Page 40 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

Ellen was excited about the trip. ‘You never know but what there may be an opportunity for me,’ she said to Rose. ‘Some lady needing her hair put up or a gown pinned or something. I could show what I can do, and if, say, they were looking for a lady’s maid . . .’

Rose snorted. ‘You go on thinking like that,’ she said. ‘As if anyone at the ball of the Season is going to notice a maid!’

‘Still,’ Ellen said defiantly, ‘there’s all these girls going to get married soon, and they’ll be needing a maid for the first time—’

‘They won’t remember you by the time they get married. Anyway, what about your Tom?’ Ellen was walking out with Tom Trapper, the chimney-sweep’s son. ‘If you get a lady’s maid job you’ll be moving away and that’ll be that.’

‘Oh, Tom . . .’ Ellen said consideringly. She was fond of him, and she liked the distinction of having a steady walk-out, unlike the other maids. On the other hand . . . ‘Tom’s nice, but he always smells a bit of soot, no matter how much he washes. And I’d get to meet lots of smart London valets.’

‘Oh, yes. Like Mr Speen,’ Rose said. ‘He was smart all right.’

‘Ooh, Rose, you mustn’t speak ill of the dead! Anyway, I bet you wouldn’t say no to a nice valet, if you was asked.’

Rose snorted. ‘I’ve had enough of men to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. We’d all be better off without them. London’s going to be hard work, and don’t you forget it.’

There was always the chance of nice tips, though Rose didn’t mention that. But when the time came, she didn’t go at all. She woke on the morning of departure coughing, sneezing, and streaming at the eyes, and was obviously not fit to be taken. Moss was quite put out, having expected her to keep a firm hand on the maids when they were in London. Mrs Webster, however, put an end to his dithering. ‘Of course she can’t go. You’d have your entire staff down with it. You had better take Dory.’

‘But she’s not a housemaid,’ Moss objected, his brow furrowed.

‘She’s done most things in her time, and she’s older and sensible and will keep the younger ones in order.’ And seeing he was still doubtful, she added, ‘Having a skilled needle-woman in the house can only be an advantage, given all the new gowns that will be coming through the door. Her ladyship will think you’ve shown initiative.’

So Dory was told to pack her bag. She was not sorry to get away for a bit, for the sense of Sebastian’s brooding sadness haunted the house for her. And though she had avoided London ever since she ran away, surely there was no chance of bumping into Jack as long as she stayed inside the house.

In Portman Square, Moss discovered, to his pleasure, that her ladyship was sparing no expense. A large number of extra local staff had already been employed, and were busy cleaning – though not busy enough, to his mind. He strode in and chivvied them up. Everything had to be cleaned to the highest standard: floors, woodwork and furniture waxed and rubbed to a glow, carpets, curtains and upholstery beaten, windows and mirrors polished, ornaments and chandeliers washed. After inspecting the house on the first day, Moss opined to her ladyship that some of the paintwork was not up to standard. He was relieved and proud that she accepted his suggestion and instructed him to hire decorators to repaint anything he thought needed it – an instruction he decided included a little bit of re-gilding.

There were all sorts of arrangements to be made for the ball itself. Carpenters had to build a dais for the orchestra. Rout-chairs had to be hired for the ballroom, and an expert had to come and inspect the floor for springing, and to chalk it on the day. There would be tubs of flowers for the entrance, the reception hall and the ballroom. A huge number of candles to order. A card-room had to be set up: tables and chairs hired, new packs of cards, pencils and ashtrays purchased. The police would be needed to keep the crowds back from the entrance and to direct the traffic. The supper was entirely in the hands of the caterers, but suitable rooms had to be prepared.

A room had to be cleared just off the reception hall for coats – Moss told James he would be in charge of that on the night. It needed an experienced hand to make sure the right mantle went to the right person, and James was very happy to accept the responsibility, with its opportunity for tips and possibly the odd bit of ‘lost property’. And ladies’ and gentlemen’s dressing-rooms had to be prepared upstairs. He would have put Rose in charge of the ladies’ on the night, but he saw now that Mrs Webster had been right and that Dory would do even better. Evening gowns with trains, combined with heat, excitement, flirting and dancing, were a recipe for sartorial mishaps, and a skilled sewing-maid in the dressing-room would be regarded as a thoughtful addition to the ball.

Moss bestrode the house like a Colossus, directing, controlling, anticipating, answering questions and solving problems. He felt ten years younger and a foot taller, and though her ladyship would not demean herself to comment, he thought he saw a look of approval when she happened to pass him. More importantly, he saw Ada’s eyes fixed on him in what he decided was deep admiration – almost awe.

The presence of Lady Linda was something of a drawback, as she had always had a tendency to meddle, but Moss found he could keep her out of his way by asking her to deal with the outsiders who were not in his remit, like the caterers, the florist, and the commissioner of police.

Lady Rachel he barely saw, except as she passed through the hall on her way to or from an engagement. She seemed in fine looks, and buoyed up with excitement, which was as it should be. When he contemplated what all this must be costing, it was just as well, he thought, that she was so very pretty. She sometimes threw him a distracted smile in passing, and just once she addressed him, as he happened to be in the hall when she was leaving for a party, and held the door open for her. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Moss,’ she said. ‘It makes me feel everything will go off all right.’

‘I’m sure everything will, my lady,’ he said.

‘I’m frightfully nervous,’ she confided, glancing up at him with a shy smile that took him back to her schoolroom days.

He became human, and his smile was fatherly. ‘There’s no need, my lady. You will be the belle of the ball. All will be well.’

‘Thank you, Moss,’ she said, with a look that was as good as a kiss on the cheek, and whisked herself away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Vogel, the family’s banker, approved Richard’s dairy plan, as far as it went. ‘The estate needs investment, and with agricultural prices as low as they are, it’s good to think about moving in a new direction. We can’t go on in the same ancestral way.’

‘I’m glad you agree,’ said Richard. ‘When I say the same thing to the tenants they shake their heads and give me the look that says, “Impetuous young devil. You’ll learn!”’

Vogel laughed. ‘I know that look well.’

‘It’s the silent resistance. They think I’ll just talk myself into exhaustion, and then they can go back to what they were doing before I lost my mind.’

‘That’s human nature, sir – we all cling to what we know. But, to be fair, your plan is a significant departure from the past, and it needs thinking out carefully.’

‘Yes, I know. And I know just who to turn to for the thinking.’

It was convenient that the Cowlings had taken a house just on the other side of the square to Aunt Caroline, where Richard stayed when in London.