“We are not concerned with the price,” said Stirling and I felt myself blush at what seemed to be his ostentation.
“Nor, I might add, are we,” went on Mr. Wakefield. He smiled directly at me.
“The important point is to find the right tenant. I am sure, Mrs. Herrick, that you and your husband would like to be alone to look over the house.”
I said quickly: “We are not husband and wife. I am a widow and Mr. Herrick’s stepmother.”
If he was surprised he didn't snow it. Mr. Wakefield’s manners were impeccable. He would have been brought up to believe that to show his feelings was the gravest social error. He, of course, added tact to his many social graces, and it was true that I wanted to be free to discuss the house with Stirling.
If you would let us take our time . “
“But certainly, and if you would care to call at the Park when you have finished … that is, if you are interested … I should be delighted to see you there. I could send a carriage for you, or if you cared for the walk it is just across the park—about half a mile.”
I said we would walk and he left us.
As the door shut on him Stirling threw himself on to a sofa and began to laugh.
“If you would care to inspect this domicile, madam, and then take a short peregrination across the park …”
“Shut up, Stirling, he wasn’t as prim as that.”
“Our landlord! My God!”
“It’s not the landlord with which we have to concern ourselves but with the house.”
“We should have to see him sometimes, I suppose. He’d call … or perhaps his wife would. Do you imagine he has a wife? I wonder what she’s like. She will alight from her carriage and leave three cards.
Is that the correct number? And we should be invited to call and be bored to death. “
“How do you know we should be bored? How do you know he has a wife?”
“Of course we’d be bored and of course he has a wife. Mr. Wakefield’s life would run according to a pattern and you can be sure that pattern includes a wife.”
“I wonder what Wakefield Park is like ” Great old ancestral mansion.”
“Like Whiteladies.”
There is no place in the world like Whiteladies. “
“Well, are we going to take this house?”
“Let’s stay at the inn. If we’re his tenants that might involve social obligations.”
“Which I am sure you would have no hesitation in ignoring.”
“You are right for once, Nora.”
“For once! What do you mean? I’m going to look all over this house, and I can tell you this: I like it. I’ve a great desire to know who the Mercer was and what connection a mere tradesman could possibly have with the elegant Mr. Wakefield. “
We inspected the dining-room and descended to the enormous stone-flagged kitchen. I liked it. I liked the large pantries, the still room the buttery and the laundry. It was a fascinating house.
“It’s big,” said Stirling.
“Too big for a millionaire!” I demanded ironically.
“You practically told him you were.”
“I felt you were on his side.”
“What nonsense! As if it were a matter of taking sides. Let’s go up the staircase.”
There were three floors and some twelve rooms. The rooms were big and airy; I loved the long windows which reached to the floor.
“We’re going to take it, Stirling,” I said; and he did not contradict.
He was really as fascinated with the house as I was; and being tenants of the Wakefields, we could almost certainly meet the owners of Whiteladies. I was not sure what plans Stirling had and how quickly he hoped to acquire the place, but I. guessed it would take a long time, and it would certainly be more satisfactory having the Mercer’s House than an inn as our temporary home while we waited.
“Well?” he asked, when we had been through the house.
“We’re going to tell Mr. Wakefield that we’re taking it.”
We walked across the park and to the house which was called Wakefield Park. It was a big house—early Victorian, I judged, with its heavy ornate architecture. It looked strong and solid. On the front lawn was a pond in which a fountain played. White stone steps led to a terrace on which were seats. The flowers grew neatly, even primly.
“It’s just the sort of house he would have,” I commented.
“You can be sure everything is in its proper place,” added Stirling.
Then he mimicked: “It is fitting that each and every appurtenance of this house is lodged in the place assigned to it.”
“I don’t believe you like him.”
“Do you?”
“I like the Mercer’s House. That’s good enough.”
Along one wall of the house was a vinery. I could see the vine trained along the glass to catch the sun. There were pots of exotic-looking flowers in there too.
“You must admit,” I said, ‘that there is something imposing about his house. “
We mounted the steps of the terrace to the porch, on one side of which hung a bell. When pulled this gave a hollow clanging and almost immediately a manservant appeared.
“You would be Mr. and Mrs. Herrick,” he said.
“Mr. Wakefield is in the library with Sir Everard and her ladyship. I’m requested to conduct you there.”
I threw Stirling a glance as much to say: “You see how well ordered everything is.”
“What did you expect from Mr. Wakefield?” he flashed back.
The hall was enormous and somewhat oppressive. The heads of two stags adorned the wall on either side of that of a tiger. There were various portraits which we had no time then to study. A staircase with elaborately carved banisters curved upwards. We mounted this in the wake of the butler.
“Mr. and Mrs. Herrick!” he announced after knocking and opening a door.
Mr. Wakefield was there with a youngish man and an elderly man and woman.
“So good of you to come,” said Mr. Wakefield.
“May I present you to my parents—Sir Everard and Lady Wakefield and Dr. Hunter.
Lady Wakefield was a frail old lady who gave me a pleasant smile; then I turned to Sir Everard.
“You will forgive my not rising,” he said; and I noticed he was in a wheelchair with a tartan rug about his knees.
The doctor shook hands.
“Dr. Hunter has just been making one of his calls,” said Lady Wakefield.
“If you are going to live here, and need a good doctor—which I hope you won’t—you will find him excellent. Franklyn, do ring for fresh tea.”
“I have already told them to bring it if and when Mr. and Mrs. Herrick called,” “So thoughtful,” said Lady Wakefield with an adoring look at her son, who said in his dignified manner: “Pray be seated.”
“We have come to tell you that we are delighted with the Mercer’s House,” I told him, ‘and we want to take it. “
Splendid,” said Mr. Wakefield.
“It’s time it was lived in,” added Sir Everard.
“It doesn’t do the place any good to be left standing empty.”
“It’s a charming old place,” put in the doctor.
There was a knock at the door and a trolley was wheeled in accompanied by a footman and a parlour maid Life was clearly lived in an elegant fashion at Wakefield Park.
“Mr. and Mrs. Herrick are looking for a house in the neighbourhood, I gathered,” said Franklyn.
“That’s why they are taking the Mercer’s House temporarily.”
“They are not easy to find,” the doctor warned us.
“That is, if you want a house of character.”
“We do,” I replied.
“We have noticed a charming old place,” began Stirling.
“Whiteladies!” Lady Wakefield smiled.
“A most unusual place. It’s actually built on the site of an old convent. In fact some of the old convent still remains.”