It was fortunate that Jago had found me for on the way home I realized that something was wrong. Jago looked down at my horse and said: “She’s cast a shoe. That must be put right immediately. Come on. We’re not far from Avonleigh and there’s a smithy there.”
I dismounted and together we led our horses the quarter of a mile to the village of Avonleigh. We went at once to the blacksmith, who was at work. He looked up with interest when he saw us.
The not unpleasant smell of burning hoof was in the air.
“Good day, Jem,” said Jago.
“Why, if it b’aint Mr. Jago. What can I do for ‘ee then?” He caught sight of me. “Good day to ‘ee, Miss.”
“The lady’s horse has lost a shoe,” said Jago.
“Oh, be that so? Where’s ‘er to?”
“Here,” said Jago. “How soon can you do it, Jem?”
“Well, soon as I’ve done with this ‘un. Why don’t you and the lady go along and take a glass of cider at the Trelawny Arms. ‘Tis particular good … their own brew. I can tell ‘ee so from experience. Go and do that and then come back. Like as not I’ll have the little lady all ready for ‘ee then.”
“It’s the best thing to do,” said Jago. “We’ll leave both horses, Jem.”
“Just so, Mr. Jago.”
“Come along,” said Jago to me. “It’s the Trelawny Arms for us. Jem’s right. The cider is good there.”
It was a small inn, a hundred yards or so along the road from the blacksmith’s. The signboard creaked in the faint breeze. It depicted that Bishop Trelawny of “And Shall Trelawny Die” fame.
A woman who, I presumed, was the landlord’s wife, came to talk to us. She knew Jago and called him by his name.
He explained that I was Miss Caroline Tressidor.
She opened her eyes wide and said: “Oh, this be the young lady from the Manor then. Come to stay with us for a little while. And what do ‘ee think of Cornwall, Miss Tressidor?”
“I like it very well,” I assured her.
“Her horse cast a shoe,” Jago explained, “and we’ve a little while to wait while Jem gets to work on it. So we thought we’d come along and try your cider. It was Jem who recommended it.”
“Best in the Duchy, he always says. And although it be my own, I’m ready to agree with him.”
“I know. But Miss Tressidor will put it to the test, Maisie.”
“She shall do that, Mr. Jago.”
We sat down at one of the tables in a corner. I studied the room with its small leaded windows and heavy oak beams. There was an array of horse brasses round the big open fireplace. It was a typical inn parlour and some two hundred years old, I guessed.
Maisie brought in the cider.
“Are you busy?” asked Jago.
“We’ve two people staying—a father and daughter. They’re here for a day or two. It keeps us busy.” She smiled at me. “We don’t reckon so much on staying-guests. Most people stay in the town and we’m too near Liskeard. ‘Tain’t like the old days! ‘Tis more an in-and-out trade, if you do know what I mean.”
I said I did and she left us to sample the cider.
“No need to hurry,” said Jago. “Old Jem will be a little while yet. Just think … We’ll probably never come here again. Let’s make the most of it.”
“I don’t want to think like that. I was beginning to forget that I had to go home soon.”
“We’ll think of something,” promised Jago.
Just at that moment the guests came into the inn parlour—a man and a young woman who were clearly father and daughter. They both had the same sandy hair, alert light eyes and scanty brows. She might have been a year older than Jago. They gazed round the parlour and as the girl’s eyes immediately fell on us they kindled with interest.
“Good day to you,” said the man. He had an accent which I did not recognize, except that I knew it did not come from near these parts.
We acknowledged his greeting and he went on: “Cider good?”
“Excellent,” replied Jago.
“We’ll have some then. Gwennie, go and order it.”
The girl rose obediently and the man said: “You don’t mind if we join you.”
“Indeed not,” said Jago. “This is a public room.”
“We’re staying here,” said the man.
“For long?” asked Jago.
“Just a matter of days. So much depends on if what we’ve come to see turns out what we want.”
The girl returned and said: “It’s coming, Pa.”
“Ah,” he said. “That’s good. I’m as dry as a bone.”
Maisie brought in the cider.
“Are you all right, sir?” she asked of Jago; and he told her that we both found the cider excellent.
“You just let me know if you want more.”
“We will,” said Jago.
Maisie went out and Jago grinned at the man. “It might be a little potent,” he said.
“That’s so, but it’s good stuff. Do you live round hereabouts?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know a place called Landower Hall?”
I opened my mouth but Jago flashed me a warning look.
“Indeed I do,” he said. “It’s the big house of the neighbourhood.” He threw me a mischievous glance. “Though some might claim that the more important house is Tressidor Manor.”
“Oh, that’s not for sale,” said the girl. “It’s the other one.”
Jago looked stricken for a moment. Then he said brightly: “So you are interested in Landower Hall?”
“Well,” said the man with a laugh, “it happens to be the reason why I’m here.”
“You mean that you are considering buying the place?”
“Well, a good deal will depend … It has to be suitable.”
“I think they’re asking a high price.”
“It’s not so much a matter of the brass. It’s finding something that suits us.”
“You come from the north, don’t you?”
“Aye, and thinking of settling in the south. I’ve still got interests up there, but there are those who can look after them for me. I fancy a different life. I plan to be a squire of some sleepy estate right down in the country … away from everything I’ve ever known.”
“Do you think you would like to be right away from the home you have known?” I asked.
“Can’t wait to get away from it. My lawyer thinks this might be just the thing for us. What I’ve always wanted. Stately old home … somewhere with roots. Gracious, you know. Now that Mrs. Arkwright’s passed away—that’s my wife—we’ve wanted to get away, haven’t we, Gwennie?” The girl nodded. “We’ve talked about it. Gwennie will be the lady of the manor; I’ll be the squire. The climate’s softer down here than where we come from. I’ve got chest trouble. The doctor’s advice you know. This seems just the place.”
“Have you seen this mansion yet?” I asked.
“No, we’re going tomorrow.”
“We’re so excited,” said Gwennie. “I shan’t sleep a wink tonight, thinking of it.”
“You like old houses, do you, Miss—er—Arkwright?” asked Jago.
“Oh, I do that. I think they’re wonderful … standing there all those years … just facing the weather and getting the better of it. Think of all the people who’ve lived there. The things they must have done. I’d like to know about them … I’d like to find out.”
“You’ve always wanted to know what people were up to, Gwennie,” said Mr. Arkwright indulgently. “You remember what Mother used to say. She said you had your nose into everything. ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ she used to say.”
They both smiled and then were a little sad, no doubt remembering Mother.