Page 94 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘If you’d waited a bit I’d have come with you. I need to blow the cobwebs away.’

She writhed. ‘I could wait. Or you could catch me up.’

‘No, it’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a heap of letters to attend to. I really just wanted to ask you if I could borrow these.’ It was a sheaf of her pictures, the Gulliver ones.

‘What do you want them for?’

‘Oh, just to look at for a bit. They’re very good. I’ll take great care of them, I promise.’

She smiled tightly. ‘Yes, of course you can have them.’

‘Thanks. Go on, then – I can see you’re longing to be in the saddle. I envy you. Think of me toiling away at my desk while you’re galloping across the tops.’

She felt guilty. ‘I will wait, if you’re quick.’

‘No, go and enjoy yourself. You looked very pretty in the bridesmaid’s dress, by the way. That shade of yellow suits you.’

‘Jonquil,’ she said.

‘Is that what it’s called? Poor Gussie’s too ginger for it. I wonder Rachel didn’t pick a different shade for her – blue, perhaps.’ He held his musing expression for a moment for the pleasure of seeing Alice fidget agonisingly from one foot to the other, then grinned. ‘I’m just teasing you. Go!’

She went.

When your grandmother summoned you urgently by telegram and added the words DO NOT FAIL at the end, you went with all speed. Richard was relieved, on being shown upstairs at Bruton Street by the impervious Chaplin, to find Grandmère in her drawing-room calmly sipping linden tea.

‘No broken limbs, no visible bruises,’ he said. ‘No hovering doctor or militant lawyer. What have I been summoned to? The possibilities eliminated only leave worse ones to the imagination.’

‘What are you chattering about, ridiculous boy?’ she demanded, as he stooped to kiss her cheek. ‘Sit down. Do you wish coffee or tea?’

‘Neither. A large restorative brandy, please, Chaplin. I was summoned on a matter of life or death and have rushed here riven with dread.’

‘It is too early for brandy,’ she said, but she nodded to Chaplin, who oozed over to the decanter tray. ‘This habit of strong spirits in the daytime will be the ruin of society.’

‘Scold me all you wish, ma chère. It doesn’t hurt me and it gives you healthy exercise. But first reassure me that you are not souffrante.’

‘I am always well,’ she said. ‘You know better than to ask me. Thank you, Chaplin.’ She dismissed the butler. When he had gone, she looked at Richard, and her expression, her whole demeanour changed.

‘Oh, God!’ he said. ‘What’s happened?’

‘He is back,’ she said.

He knew at once whom she meant. Sir Thomas Burton. Immediately, images flooded into his mind, not of Sir Thomas but of Molly. Were they all here? Would he see her? Surely if she was in London she would not refuse to see him. Perhaps she’d had time to grow tired of life in America and would be malleable to his persuasion. Perhaps, now there had been a distance of time in which to reconsider, she might be brought to stay with him.

Grandmère rapped a fingernail on her saucer. ‘Fais attention!’

He pulled himself back. ‘You’ve seen him?’

‘No. Someone – not himself, but some serviteur of his – left his card and tickets to a concert. On the back of the card he has written “Please come.”’

‘So he’s in London. Is – is Lady Burton here? Is she performing? Is he staying?’

‘Too many questions. Be quiet and listen.’ He could see she was upset – which in itself was an indication because, like most of her generation, she did not like to show feelings. She sipped tea and gathered herself. ‘She is not here. You forget she is enceinte.’

‘Oh, God, yes, there was a letter back in—’

‘May. She must be close to her time by now, so she would hardly travel all this way, and certainly not perform.’ She gave a shocked little shake of the head. ‘Imagine how that would look!’

‘I’d rather not. So he is alone?’