a pleasant one even if the reason for your visit is not.’ His words were cordial enough but he did not smile or meet her eyes. For the first time in many years, Mrs Cash felt awkward. She had come here expecting to assess the Duke’s suitability as a match for her daughter, but the man before her was not acting like a suitor. Perhaps he was not aware of the prize that was within his grasp. But from what she had seen of Lulworth, he could not afford to be indifferent.
She replied in her most gracious tones. ‘Your Grace has been most kind in taking in my unfortunate daughter. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t found her. A young girl, alone and hurt and so far from home.’
The Duke replied, ‘Oh, I don’t think she would have come to much harm in an English beech wood, and from what little I have seen of your daughter, she seems more than able to take care of herself. American girls have so much spirit.’
Mrs Cash was not encouraged by this speech. It sounded as if the Duke had judged her daughter and found her wanting. She felt at a disadvantage, an entirely unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation.
The Duke led the way into the dining room where they were joined, rather to Mrs Cash’s surprise, by a priest.
‘Mrs Cash, may I present Father Oliver. He is writing a history of Lulworth and the Maltravers.’
The priest, whose face was as perfectly round and smooth as a balloon, advanced towards her beaming. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs Cash. I am so fond of your country. I was in New York only last year staying with Mrs Astor. What a peerless woman. Such manners! And taste!’
Mrs Cash smiled weakly. She wondered if Father Oliver knew that her acquaintance with the fabled Mrs Astor was not as intimate as she would like. Was everyone here determined to wrong-foot her? She might throw the most talked-about parties in Newport but so far Mrs Astor had never accepted one of her invitations. It was one of the reasons that she was so anxious for Cora to marry splendidly. Even Mrs Astor could not look down on a duchess, or the mother of a duchess.
But despite the Duke’s apparent indifference to her, she noticed that he beckoned her to sit at his left so that the undamaged side of her face would be turned towards him, even though as the only woman present she should have been on his right. Mrs Cash was surprised and grateful at this tactful gesture. Father Oliver sat on the other side of the table. Father Oliver said grace, to which the Duke said Amen very loudly. The food was, as she had predicted, barely lukewarm.
They ate their soup in silence and then the Duke said, ‘I’m afraid you will find us very quiet here, Mrs Cash. My mother used to entertain on a grand scale, but now that she has moved to Conyers the parties have gone with her. My mother is so wonderfully energetic.’ He said the word ‘mother’ with a peculiar emphasis, almost as if he was calling their relationship into doubt.
‘Why, the quiet couldn’t be more delightful,’ Mrs Cash assured him. ‘Cora and I came to Europe after a hectic summer in Newport. We had nearly a thousand guests for Cora’s coming-out ball. People were kind enough to say that it was the event of the season. But after my accident,’ Mrs Cash fluttered her hand towards her cheek, ‘the doctors said I must rest and recover my strength.’ She watched the Duke’s face carefully but he did not react to the mention of the thousand guests.
‘Did you have a pleasant crossing, Mrs Cash?’ asked Father Oliver solicitously. ‘No storms in the Atlantic, I trust. My last journey was so rough that some of the passengers were asking me to hear their confessions! I became quite the parish priest for the upper deck.’ Father Oliver was talking too much and too fast, but he had been at Lulworth for six weeks now, and too many meals had been eaten in silence. There had been few visitors and none like Mrs Cash. He had been asked to write the history by