Page 43 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

‘Especially as it means you can’t go off travelling again,’ Alice added.

‘I’m glad to be home,’ Giles said, and squeezed Kitty’s hand against his ribs.

Kitty felt the comfort of his presence, the strength of his arm under her hand and the warmth of his hand over hers. Yes, she thought, for the moment his longing to wander was satisfied. He would throw himself into home matters, and he would be good to her, kind, attentive. And perhaps by the time the baby came it would have become enough of a habit. Perhaps with two children in the nursery he would settle down, cease to see his home and family as chains, the Castle as a prison.

* * *

‘Vogel is cautiously in favour,’ Richard said, as he and Giles walked about Aunt Caroline’s rather gloomy, laurel-shaded garden, enjoying a cigar and the chance to get away from come-out talk. ‘Mr Cowling believes it can work—’

‘You’ve spoken to Cowling?’

‘I wanted to get as much done as I could before you came home. And, frankly, not knowing when you would come home, if you came at all, I saw no point in delaying. Why? Do you think I’ve gone beyond my remit?’

Giles hesitated. ‘I thought you were just keeping things going. This innovation . . . It would involve a considerable outlay of funds, and when would we see a return on the investment?’

‘Will, not would,’ Richard insisted. ‘You’ve talked about it before – the idea of going in for milk—’

‘Talked about it, but only in the vaguest terms.’

‘Well, it’s time to stop being vague. Bunce’s death gives us an opening and a spur. Adeane and Markham agree that we won’t get a decent tenant for Hundon’s as it is, so if we have to improve it, we might as well do it for ourselves: create a modern dairy farm and show the others the way.’

Giles shook his head. ‘The milk from one farm will hardly—’

‘Oh, I’ve got Shelloes and High Ashmore on board already. The Bottoms will come in, I’m pretty sure, when they see others jump. Topheath is mostly sheep, and Hillbrow may be too far from the road, but I think you should go and talk to Lord Shacklock. He has a fine herd, and plenty of money, too. Talk to him nicely and you might get him to invest in the scheme, as well as join it. And that opens the way to other farms further up the valley. This could be a very large scheme indeed.’

Giles frowned. ‘Why must I talk to him? If you’ve included him in your incontinent planning, you might as well do it yourself. I’m sure you’re more eloquent than me.’

‘Yes, and much prettier, too,’ Richard said, with a grin. ‘But you’re the earl. He’d expect any approach to come from the boss.’

‘Hmm. And what has Cowling to do with it?’ Giles asked half resentfully. ‘He’s already got a finger in our jam.’

‘Disturbing image! I didn’t ask him to invest at this stage, but he’s finding things out for us, regarding the transportation and the distribution.’

‘And why would he do that?’ Giles said.

‘Because he’s a businessman and likes to encourage enterprise. And because he’s a good old boy and loves his wife, so he wants to help his wife’s bosom friend’s family.’

That was what Giles was afraid of. It was bad enough having Cowling as an investor in the family fortune. He didn’t want to be beholden to him for disinterested kindness – not the man who had married Nina.

It was a warm evening on the night of the ball, and the multitude of candles made it even warmer inside Pelham House. That was very well for the women with their décolletage and bare shoulders, but for the male half, trussed up like turkeys in breeches and tight stockings, serge jackets, stocks and high collars, it was far less pleasant. Giles stood as still as possible and suffered in silence.

The house was dazzling, everything sparkling clean, with fresh paintwork and gilding, and flowers everywhere. Now London Society was making its way up the stairs to the reception line, to where the dowager glittered formidably in silver and purple with crystal beading, a pearl and diamond choker borrowed from Caroline, and a tiara hired from Garrard’s.

Giles stood beside his mother as the official host; Kitty was excused the line because of her condition. Rachel, next to his mother, did not seem, he noted, at all nervous. She had taken to it like a fish to water. When he told her that she looked beautiful, she had accepted the compliment calmly, almost as her due. She was in white, as a debutante should be, but it was ivory-white tulle over a pale pink silk under-dress, which better became her fairness. Her hair was dressed with pink and ivory rosebuds and she wore only chaste pearls, but everything about her toilette was of the first quality, the most elegant taste.

Moss was plainly enjoying himself. His chest well out, his back rigid, his head up, eyelids grandly lowered, he announced the arrivals in sonorous tones, the emphasis finely graded to rank and importance. He did not stumble over a single name or title, even when trickily foreign. It was, Giles thought, his finest performance. He might never top this moment; he would certainly never forget it.

Up the stairs they came, the beaded evening gowns, the black-and-white breeches and stockings, the pastel, hopeful girls, the young men eager or supercilious; names, titles, medals, jewels, faces. A watered ribbon of order here; a coloured jacket of a foreign army there. A bow of the head and a word of welcome from him and they were passed on. Giles slipped into a sort of dream, until his mother jolted him out of it with a hiss of outrage.

‘Giles! Who are those people?’

He jerked back to the present. The Arthurs were coming up the stairs with Giulia. They were appropriately dressed, but evidently not people of wealth or distinction. Giulia was in a beaded garnet-red dress, with dark red silk flowers in her hair. Not at all debutante-ish. She looked striking, even exotic.

‘Friends of mine,’ he muttered to his mother.

She leaned back to address him behind Rachel’s head. ‘You invited your university friends to my ball?’ She made university sound like music hall with a hint of seraglio.

Giles gave way for once to irritation. ‘I’m paying for this ball – I’ll invite who I damn well please,’ he whispered, and saw his mother flinch. Her nostrils flared and how dare you? was in every line of her visage, but she couldn’t quarrel with him now. She greeted the Arthurs with icy propriety. Rachel, who had no idea who they were, gave them a formal smile and looked over Giulia with quick assessment as she might any rival young lady. Giles tried to compensate with a hearty handshake and welcome; Mary Arthur raised an eyebrow and gave him an amused look.