Page 113 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘That was dinner, Monday evening. After dinner we played cards.’

‘I remember that. You bid three no trumps without proper cover in diamonds. Kitty was furious.’

‘Kitty’s never furious. What else?’

‘Went to bed. Then – nothing.’

‘Arbogast says it’s not unusual to have amnesia after a severe blow on the head. He said the memory sometimes comes back after a few days, especially if something prompts it. When you’re better, we’ll ride out to Long Wood and see if anything comes back to you.’

Richard moved to get up. ‘I’m better now.’

Giles pushed him back. ‘Not until Arbogast gives you the once-over. I’m not risking losing you again.’ He gave him a taut look, and said, ‘Made me realise how important you are to me. Perhaps I don’t say it often enough, but I’m damned fond of you, little brother. And you’re to take care of yourself until your head is officially better.’

Richard settled back on the pillows. To be truthful, he didn’t feel all that good, and moving had made his head swim. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Just so long as I get a shave. I feel as if I’ve got a hedgehog nesting on my face.’

‘Afton can shave you,’ Giles said.

‘I’ll shave myself.’

‘No, you won’t. Until you’ve been shaved by Afton, you don’t know what luxury truly is. And when Arbogast says you’re no longer at death’s door, we’ll ride out together and see if Long Wood sparks any memories.’

Giddins asked to see Giles, and told him that he had heard something from Sam Orde. ‘It’s not always easy to understand what he means, my lord—’

`Yes, I know,’ said Giles.

‘But it seems when he found Mr Richard, there were certain marks in the ground. You know how the track under the trees there is soft earth and pine needles? There were what I gather were deep gouges, and as far as I can make it out, he thinks Mr Richard must have dragged himself along for some distance. So although he was found at the edge of the wood, my lord, his accident probably happened further back.’

‘Thank you, Giddins,’ Giles said. ‘I’m not sure that makes any difference, but it’s good to know. Orde didn’t see any evidence of what Mr Richard might have hit himself on?’

‘No, my lord. I’m wondering if he went off the track for some reason, deeper into the woods. I can’t explain it otherwise.’

Giles shook his head. ‘We’ll just have to wait until his memory comes back.’

It wasn’t until a few days later that Giles told Richard Lord Shacklock was dead. ‘They found him that same evening – the day you had your accident. He shot himself.’

Dr Arbogast had insisted that Richard have a full week in bed, saying you couldn’t be too careful with head wounds, so he was not able to go to Shacklock’s funeral. He would have felt awkward about going in any case, given the bad blood there had been between them, so he was glad of the excuse.

Giles brought back news as it was told to him. Lord Bexley, the local magistrate, had told him confidentially that Shacklock’s death was being put down as an accident to save the family shame, but there didn’t seem much doubt that it was deliberate. He’d been found in one of the outlying barns. ‘Wedged the gun stock against a straw bale and the muzzle under his chin. Made quite a mess of himself.’ They were putting it about that he had gone there to shoot rats and must have stumbled over something in the dark.

‘Between you and me,’ Bexley had said to Giles, ‘the last thing the neighbourhood wants is a scandal. Shacklock wasn’t much respected and that wife of his – well, I won’t speak ill of a lady, but the eldest boy is sound and one wouldn’t want to jeopardise his career from the beginning. And in fairness, no-one can say for certain it wasn’t an accident. I was prepared to have a discreet word with Fothergill – the coroner, you know – but he came to the same conclusion on his own, so that’s the end of the matter.’

Representing the family, Giles attended the funeral with Uncle Sebastian, who was back from Henley. It was a very grand affair, as the funeral of an earl on his own estate should be, with four black horses, plumed and caparisoned, drawing the hearse, dozens of mourners’ carriages behind, and estate workers and villagers lining the way. The church of St Michael and All Angels was filled with hothouse flowers – Ashridge Park famously had half an acre of greenhouses, much of it heated, but even so cartloads must have been sent down from London. The widow, Giles reported, was a sight in her own right, in a black velvet gown sewn all over with jet beads and spars, and an enormous black hat with plumes and crows’ wings and a black veil that came almost down to her waist. At the graveside she threw a hothouse lily down onto the coffin, and then collapsed artistically into her eldest stepson Elliot’s arms.

Richard was out of bed and in the library with Giles a few days later when that same Elliot, the new Lord Shacklock, paid a visit. He was tall, like his father, but with more harmonious features, presumably inherited from his late mother, which made the famous beak of a nose look noble rather than threatening. Coming out from his father’s shadow, he proved to have pleasant manners.

‘I’m afraid there was bad blood between our family and yours in my father’s time, and I’m sorry for it. I want you to know that I’d like this to be the beginning of a new era. As neighbours in the same interest, we ought to be on good terms, and I see no reason why we can’t be.’

‘I honour your frankness,’ Giles said, ‘And I’d like nothing better.’

The young man gave an uncertain smile. ‘I’ve not been allowed to do a great deal about the estate. My father liked to decide everything himself, so I’m sure I’ll make mistakes.’

‘If there’s anything I can do to help, I am at your service,’ Giles said. ‘I’ve had to learn as I went along, so I know how you feel. My father died suddenly and I’d never had anything to do with the estate until then. I may not be the best mentor for you, but anything I do know you’re welcome to.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ he said. ‘I feel sure co-operation is the way forward. And on that subject, I would like to talk to you at some point about joining your milk scheme. My father, well, he blew hot and cold on it, according to the circumstances of the moment.’

‘We’d be delighted to have you with us. Your herd is very fine. But it’s my brother who’s really in charge of that,’ Giles said, with a gesture towards Richard.

Richard, who had been trying for years to get the Shacklock herd to join, could only think of one serious possible drawback. But Elliot went straight to the heart of it.