Page 89 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘That makes me feel better,’ Nina said. ‘I’m glad Mr Cowling sent you. How long can you stay?’

‘Oh, I’m only part of the surprise. Come outside and see.’

Standing out in front of the house – and already drawing the attention of some local urchins – was a black and gleaming motor-car, with shiny brass and heavily buttoned green leather seats.

‘Oh, goodness! Is it yours?’ Nina exclaimed.

He laughed. ‘Not even on my extremely generous salary could I afford it! Mr Cowling hired it for the day so that I could take you for an outing. Isn’t it a beauty? It’s a Lanchester, twenty-eight horsepower.’

‘It can’t possibly be as strong as twenty-eight horses. Think what a load they could pull!’

‘It’s not about pulling, it’s about lifting.’

‘Horses don’t lift.’

He gave her a patient look. ‘Picture a weight, suspended by a rope, hanging down over a cliff, with the rope passed over a pulley at the top of the cliff, and attached to a horse’s harness. If you lead the horse forward, it will pull the rope over the pulley and the weight will come up. I could draw a diagram if it would help.’

‘No need, I can imagine that. So the horse, walking forward, is “lifting” the weight?’

‘That’s right. And one horsepower means the force needed to raise five hundred and fifty pounds one foot in one second.’

‘How do they know that’s what a horse can do? And is it a great Shire horse or a little Dartmoor pony?’

‘There, you see, there’s nothing wrong with your brain.’

‘Thank you. But about the horse—?’

‘Doesn’t matter. It’s an agreed unit of measurement for a motor-engine, that’s all, regardless of what horses could do in real life. You might as well question what the weight is doing hanging over the cliff in the first place!’

‘That was going to be my next question,’ she said, laughing. ‘Oh, I do like talking to you! I feel like a new person. So who is going to drive this splendid collection of horses?’

‘I shall,’ he said, with no little pride.

She looked at him. ‘Can you?’

‘Certainly. I was practising all the way here and it’s not at all difficult. But we have an engineer with us, in case the idea makes you nervous.’ He gestured, and she only then noticed a man standing patiently off to one side, a freckled, curly-haired young man in a fawn dust coat and a flat cap with goggles pushed up over it. ‘You have to have an engineer in case it goes wrong, though motor-cars are much more reliable nowadays. Simpson here has been watching me and he thinks I am quite capable of driving you safely.’ Simpson grinned assent. ‘So dash inside, Mrs Cowling, and put on your hat and coat, and we’ll be off.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Wherever you want.’

Nina thought for a moment. ‘Just out,’ she said.

Mr Cowling was back, pleased that Nina had enjoyed her outing with Decius in the motor-car, more than ready to go straight upstairs with her and inspect the baby. Amelia was awake, having just been fed. She looked tiny in his big hands. One cradled her head in a manner that had already become expert, and he gazed down into her face as she gazed up into his, learning each other.

When the nursemaid took back the now sleepy baby to put her down, Cowling said, ‘I went up to the house on my way back from the station. It’s not fully furnished yet, and there are a few details to iron out, but I think it’s fit for you to see it, if you’d like?’

‘Of course I would! I’ve been eaten by curiosity for weeks.’

She had no idea what to expect, except that it would be grand. Her first sight was of the Queen Anne roadside façade, which seemed reassuringly unchanged.

‘I’d have added some columns and fancy stuff,’ he said, when she commented on it, ‘but young Leathwaite said it was exceptionally pure, whatever that means, and I think you like it like this, don’t you? We’ve done all the building at the back.’

‘All the building?’ she queried

‘Why d’you think it took so long? We’ve almost doubled the size of the place. Wait till you see inside!’

Inside there was a strong smell of paint and new plaster, which he promised would soon fade. The original dining-room, with the vast marble fireplace he had admired, now had a marble floor and fluted rectangular marble pilasters to go with it, and was the reception hall. The original drawing-room, with the French windows onto the terrace, was now the dining-room. It contained a new mahogany dining-table, shining like a dark lake. ‘That’ll seat twelve as it is,’ he said, ‘but there’s extra leaves to put in so it’ll take twenty-four.’