John Blayne shrugged his shoulders. “I yield. Sir Richard — as an American, I’m trained to chivalry. Ladies first.”
Sir Richard laughed. He was enjoying the contest. “Very nicely put, I must say! Did you hear that, my dear? Trained to chivalry he says — very nice, for an American, eh?”
Lady Mary met smile with smile. “He’s much better than expected.”
“Thank you,” John Blayne said. “And now, if I may confess it, I’m delighted to accept your invitation to luncheon, Lady Mary.”
She inclined her head and nodded to Wells. “Lay another place, Wells, and use the silver soup tureen.” She glanced at the waiting men. “And in the small dining hall, just the three of us.”
“Very good, my lady.” Wells disappeared.
Through all this, Kate had waited in stiff patience. Lady Mary, it seemed, had forgotten the controversy and perhaps Sir Richard wanted it forgotten. Well, she insisted upon it. She turned to face them and spoke with firmness. “Mr. Blayne, pray proceed.”
He answered with a sort of desperate gaiety.
“You have the floor, I believe, Miss Wells. No? Very well, then. Sir Richard, she’s right — I’m planning a great piece of folly — quite terrible, in fact. I do plan to take it away.”
Kate ignored the gaiety. “Sir Richard, it’s the castle he’s taking away.”
Silence fell. Lady Mary broke it faintly, “Did you say away, Kate?”
“To America, my lady.”
“To America?” Lady Mary echoed in a whisper. Then the monstrous meaning crept into her understanding. “Richard — he’s taking the castle to America!”
Sir Richard went white, then the red came flashing up from his neck. He was suddenly half blind with pain stabbing at his temples. “Mr. Blayne, I don’t understand.”
“I can’t blame you, Sir Richard,” John Blayne said gently. “It’s my fault. We should have had our lawyers handle the transaction — I’m always too informal — too impetuous — but I thought my letter would explain everything — would be enough …”
He reached into his pocket for a piece of paper which he unfolded and laid on the table. “Here’s what I had in mind.” It was a sketch of the castle, not in English meadows but against wooded hills.
Lady Mary fumbled for her spectacles, put them on and stared at the few words in the lower left corner. “Conn-Conn-”
“Connecticut,” he said.
“What an odd name,” she observed. “Is it the name of the artist?”
Sir Richard looked at it with detached interest. Nothing could matter until this hammer in his head ceased to pound. He forced himself to speak.
“Rather a nice drawing, my dear. It looks like the castle right enough — though the east tower is too short. The two towers should be the same height, Mr. Blayne.”
Kate stepped forward, she put her hand on John Blayne’s arm and spoke softly. “They still don’t comprehend — they simply can’t. You must help them — indeed you must.”
He looked down at the small hand on his arm and then into her earnest eyes. He nodded, and she let her hand slip to her side.
“Sir Richard,” he said, “let me remind you.” He took a letter from his breast pocket and unfolded it. “I brought a copy of my letter to you, luckily. Perhaps you will recall — and Lady Mary, Connecticut is the name of a state, not of an artist. Let me read just this paragraph, Sir Richard. ‘I intend to use this castle as the most beautiful museum ever conceived in Connecticut. The cost will be immense, but I am prepared to spend any amount in order that my mother’s priceless collection of art can be properly housed for the public to enjoy.’ … Doesn’t this mean Connecticut, USA? I don’t know of any other.”
They were stricken, he could see that. Sir Richard sat down in a huge oak armchair. “I thought—conceived in Connecticut — I supposed it meant merely that you were speaking of the — the idea, you know.”
“It’s an invasion — that’s what it is,” Lady Mary cried, her soft voice suddenly shrill. “It’s the Spanish Armada all over again, Richard.”
Very straight and dignified, Sir Richard put up his hand for silence. He sat motionless, attentive only to the thunder in his skull. His gaze was fixed on some point in the distant end of the great hall and when at last he spoke it was as if he spoke to someone there, his voice low and unsteady. “I inherited Starborough Castle and the estate entire, including one thousand acres of forest and three thousand acres of farmlands, from my ancestors. It has belonged to my family for five hundred years. It was given to my ancestor, William Sedgeley, for extraordinary bravery in defending the King during a plot to assassinate. In each generation we have … done our best to care for castle and farm and forest. In my time, unfortunately, the world has changed so that a heritage such as mine has become an intolerable burden, far beyond the power of one man to bear. I am responsible for seventy families who live and work upon my land. … I … I … I …”
His voice failed. Kate ran to his side, Lady Mary sat down suddenly in a high-back chair. Her delicate face was white.
“Oh, my God,” she murmured.
John Blayne went to her side but she pushed his hand away.
“Please,” she murmured.
Kate looked earnestly at the American. “Mr. Blayne, I know what to do for them both, may I ask you to do something for me?”
“Yes indeed, Miss Wells, anything, anything at all. I had not intended to cause them such distress. I am sorry, believe me.”
“Then”—she managed to smile in spite of her own inner heaviness—“will you join your men at the inn and come back instead for dinner? It will give Sir Richard and Lady Mary a little time to accustom themselves to — to this strange situation.”
“Gladly, Miss Wells, but perhaps it would be better if I did not return until tomorrow?”
“Come back this evening,” Sir Richard said in an unexpectedly firm tone. “We have not done talking, nor shall we until we understand each other.”
Lady Mary lifted her head, proudly now, and as the lady of the castle she spoke. “And, of course, you will spend the night, Mr. Blayne.”
“You’re very kind, Lady Mary, but I don’t want to put you to all that trouble. I shall get a room at the inn,”
Wells, who had entered the room to announce luncheon, stood unobtrusively in the doorway. “Pardon me, my lady, but I understood that the gentleman from America was to stay in the castle. I have already removed his suitcase from his motorcar and unpacked it.”
“Thank you, Wells. What room have you put him in?”
“The Duke’s room, my lady.”
“Take him to King John’s room,” Sir Richard said sternly.
“Not King John’s room, Richard,” Lady Mary replied in a low voice, looking earnestly at her husband. “The damp, you know, and besides they’ve been very noisy in that room lately. Haven’t they, Kate?”
But Kate, engaged in another conversation, did not hear the question.
“I believe they’ve been taking heed of what’s been going on. They’re always ahead of us in these matters, you know.”
Sir Richard smiled indulgently at his wife and the strain that had come over them both was momentarily eased. He turned to Wells. “The Duke’s room it shall be, Wells.”
“Very good, my lord.”
While they were settling the matter of the room, Kate and John Blayne had been settling the matter of his return to the castle.
“…yes, dinner is at eight, here in the great hall, and, please, Mr. Blayne, black tie.”
“Oh, but of course!” He smiled his understanding of all she had been saying, nodded briskly to Sir Richard and Lady Mary, then walked toward the door that led out to the garden. He would not let himself look back, even before he went out the door. He felt that he could not bear it if Kate had turned away.