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She came to me every morning to discuss the menu for the day; she behaved as though we were a large household; and I realized that this ceremony was necessary to her dignity. It was only when she discussed Whiteladies that she forgot her decorum. I confess that I lured her to talk of that household which was of the utmost interest to me.

“I don’t like it, madam,” she reiterated on an old theme one morning after we had decided what should be prepared for luncheon.

“For years I served Lady Cardew—the first Lady Cardew, that is—and I venture to say that she never had cause for complaint. And then suddenly I’m told my services are to be dispensed with. They could do without me. As though, Madam, what I did was of such little importance that I could go and no difference be noticed.”

“I gathered from Miss Cardew that economies were necessary,” I said.

“Economies! There was money wasted in that house. Oh no, the second Lady Cardew wanted me out of the way. She wanted to run the place. She didn’t want anyone there who might see what she was up to. And that’s the long and the short of it, madam.”

“I daresay it had to be, you know. The expense of keeping up a place like Whiteladies must be great.”

Mrs. Glee sniffed.

“I always thought there was something going on in that house.”

“Oh?” Of course I shouldn’t be discussing my neighbours with my housekeeper, but the temptation to do so was irresistible.

“Oh yes,” went on Mrs. Glee.

“She’d make up her mind what she wanted and she didn’t want anyone there who might see through her. After all, what was she in those days? A sort of companion, neither one thing nor the other.”

“Miss Cardew seems very fond of her stepmother.”

“Miss Cardew’s one of the blessed innocents. Wouldn’t see what was going on right under her nose if you was to ask me.”

“She seems a very charming young lady.”

“She and her father … a pair of babes in the wood. Oh, you can smile, Mrs. Herrick, but she was after the doctor at one time. We all thought there’d be a match there, and then her ladyship dies and ” No thank you,” said madam to the doctor, ” I’m after her ladyship’s shoes. ” Mrs. Glee’s language became more colourful as she warmed to her subject, and I felt I must put an end to these observations which I believed were decidedly prejudiced.

“Well, I hope, Mrs. Glee, you don’t regret the change too much. Miss Cardew was saying how lucky we were to get you.”

“Miss Cardew was always the lady.”

“I’m sure of that. And I think we’ll have the apple pie. Mr. Herrick is very partial to that.”

Confidences were over, we were back to business.

Franklyn Wakefield picked us up in his carriage. Our own had not yet been delivered but Stirling already had four fine horses in the stables.

I liked the courtly manner in which I was handed into the carriage. He asked if I liked riding with my back to the horses or otherwise. I told him I had no preference.

“I daresay you rode a great deal in Australia.”

“Everywhere,” I told him.

“It was necessary. We even camped out. Do you remember, Stirling, that occasion when we rode some forty miles or so to Melbourne … and then back?”

I could smell the perfume of the eucalypts; I remembered Adelaide boiling the kettle and Jagger coming close to me while I knelt by the fire. Would there always be these memories?

“You will be an expert horsewoman.”

I shrugged my shoulders, and he went on: “I would like to show you my estate one day. Perhaps we could ride out together and I could introduce you to the countryside.”

Stirling started to talk about the vastness of the property in Australia in a rather brash, patronizing way which made me frown; and the more I frowned the more bombastic he became. Franklyn listened politely and made no effort to cap Stirling’s stories which I should have been tempted to had [ been in his place. It was a pity Stirling could not hide his contempt for Franklyn who, of course, completely disguised his reaction. A lesson in good manners, I would remind Stirling when we were alone.

To arrive at Whiteladies after dusk was an experience. The place looked mysteriously romantic and—in odd contrast-almost sinister.

There was a lantern hanging in the porch which creaked slightly as it swung and as we mounted the steep stone steps an excitement possessed me. I glanced at Stirling. His eyes gleamed; I was aware of his tension.

Franklyn pulled the bell rope and we heard the clanging echoing through the hall. The door was iron-studded and looked impregnable; there was a grille through which we saw the eyes of the manservant before he opened the door.

Then we were in the hall; the floor was stone-flagged, the panelling intricate; candles guttered in the sconces. So it must have looked nearly forty years ago when Lynx came here to give his Arabella drawing lessons. How could I ever forget him when there were a thousand things everywhere I went to remind me of him!

Minta appeared at the staircase on one end of the hall. T heard the bell,” she said, descending. She looked radiant and as dainty as a fairy princess in the candle light.

“I’m so pleased that you’ve come.”

“We’re pleased that you invited us,” said Stirling.

“It’s a great occasion, I can tell you, to be guests in this house.”

Minta said she wasn’t sure whether it was the house or its inhabitants that pleased him.

“Both!” replied Stirling.

“If you’re interested in architecture.” put in Franklyn, ‘you couldn’t have a better example of the Tudor than you have here. Some of it is a little later but the house is fundamentally Tudor. “

“Living in Australia, I have had no opportunity of visiting these ancient houses,” said Stirling.

“So it’s a great novelty to me. Not so Nora. She was a tenderfoot, you know. She was only out there a mere two years or so.”

“I’m fascinated by Whiteladies all the same.”

“We must show you over the house,” promised Minta.

“Perhaps after dinner. First you must meet my father and stepmother.”

Stirling started up the stairs after her, and as Franklyn and I followed he pointed out the carving which was the work of a sixteenth-century artist He was sure of this because that particular artist always left his special mark—a nun’s head. There were examples of his work in other houses in this part of the country. It might have been that his first big commission was the carving in Whiteladies and ever after he had used the nun’s head as his symbol.

“As soon as one begins to delve into the past one makes all sorts of interesting discoveries,” he said.

“Do you delve into the past?” I asked.

“In a dilettantish manner. I am interested in this part of the world.

We’ve had several discoveries. We’ve found old coins and jewellery belonging to the Stone and Bronze Ages. But I’m interested in the more recent past. The history of old houses, for instance; and this one is one of the most fascinating I’ve ever known. “

“I find it fascinating too,” I said; and by this time we had reached the top of a staircase and Minta had thrown open the door of a room.

It was delightful with its tall mullioned windows and lofty ceiling; the cupola had been so designed to make this appear even higher than it was. I imagined that in daylight the wood carving was magnificent.