“It all sounds most exciting, Cousin Mary.”
“Life usually is when you take an interest in it. You’ve discovered that, haven’t you? Of course you have. Well, my dear, you’re going to have a little holiday here. You’re going to learn something of what it is like to live in the heart of the country … that is right away from the capital. This is Cornwall.”
“The countryside seemed very beautiful. I’m longing to explore.”
“I always think this is the most beautiful part of the Duchy. We’ve got a touch of lush Devonshire and the beginnings of the rugged coast of Cornwall. When you get farther west it gets wilder, more stark, less cosy. You ride, don’t you? Of course you do. There are horses in the stables.”
I said: “We rode a good deal in the country and even in London.”
“Well, that’s the best way of getting around. You’ll amuse yourself all right. Don’t stray too far at first and take a note of your bearings. I’ll go round with you until you get to know your way a little. You have to be careful of the mists. They spring up suddenly and you can easily get lost and go round in circles. The moors are not far off. I should stay away from them at first. Keep to the roads. But, as I say, someone will always go with you.”
“I thought the lodge cottage was very attractive.”
“Oh, the garden, you mean. Jamie McGill is a good fellow. Very quiet, very withdrawn. I think there’s some tragedy there. He’s a good lodgekeeper. I’m lucky to have found him.”
“I hear he’s the neighbourhood’s beekeeper.”
“Our honey comes from him. He does supply the neighbourhood, and very good it is. Pure Cornish honey. Here … try some. You can taste the flowers in it. Doesn’t it smell fragrant?”
“Oh yes. And it’s delicious.”
“Well, that’s Jamie’s honey. He came to me … it must be six years ago … no, more than that, seven or eight. I was wanting an extra gardener. I gave him the chance and it wasn’t long before we discovered he had a special way with plants. Then the old lodgekeeper died and I thought it was just the place for Jamie. So he went there and in a short time the garden was a picture—and he got his hives. He seems to be very happy there. He’s doing what he likes best. People are very lucky when they have work they enjoy. Are you ready? I’ll show you the house first, shall I? Yes, that’s best. Then you can wander round the grounds for a bit and explore. This afternoon I’ll take you for a ride. How’s that?”
“I like the idea very much.”
“All right. We’ll get along.”
It was an interesting morning. She showed me the attics where many of the servants had their quarters, though some lived in several of the cottages on the edge of the estate, and the grooms and stablemen lived over the stables. Then there were the bedrooms, many of them exact replicas of my own, and the long gallery with pictures of the family. She took me round explaining who they were. There were portraits of my father and Aunt Imogen when they were young, of my grandfather and his elder brother, Cousin Mary’s father. Tressidors in ruffs, in wigs, in elegant eighteenth-century costumes. “Here they are,” said Cousin Mary, “the entire rogues gallery.”
I laughed protestingly, and she said: “Well, not all rogues. We had some good men among us and all of them were determined to keep Tressidor Manor as the family home.”
“That’s understandable,” I said. “You must be proud of it.”
“I confess to a fondness for the old place,” she admitted. “It’s been my life’s work. My father used to say to me, ‘It’ll be yours one day, Mary. You’ve got to love it and treasure it and show that the Tressidor women are as good as the men.’ And that’s what I’ve been doing.”
There was the bedroom where the King had slept when he was on the run from the Roundheads. The fourposter bed was still there though the coverlet was threadbare.
“We kept that intact,” explained Cousin Mary. “No one sleeps in this room. Imagine that poor man … with his own subjects against him. How must he have felt when he slept in that bed!”
“I doubt he had much sleep,” I said.
She took me to the window and I looked out over the rich green of the lawns, beyond to the woods in the distance. It was a beautiful view.
She pointed out the tapestry on the walls which depicted the triumphant return of the fugitive’s son to London.
“That was put up in this room some fifty years after the King slept here. If I were fanciful, which I’m not, I would say that what part of him is left in this room would take some satisfaction from that.”
“You must be a little fanciful, Cousin Mary, to have such a thought,” I pointed out.
She burst out laughing and gave me a little push. She was not displeased.
She took me downstairs and showed me the small chapel, and the drawing room and kitchens. We passed several servants during our perambulations and these she introduced to me. They bobbed respectful curtsies.
“Our hall is quite small,” she said. “The Landowers have a magnificent hall. This house was built when halls were no longer the centre of the house, and more attention was given to the rooms. Much more civilized, don’t you think? But of course you do. Building naturally should improve with the generations. I daresay at first it will be a little difficult to find your way around. Naturally. But in a day or so it will all become familiar. I hope you are going to like the house.”
“I am sure I shall. I do already.”
She laid a hand on my arm. “After luncheon we’ll go for that ride.”
I had had such a full morning that I had ceased to wonder what Olivia was doing and how Miss Bell was faring on her homeward journey.
When I went to my room Betty came in and said that Miss Tressidor had suggested she help me unpack. This we did together and Betty hung up my clothes in the cupboard. She said that Joe would take my trunk and put it into one of the storage attics where it could remain until it was needed again.
After luncheon I changed into my riding habit and went down to the hall where Cousin Mary was waiting for me.
She looked very neat in her well-cut riding clothes, black riding hat and highly polished boots. She studied me with approval and we went to the stables where a horse was chosen for me.
We went down the drive, to the lodge. Jamie came out to open the gates for us.
“Good afternoon, Jamie,” said Cousin Mary. “This is my second cousin, Miss Caroline Tressidor. She is staying with us for a while.”
“Yes, Miss Tressidor,” said Jamie.
I said: “Good afternoon, Jamie.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Caroline.”
“I noticed the bees when I came through last night,” I told him.
He looked very pleased. “They knew you were coming,” he said. “I told them.”
“Jamie always tells the bees,” said Cousin Mary. “It’s a custom. You must have heard of that. But of course you have.”
We rode on.
“He has an unusual accent,” I said. “It’s rather pleasant.”
“Scottish,” she said. “Jamie’s a Scotsman. He came to England … after some trouble up there. I don’t know what. I’ve never asked. People’s privacy should be respected. I suspect he came down here to make a new life. He’s doing that very successfully. He’s happy with his bees, and he does provide us with the finest honey.”