The Woman from Kerry by Anne Doughty Page B

are generous,’ she said lightly, as she surveyed the other gleaming riding boots lined up on his bench.
    ‘Rose, a word, if you please.’
    The voice was intense, anxious and peremptory. It’s owner equally intense and anxious.
    ‘Mr Smithers,’ she said surprised.
    It was quite unheard off for Mr Smithers to leave the comfort of his room this early in the morning, unless something was seriously amiss.
    ‘The bell, Rose. It’s Lady Anne.’
    ‘Good gracious,’ Rose replied, too surprised to bother with the note of censure in his voice. ‘She must be ill.’
    ‘Ring immediately if you need assistance,’ he said pompously, as he disappeared back into his room.
    Rose hurried upstairs, gave a perfunctory knock at the door and was half way across the room before she discovered Lady Anne standing by the window in her dressing gown looking the picture of health.
    ‘Oh Rose, I’m sorry to ring so early, but I’m going out riding at eight o’clock. Do you think I should have some breakfast before I go?’
    ‘Yes, indeed I do,’ Rose said, as she sized up the situation.
    She’d never known Lady Anne breakfast in her room. By the time she went down, she was usually so late she would have to eat by herself, a copy of
Country Life
or
Hare and Hounds
propped against the teapot.
    ‘What would you like? Your usual, or something cooked?’
    ‘Oh, just my usual, Rose, but don’t you go,’ she said urgently, as she pulled vigorously on the bellrope. ‘Let someone else bring it up. I want to talk to you. Come and sit by the window with me, there’s a lovely view over the park and it’s
such
a beautiful morning.’
    Before Rose had quite recovered herself, there was a sharp knock at the door.
    ‘Come in,’ sang out Lady Anne cheerfully.
    Smithers himself walked into the room. He looked around him coldly with the merest inclination of his head towards Lady Anne.
    ‘Oh good, you have been quick, Smithers, I’d like my usual breakfast as soon as possible. I’m going riding shortly and I can’t spare Rose to go and fetch it.’
    ‘He did look cross, didn’t he, Rose,’ she added, with a giggle, as soon as the door had shut behind him.
    Rose laughed. Cross was the mildest word for it.
    ‘I think it’s rather below his dignity to serve breakfast to anyone except your father and mother,’ she said, as she sat down on the window seat.
    ‘Never mind silly old Smithers, I have something to ask you.’
    Rose had never seen her so animated. As she watched her trip lightly over to the window and lean back comfortably against the frame, she was sure she was even moving differently. There was a grace about her which suggested she’d just dropped off a heavy burden and was feeling enormous relief at being free of it.
    ‘How can you tell, Rose, if a man likes you?’ she began quickly. ‘I mean apart from what you said last night about being interested in what you’re interested in.’
    Rose ran through a mental list of all the male guests at dinner the previous evening. It didn’t help her to answer the question. The man who immediately came to mind was John Hamilton and you only had to look at him to know what he felt about you. But the men who had dined the previous evening at Currane Lodge were a different kettle of fish.
    ‘Well, partly it depends on the man,’ she began slowly. ‘Different ones have different ways of expressing themselves. Some would be very complimentary. Some might be very attentive and fuss over you. I think I might need to know more about the man in question, if there is one.’
    ‘Lord Harrington,’ she burst out. ‘He took me in to dinner last night and we talked and talked. I think horrible, old Captain O’Shea got quite cross. After dinner, when we were standing looking out the window together, he came up and clapped him on the shoulder so hard he spilt his wine on my dress. Lord Harrington was
so
upset, but Captain O’Shea didn’t even apologise. I told Lord Harrington not to