Adelaide was already there. She smiled a good morning and asked if I had slept well. She said Stirling had already breakfasted and would come along very soon to take me out and show me round.
I replied that I was looking forward to seeing the neighbourhood and that I was deeply interested in the house. I had seen a house near Canterbury which it resembled.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Adelaide.
“My father designed this place. He built it ten years ago.”
“He is an architect then?”
“He is an artist, which may surprise you. When I say he designed the place, I mean that he supervised the architect and told him exactly what he wanted.”
“Your father seems remarkably endowed.”
“Unusually so. He saw houses like this when he lived in England and was determined to create a little bit of England here. He even had the gates brought from England. They are really old and were in fact taken from an English country house.”
What a lot of trouble he went to! “
“He’ll go to any amount of trouble to get what he wants.”
And here we were talking of him again. I changed the subject and asked about the garden. She was eager to show me and said that perhaps later in the day she would do so. I could probably give her advice as I was so recently from England.
Stirling came in, dressed in riding breeches and polished boots. He looked somewhat like his father—not quite so tall nor so commanding, and his greenish eyes lacked that hypnotic blue dazzle; but there could be no doubt that he was his father’s son. I felt a sudden happiness to be with him. He made me feel secure here as he had on the ship; and although I put on a bold show and was determined that no one should think I was afraid of the man my father had appointed to be my guardian, the fact remained that I was. I found him completely unpredictable and I was not at all sure of the impression I had made on him.
“Are you ready?” Stirling wanted to know.
I said I must change into my riding habit as I had not known we were to start immediately.
As soon as I had finished breakfast I went to my room and put on the riding clothes I had bought before leaving England. I remembered how shocked poor Miss Graeme had been because I had chosen green and my black riding hat had a narrow matching green ribbon about it.
When I went down to the stables Stirling looked at me with approval.
“Very elegant,” he commented.
“But it’s your skill with the horse that counts.”
I was delighted to see Jemmy in the stables, dressed in breeches and coat which were a little too large for him; but he looked very different from the shivering scrap we had found on board ship; and he had a very special smile for me, which was gratifying.
I don’t know what possessed me that morning. I knew I was wrong; but there was something in the fresh morning air and the bright sunshine which made me reckless. They were saddling Blundell, the horse he had thought fit for me to ride.
“It’s little more than a pony,” I said scornfully.
“I thought I was to have a horse. I stopped having riding lessons years ago.”
Stirling grinned and said: “You’d better have a look at Tansy.”
So I looked at Tansy—a lovely chestnut mare; and I was determined to ride her if just to show him that I was not one of the minions who accepted his word as law.
“She’s frisky,” said Stirling.
“She’s a mare, not an old nag.”
“Are you sure you can manage her?”
“My father taught me to ride when we lived in the country. I know how to manage a horse.”
“The country’s rough here. Wouldn’t you rather feel your way?”
“I’m not going to ride Blundell. I’d rather not ride at all.” } So they saddled Tansy and we set off. She was frisky and I knew I was going to need all my skill to control her; but, as I said, on that day I was reckless. For the first time since my father had died I felt a great uplifting of my spirits. I had not forgotten him; I should never do that; but it was almost as though he were beside me, rejoicing because at last I was delivered into safe hands. But it was not my guardian who gave me comfort; it was Stirling, riding beside me, so much more at home here than he had been in fie England, who made me feel secure. I knew then that I loved Stirling, and although he did not dominate my thoughts as his father did, my relationship with him brought me a deep contentment which I felt sure I could not feel with any other person. Instinctively I was aware that the affection I had for him would grow stronger every day.
“Does the sun always shine here?” I asked.
“Always.”
“Really always.”
“Almost always.”
“You’re boastful about your country.”
“Put it down to national pride. You’ll feel it after a while.”
“Do you think I shall come to accept this as my home?”
“You will. I’m certain of it.”
“I’m not. Your father didn’t, did he?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why should he have to build a house like that one we saw near Canterbury? Why should Adelaide have to make an English garden for him-He must be homesick … sometimes. Stirling, why didn’t you tell me that this house had the same name as that other? It must have struck you forcefully.”
“It struck me, yes.”
“Then why didn’t you say’ ” You’d never seen this. Then I thought it would be a nice surprise. “
“You think the most absurd things. Anyway, I’m glad. Going to that place seemed significant in some way. I don’t think I shall ever forget it. Those people on the lawn, for instance. Minta! Wasn’t she lovely? And Mamma …”
“Not forgetting the exquisite Mr. Wakefield.”
“You mean you can’t forget him.”
“Come now, you were the one who admired him. Such a perfect gentleman with his bows and hand-kissing.”
“Well, it was charming. And what of poor Lucie, the companion?”
“Poor Lucie! A pity she can’t marry Mr. Wakefield and live graciously ever after.”
“He is obviously for Minta.”
“I believe you envy her.”
“What nonsense!”
“I hope so. If you’re going to settle in here it won’t do to hanker after fancy gentlemen.”
I’m going to be perfectly happy here, thank you, in spite of the obvious lack of well-mannered gentlemen. “
That pleased him. He really was concerned for me.
“What a heavenly morning I’ I cried.
“Careful!” he warned as Tansy caught her foot in a hole and nearly threw me. His hand was stretched out to grasp my reins but we were all right, I assured him.
The grounds of the house were, in my English eyes, very extensive.
There were flower and kitchen gardens where men were working and large orchards where there were orange and lemon trees, with figs to give their fruit in the appropriate seasons. I saw that we could live off the land.
We left the estate behind us and rode for miles over rough country; Stirling pointed out land on the horizon which was part of the property managed by Jacob Jagger.
“It is indeed a vast Empire,” I said.
“Your father is the monarch of all he surveys, and you are the crown prince. How does it feel to be heir to all this and your father’s son?”
“It feels good,” he said, and I understood that.
We rode in silence for a while and then he said: “I think you have made a good impression on him.”