he stirred up? He was a married man. And even if a married man took a mistress – which was not something he countenanced – it would never be the innocent unmarried daughter of a decent family. Such a thing was unthinkable.

After the toils and hardships of the Valley, the luxury of the ship wearied him but did not tire him out. There was not enough to do. The only physical exercise available was walking round the decks. His rested body began to feel different wants, and he could not sufficiently distract himself from its clamour. He began to have erotic dreams, in which, aching with desire, he pursued some woman along endless corridors, while she kept teasingly just out of reach, laughing and beckoning him on. In the dreams he never saw the woman clearly. He told himself one could not be responsible for one’s dreams, but it did not assuage his guilt.

He had always preferred to shave himself, and even after the demonstration in Cairo of Afton’s superior skills, he had insisted on wielding his own razor. But now, in his state of irritable languor, he began to allow Afton to shave him. Afton was an excellent servant, silent unless encouraged to speak, but ready to chat if required. Spending more time lying back looking up into Afton’s face, he could not but become aware that he was a handsome fellow, with a lean, firm-featured face and very blue eyes. He must, Giles thought, have been attractive to females. One morning, to distract himself, he spoke the thought aloud.

‘You must be quite a devil with the ladies. Have you ever been married?’

‘No, my lord,’ Afton answered easily. ‘Been close to it a few times.’ He glanced to see if conversation was wanted, and went on, ‘When I was younger, I didn’t have the time or money. Then I was in service – where, of course, you can’t marry. Then, with my own shop, I was too occupied with business to look for a wife. It’s a time-consuming thing if you’re going to do it right.’

‘And you would always want to do it right,’ Giles said.

‘No point otherwise, my lord. Whatever I’m doing, I want to do it as well as it can be done. And females, well, you can live without them, if you put your mind to it. But they’re so soft and pretty and beguiling, my lord, I can quite see that once you’d started you’d never be able to stop. So I don’t start. But perhaps one day, when I’ve got a bit saved and can settle down . . .’

‘You’re a wise man, Afton.’

‘Turn a little to the left, my lord, if you please.’

‘But don’t you . . . ?’ Giles hesitated.

‘Yes, my lord?’ Afton encouraged him.

‘There are – um . . . A man feels . . . certain – er – wants. Urges, perhaps. Don’t you find?’

‘Oh, yes. The body has a mind of its own, my lord, if I may put it that way.’ He pushed Giles’s face gently further to the left, to shave below his right ear, and went on, ‘The dreams, my lord – they can be insistent.’

How did he know? Giles thought. The man was a wizard. Or was it just coincidence?

‘But a man has no control over his dreams, my lord,’ Afton went on. ‘In my opinion, one should just, as it were, lie back and enjoy them.’