Page 55 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

She shook herself. ‘Of course not. I was being foolish. Pay no attention.’ Mary knew it was not usual for English earls to exert themselves to be kind to obscure penniless girls. But Giles had always been unusually accessible, and perhaps his uncle was the same. The attention was a favour to Giles. Lord Leake would show them round the House of Lords, and that would be that. She changed the subject. ‘I thought that on the day after tomorrow we might visit the Wallace Collection.’

‘What is there?’

‘Some very fine statuary and paintings. Nothing very old, but I think you’ll enjoy it.’

‘You were wonderful at the ball, Mr Moss,’ said Doris at breakfast. ‘We was watching from up the stairs when all the people arrived, and you announcing them, all those funny names, and Lord This and Lady That. How’d you ever know how to pronounce ’em?’

‘Oh, it comes with experience,’ Moss said, lofty but pleased.

‘And your voice, it sounded so – sort of rich. You could hear every word,’ Doris went on, gazing up at him admiringly.

Moss glanced at Ada, two places further down the table. She was not looking at him, but at her plate where she was cutting into a sausage, but he was sure she was listening. ‘Ah, the penetrating voice has to be developed,’ he said. ‘When I was younger, I used to go out into the fields where I would disturb nobody, and practise projecting my voice at the distant trees. I believe famous actors do the same.’

Between Doris and Ada, Ellen was choking into her apron, and under the table Doris gave her a helpful pinch to sober her up. Dory gave both of them a savage glance and raised a question about the day’s duties to distract him.

A little while later they left the table, and Ellen, hustling Doris along with arms linked, muttered into her ear, ‘Why d’you suck up to Mr Moss like that? I nearly died laughing.’

‘I wasn’t sucking up,’ Doris said indignantly. ‘I was just being respectful, and – well, you never know how it might help. If he likes you he could put in a good word for you. You could do with being nicer to him, if you want to get on. You’ve not got so far with your lady’s-maiding, have you?’

Ellen looked gloomy. So far, being at Pelham House had done her no good at all. No grand lady had said to her, ‘You are exactly what I’m looking for for my daughter’s personal servant.’ No-one had had a crisis of hair or fastenings right in front of her.

‘I don’t see him favouring you, anyway,’ she retorted. ‘It’s that Ada he talks nice to, for all she never says a word back, far as I can tell.’

‘Early days,’ said Doris. ‘I’ll keep working on him.’

‘Good luck to it!’ Ellen said sniffily. But then she giggled too. ‘It was funny, though, wasn’t it, about him shouting at the trees?’ And they walked off, heads together, sniggering.

Moss, meanwhile, detained Ada on her way out. He had been feeling tired recently, though he put it down to his exertions at the ball. The memory of his performance there had sustained him during the anti-climax that had followed. He would be remembered by all the guests. They might not know his name, but in years to come as they recalled treading up those stairs, they would see in their mind’s eye the magnificent figure of the major-domo who controlled and directed everything, the lynch-pin of the evening.

And it was heartening to know that the maids had witnessed and appreciated it. Doris’s praise gave him the impetus to put his long-cherished plan into operation. It was the right moment. There was only one more grand dinner party to come, and then the Castle servants would be sent home. And back at the Castle it would be harder for him to get Ada alone. There were always so many people watching you.

He called her to him. As she gazed up at him, his heart fluttered strangely, making his legs feel weak for a moment. It was love, he thought. His affection and desire to protect her had deepened into a powerful love. She was very young, but once he had betrothed her to him, he could wait for marriage. Today he would take that first step. He would make a special day for her, and crown it with his proposal.

It was Sunday, so they would be at leisure after luncheon. And, as if the Almighty favoured his plans, it was a fine day. ‘This afternoon I am going to visit the zoological gardens at Regent’s Park, and I would like you to accompany me. It will be both educational and amusing. We shall look at the animals, then take tea in the tea-rooms there. We shall leave after luncheon and take the omnibus.’

‘Yes, Mr Moss,’ said Ada. Her pretty face was always rather inexpressive, so she didn’t show her disappointment. She didn’t want to go to the zoo with Mr Moss. One of the Pelham House maids had suggested walking in St James’s Park to see the pelicans and then to the bandstand where there was bound to be jolly music and interesting young men in uniform with whom to flirt. She had been fancying George, one of the grooms at Ashmore Castle, but so far he hadn’t shown any sign of noticing her; and besides, he was there and she was here and there was never any harm in flirting. But it never occurred to her to refuse Mr Moss. He was the butler, and all-powerful. So she just said, ‘Yes, Mr Moss,’ and thought about her straw hat, to which she had just fixed a new ribbon. She had been going to sew on a bunch of artificial daisies to go to St James’s Park, but she wouldn’t bother now.

Conveniently, the omnibus went up Gloucester Place, right past Portman Square, so they caught it on the corner. As the horses plodded northwards he told her about the history of the zoo, and some of the astonishing animals that had been housed there in the past, like the quagga and the thylacine. He recounted how it had always been supposed that wild animals from foreign lands would not be able to survive outside in England’s climate, but how recently they had tried moving some of them out of doors and found they thrived. ‘So it is much easier to view them,’ he concluded. ‘It will create a richer experience for us, I believe.’

‘Yes, Mr Moss,’ Ada said obediently.

He wished she would look up at him, but she was staring out of the window, and as he looked down, the brim of her straw hat obscured all but the tip of her nose and the scimitar curve of her eyelashes. He fed on them for the rest of the journey.

When they descended from the omnibus, he escorted her across the road – a rare opportunity to touch her as he cupped her elbow to guide her between the traffic. He paid for their entrance and bought for a penny a folding paper plan that showed where everything was. He had already looked up in his A to Z of Universal Knowledge some interesting facts about a few of the animals, and paused now to find their location and devise a route. He had meant to tell her as they walked what they were going to see, but for some reason he found walking and talking at the same time made him rather breathless, so he waited until they stopped by the animal in question before beginning.

He had been sure she would be taken by the giraffes and, sure enough, they astonished her – she had never seen even a picture of one before. Staring up at them revealed her face to Moss, and he was happy to stand there for as long as she wanted, telling her that the pattern on their skin was intended for concealment, and even, when she showed signs of having looked enough, redirecting her gaze by explaining that the horns were not an outgrowth of the skull, but became attached to it in the animal’s maturity.

The camel house was a success, and he regaled her with their ability to store water in their humps, and the large feet that stopped them sinking into the sand. She seemed not to care for the orangutan or the kudu, but was entranced by the bright colours of the parrots and seemed in no hurry to leave them. Moss had not prepared anything on parrots, but he was feeling the heat rather – it was a particularly fine, sunny day – and he was glad to stand in silence for a while. Indeed, it was so hot that, after a look at the plan, he directed them next to the Aquarium where they could go inside and cool down.

It proved very soothing, watching the brightly coloured fish cruise aimlessly about, and his spirits began to revive. The tigers and lions were next on his mental list, but though it was early for tea, he found himself consumed with the desire for a cup. He really was very thirsty. Well, he was in charge, and could order them to tea whenever he pleased. Better, in any case, to get in before the inevitable rush. On a sunny Sunday in May, the zoo was well-frequented.

‘I think we shall have tea next,’ he said, as he guided Ada to the Aquarium exit.

‘Yes, Mr Moss,’ she said.

As they stepped outside again into the sunshine, he felt his tiredness come down like a weight on his shoulders, and at the same time his forehead broke out in a sweat. He removed his hat and dabbed at it with his handkerchief, not wishing her to see him with moisture running down his face. It was strange, because in the normal way he hardly ever sweated. He thought it common to perspire. He mopped, and the sun beat down and made him squint, and he drew an involuntary great sigh that seemed to do nothing towards inflating his lungs. He felt dizzy and tried to take a deep breath, and it was strangely difficult.

‘Are you all right, Mr Moss?’ he heard Ada say.