Page 73 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

Surely, Giles wondered, he could not have designs on Mary Arthur. She was a handsome woman, but no-one could suppose she was the kind of married woman who might conduct an affair. And Stuffy had never been that way inclined anyway, as far as Giles was aware. He had never known him show interest in any female.

‘What will you do when Giulia goes back to Italy – which she must, sooner or later?’ he asked.

Stuffy frowned. ‘Not sure I care for your calling her by her first name like that. Not respectful.’

‘But you must remember, Uncle, I’ve known her since she was a child. She’s like a little sister to me.’

Stuffy’s face cleared. ‘Ah, of course! Just so. Well, that’s all right, then.’

‘You’ll be going out of Town soon, won’t you? You’ve never stayed so long before.’

‘Helping Maud out with little Rachel. Got to do m’duty. Thought you’d have gone down before now, though – estate to run and so on.’

‘I’m going down tomorrow,’ said Giles.

‘Ah, good! Well, I expect I’ll be off too, before long. Just making hay while the sun shines,’ Stuffy said, with a twinkle. ‘You young fellers mustn’t expect to carry all before you!’

‘Carry all of what?’ Giles asked, puzzled. What on earth was he talking about? But Stuffy just laughed and wandered away.

Alice took Rose with her to Hundon’s, and between them they put in the welcoming touches.

‘I was never in here before, my lady,’ Rose said, as they looked around. ‘It’s a big old place, isn’t it?’

‘Used to be even bigger,’ Alice said. ‘My brother says it was a proper manor house once, but half of it’s fallen down over the years, and the wood and stone have been carried away to mend other buildings.’

‘I s’pose that’s why it’s got such big windows,’ Rose said. ‘Nice in their way, but makes it hard to keep it warm.’

‘There are shutters on the outside for the cold weather,’ Alice said. ‘The Bunces never bothered with curtains.’

‘Wasn’t anyone to look in at ’em, set back the way the house is,’ Rose said. Dory had made red and white gingham curtains for the kitchen windows, and she set about hanging them. ‘These’ll look cheerful, anyway. Make it more homelike.’ She tied the curtains back with a bit of red ribbon, and put a clay pot of thyme on the windowsill in the centre, pinching the leaves to release the scent.

More furniture, belonging to the Woodrows, had arrived by carrier and been installed, but the house still looked rather bare. Alice and Rose moved the pieces around to make the best of them. Richard had had a load of wood and coal sent up, and Rose laid fires ready to light, while Alice arranged flowers in jugs, and dusted around. She primed the kitchen pump and filled a big kettle, Rose lit the kitchen range, and they put the kettle on the slow plate to heat.

The dogs, who had been lying in a patch of sunshine on the kitchen flags, lifted their heads, listening, then jumped up, and a moment later Michael Woodrow came in through the door from the yard, followed by a woman. He stopped abruptly at the sight of them.

Alice stepped forward, offering her hand. ‘I hope we didn’t startle you. I’m Alice Tallant, from up at the Castle. We were just making sure the house was ready for you. I wasn’t expecting you quite so soon.’

‘I know who you are, my lady. I’ve seen you from a distance.’ Woodrow shook her hand. ‘Martha’s train was a bit early. My sister Martha, my lady.’

Woodrow was a well set-up, fair young man with a pleasant, open face, somewhat weather-reddened, and unruly mouse-fair hair. His sister stepped forward, very tall, and so thin she seemed gaunt. She looked a good bit older; not much like him in feature, but the same fair hair, going grey and dragged into a strict bun at the back. Her hand was bony and red; she didn’t smile.

‘We’ve put the kettle on to boil,’ Alice said, ‘and there’s a basket of provisions my brother sent up from the house – bread and butter, eggs and ham and so on, just a few things to tide you over.’

‘It’s very kind of you, and his lordship,’ Woodrow said, seeming pleased. He was automatically making much of the dogs as he spoke; they had ignored his silent sister and made straight for him.

‘And Rose has laid the fires ready for you,’ Alice went on. ‘This is Rose Hawkins – she’s head housemaid at the Castle. I know it’s warm outside, but these old houses can be cold inside at night, specially when they’ve been empty for a while.’

Martha Woodrow gave Rose a glance that might have been thanks, and looked away again. Woodrow looked into Rose’s face with frank interest, and shook her hand, too. ‘Thank you, Miss Hawkins,’ he said. ‘You’re very kind.’ His hand seemed to hold on to hers for longer than was strictly necessary. Rose met his eyes, and found herself blushing.

‘Well,’ said Alice, ‘we’d better leave you to get settled in. It was nice to meet you properly at last. And you, Miss Woodrow.’

Woodrow sprang to open the door for her. The dogs shot past, jostling Rose so that she swayed against him, and he steadied her with a touch on her elbow, and smiled at her – the sort of smile that warmed you, like sunshine, or golden butter on hot toast.

Outside, starting off for the Castle again, Alice said, ‘That went well. I’m glad we did it. They seem like good people. His sister was a bit shy, I thought.’

‘Yes, my lady,’ Rose said. ‘I expect the house is bigger than she’s used to. It’ll take some keeping clean.’

‘Yes, I suppose she might feel a bit daunted. But he’s very nice,’ Alice went on. ‘He has a nice smile.’