When the meal was over we showed them over Cador.
I was with them. I liked to hear my grandfather explain the history of the place. He loved the topic so much and spoke so enthusiastically that my grandmother gently put an end to his discourse which she feared might be boring to the guests.
We were in the gallery in which were displayed some old tapestries, some in the region of five hundred years old, when Madame Bourdon became very excited.
“Cette tapisserie … it is … how you say? … er … made right?”
“Repaired? Oh yes. We had to have it done. I think it was mended rather well.”
“But … it is very good.”
“You noticed.”
“My wife … she is very interested,” explained Monsieur Bourdon. “We have some tapisserie … very good … very old … Gobelins … You understand?”
“Indeed yes,” said my grandmother. “That must be wonderful.”
Jean Pascal, who was more fluent in our language than his parents were, said that they had brought some of their most valuable tapestry with them. They had been going to have it repaired in France, but if there was someone who could repair it as well as ours had been done, perhaps it would be possible for theirs to be done here.
“It was a young girl living quite near here who restored these two years ago,” said my grandmother. “She is very clever with her needle, as you see. She is a professional seamstress and does embroidery on garments and such things which are sold in the shops in Plymouth … at quite high prices I imagine.”
Madame Bourdon became very excited.
“If you could tell my mother where to find this embroiderer, she would be very grateful to you,” said Jean Pascal.
My grandmother was thoughtful. She glanced at my grandfather. “It’s Leah,” she said, “and that makes it a little awkward. You know how Mrs. Polhenny was about letting Leah come up here.”
She turned to our guests. “I will speak to the girl’s mother and ask her if she will allow the girl to go to High Tor. You see, her mother likes her to work at home.”
“We will pay well …” began Jean Pascal.
“Leave it to me. I will do what I can.”
We left it at that and there was a great deal of talk about tapestry. Apparently the Bourdons had some priceless pieces in their collection—one from the Chateau of Blois and another which had been in Chambord.
“It was risk bringing them over,” said Jean Pascal, “but my mother could not bear to leave them behind, and some of them did get a little damaged in transport.”
When they left, my grandmother assured them that the next day she would go to the Polhenny cottage and would let them know the result immediately.
The next afternoon my grandmother said she was going to beard Mrs. Polhenny in her den and would I care to accompany her? I said I would.
We walked into the town, talking about the Bourdons and the possibility of Mrs. Polhenny’s allowing Leah to go up to High Tor to do the work.
“It would mean she would have to stay up there for several weeks, I expect.”
“Why should she not go each day?”
“Well, I think she needs the very best light to do the work. She might get there and find the light no longer any good. I think she would have to be on the spot.”
“Why shouldn’t Mrs. Polhenny want her to stay there?”
“Mrs. Polhenny sees evil all around her … even where it doesn’t exist … and she expects the worst. She wants Leah to live in the shelter of her own home where a watchful eye can be kept on her.”
We reached the cottage. The windows gleamed, the pebbles on the path looked as though they had been freshly polished, the porch steps had been recently scrubbed. We knocked at the door.
There was a long pause. We listened and thought we could hear a movement within. My grandmother called out: “It’s Mrs. Hanson and Rebecca. Is that you, Leah?”
The door opened and there was Leah. She looked flushed, uncertain and very pretty.
“My mother is not in,” she said. “She was called up to Egham Farm. Mrs. Masters has started.”
“Oh,” said my grandmother, and then: “May we come in for a moment?”
“Oh, yes … of course. Please do,” replied Leah.
We were taken into the parlor. I noticed that the brass ornaments had been polished to a dazzling brilliance. There was a sofa with two cushions placed at symmetrical angles; the antimacassars on the backs of the chairs were spotless and there were arm covers on the chairs to prevent contamination from those who sat in them.
We scarcely dared sit.
“Shall I ask Mother to come and see you when she returns? I don’t know when it will be. You can never be sure with babies.”
“Well, this actually concerns you, Leah,” said my grandmother. Leah must be about eighteen years old after all. It was an age to make one’s own decisions. But she was clearly a meek girl and Mrs. Polhenny was a formidable parent. “You know the French people?”
“Those at High Tor,” said Leah.
My grandmother nodded. “They took luncheon with us yesterday and while they were there they saw the work you had done on the tapestries.”
“Oh, I loved doing that, Mrs. Hanson.”
“I know you did. It was a change, wasn’t it? Well, apparently they have some fine tapestries up there. They mentioned Gobelins. You know of them, Leah? Of course you do. They are some of the finest in the world. They are very ancient and in need of repair. Having seen what you did to ours …”
Leah looked excited.
“In fact, they would like to talk to you about repairing theirs.”
“Oh, I should love to do that. I get a little tired of working rosebuds and butterflies on ladies’ petticoats.”
“This would be different, wouldn’t it? And fancy … they have been worked by people hundreds of years ago.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You would be expected to stay up there while you did the work. You would need the best of light and the journey to and fro would be a little too long … there and back.”
She nodded. Then she said: “My mother did not like my being away from home … even with you.”
“Well, that is what I came to discuss. I promised Monsieur and Madame Bourdon that I would ask you. They would pay you very well. I imagine you could name your price.”
I studied her. She was very pretty; and now that she was excited, this was more obvious.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked.
“That would be very acceptable,” replied my grandmother.
She left us. We looked round the little room and I knew what my grandmother was thinking. It had an unlived-in look. I could not imagine that this was a very happy home. There would be too much striving after what was right and proper in the eyes of that martinet Mrs. Polhenny—and little thought of pleasure.
While we were drinking tea and nibbling homemade biscuits that lady herself came in.
She came straight into the parlor. She was surprised. Her eyes rested momentarily on me and I wondered if I was doing something I should not and perhaps spoiling the perfection of her brown velvet-covered armchair.
“Mrs. Hanson …” she began.
“You must forgive the intrusion, Mrs. Polhenny,” said my grandmother. “Leah has given us tea and your oatmeal biscuits are delicious.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Polhenny, smiling, “I’m glad she made tea for you.”
“How was it at the farm?”
“Another boy.” Her face softened. “A lovely healthy boy. They’re pleased. Rather a long labor but everything going well. I shall be keeping my eyes on them. I’ll be getting back later today.”