Page 62 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

Aunt Caroline went across to her writing desk, and scribbled a note. ‘You must go to Hortense, my dressmaker in Orchard Street. She will know exactly what you should wear, and she’ll make it up for you. You can trust her entirely – she has never let me down. This,’ she concluded, speaking as she wrote, ‘is a note of in-tro-duction to her, explain-ing the sit-u-ation. There!’ She signed and folded it and handed it to Nina. ‘Because she doesn’t often take on new customers.’

‘Thank you very much,’ Nina said, curbing the urge to go and put her head in her mentor’s lap. ‘You are so kind. I wish you were my aunt,’ she added, on impulse.

Aunt Caroline looked pleased and said, ‘Bless you, child. And don’t worry. It will all go by in a flash, and then you’ll wish it wasn’t over.’

The gardener’s boy, Wilf, was surprised to be waylaid at the entrance to the kitchen yard by one of the grooms, George.

‘’Ello, mate,’ George said, in a friendly manner. ‘What you got there?’

‘Veggibles for the kitchen. What’s it to you?’ Wilf said suspiciously.

‘I’ll take ’em for you,’ George said. ‘Save you the journey.’

It was only a few more yards. Wilf hugged the basket tighter to his chest. ‘What’s your game?’

George came clean. ‘I want to talk to somebody in the ’ouse. Go on, let me take it.’

‘I got to take the basket back,’ Wilf objected.

‘You wait here and I’ll bring it to you. Be a pal. Do the same for you one day.’

Wilf grinned. ‘Girl, is it?’

‘Might be,’ George admitted.

Wilf’s grin broadened, but he relinquished the basket. George had wiry fair hair that stood straight up no matter how much oil he put on, and rather round, pale blue eyes that looked startling in his brown face. ‘Coo-er! Love’s young dream!’ he said. ‘Go on – but don’t hang about. I’ll get me ear clipped if I’m not back with that ’ere basket.’

George grabbed it with a muttered ‘Thank you,’ and walked through the yard up to the back door with what he supposed to be a nonchalant air.

Luckily, one of the younger kitchen maids, Debbie, appeared just then with a mat to shake, and opened her eyes wide at the sight of him. ‘What you doing here? Is that our veg? Give it me. Why you bringing it, anyway?’

She took hold of one side of the basket, but George hung on to the other. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘Want to talk to somebody. Do us a favour, eh? Fetch Ada out here, will you?’

‘Why should I?’ Debbie said. ‘You’ll get me into trouble.’

‘Oh, go on! I just want to talk to her. Be a pal.’

Debbie sniffed. ‘I’ll see if I can find her. Stay out there – don’t go bringing your dirty boots in. I’m not cleaning up after you.’

George waited, shifting from foot to foot. He suddenly had a thought, licked his hand and pressed his hair down with it, squinted into the dark glass of the pantry window to see if his face was clean. And then Ada was there, dainty as a fairy, pale and golden as a princess, and was looking at him with an expression so blank she might have been a china doll. But she always looked like that, so it didn’t put him off. It was her absence in London for several weeks that had made him realise he had feelings for her.

‘’Ullo,’ he said, with an ingratiating smile.

‘’Ullo,’ Ada said. She’d been fancying George for months, and his sudden request to speak to her had set her heart thumping, but she’d never been a great talker. Her prettiness had always meant that other people made the running.

‘I’m glad you’re back,’ he said boldly. ‘Did you like London?’

‘It was all right.’

‘Didn’t decide to stay there, then? Big city? Bright lights and everything?’

She shook her head. Then, with a great effort, ‘I like it here.’

He was encouraged. ‘I like it when you’re here. Heard you had a bit of an adventure in London? Is that right, Mr Moss took you to the zoo? What’d he do that for?’

‘I dunno,’ she said.

‘What’s his game? Does he fancy you, then? He’s old enough to be your dad.’