“The stonework is beginning to crumble in some parts of the house.”
“What is this bartizan?” asked Stirling.
“It’s a sort of battlemented overhanging turret on the top of the tower. Lucie’s afraid it’s going to collapse.”
“Shouldn’t it be put right?”
“It will be one day when we can afford it.”
“But if it’s dangerous …”
“Oh, there’s so much that needs to be done. You’ve no idea.”
“Yes, I have,” said Stirling.
She smiled at him as though she thought he was clever.
“Most people never think that a house like this needs constant expenditure if it’s to be kept in order. And if this is neglected for some years …”
She raised her eyebrows.
“But surely it shouldn’t be neglected,” insisted Stirling.
“If the money isn’t available it has to be.”
“I’m sorry …” began Stirling.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“All my life people have been saying that Whiteladies would fall about our ears if necessary repairs weren’t done. I get used to it.”
“But a house like this is a sort of trust.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“A sort of trust. This is the entrance into the old part. These were really the convent walls. You’ll be able to see how thick they are in a minute. Mind these stairs. They’re rather dangerous.”
We mounted the spiral stone staircase, holding the rope banister. The steps were steep and worn in the middle.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Stirling, and there was a lilt of excitement in his voice.
“I’m glad you find it exciting,” said Minta, who hadn’t noticed the acquisitive gleam in Stirling’s eyes.
Through the old part of the house we went, Minta had picked up a lantern from the walls and Stirling carried it. We followed her up winding flights of steps into alcoves that were like cells. It was very cold.
We sometimes use this for storing things,” said Minta.
“When I was young I can remember venison and great hams being kept here. That was when we entertained a good deal and there were more servants.”
She took us back to the inhabited part of the house.
This section was built a little later than the main part. It was in the time of Elizabeth Tudor so it is built in the shape of an E. This is the main block; there are two projecting wings on either side and this short section in between. “
“One could get lost in such a house,” I said.
“I was lost once,” Minta told us.
“They searched and searched for me.
I was in what we called the studio. There’s an enormous cupboard there and for some reason no one thought of looking in it. The studio was given the name when my mother had drawing lessons there. “
“I’d like to see it,” I said.
“You shall, though there’s nothing special about it except that it has a good north light.”
Nothing special! When he had sat there with her, instructing her, falling in love with her!
“My mother, you know, was the daughter of the house-the only child.
When my father married her he came to live here. “
“So there weren’t always Cardews at Whiteladies.”
“No. We haven’t been able to keep the family name going. There have been several family names. They’re inscribed on that wall in the Library. There have been six changes of name in three hundred years. It seems to be a feature of the family that every now and then a woman inherits. She marries and the family name is changed. That’s what happened to my mother.”
“And it will to you.”
“Well …” She laughed with an insouciance which implied that she was completely unconcerned as to whether Whiteladies came into her possession or not.
“Before Drusilla was born we thought she might be a boy. In which case”
“But she would not have been in the direct line,” insisted Stirling.
“Your father married into the family and his present wife is nothing to do with it, so . “
“Oh no,” said Minta quickly.
“When people marry they become the family. It has always been like that. Whiteladies is my father’s now ...”
“You could have lost Whiteladies!’ cried Stirling, ‘and you don’t seem to care.”
“I should like to have a little brother. My father would love to have a son. He was so proud when Druscilla was born.”
“But if there was a son it seems you could lose Whiteladies.”
“I don’t think of Whiteladies as a possession exactly. It’s the family home. Whoever owned it, it would be home, always. “
“Unless,” suggested Stirling, ‘it passed out of the family. “
I flashed him a warning glance. He was going too far too fast.
“That couldn’t happen,” she said with & look of surprise.
“It’s always been the family’s house.”
“But if it were a burden …”
“A burden! Oh, I see what you mean … financially.” She laughed almost merrily.
“It’s always been a financial burden.”
“If it became too heavy a one …”
“It’s always been too heavy a one. Now this is the way to the studio I was telling you about. We have to get up the narrow flight. It’s at the top of the wing … to get the light, you see.” She threw open a door.
“There! Look at the dust. It’s not used nowadays and I suppose the servants don’t often come up here. There’s far too much for them to do. My mother used to come up here a lot. Oh, there’s the cupboard.
It’s enormous . one of those you can walk about in. I think I must have come up here to look for her; then I wandered into the cupboard and shut myself in. “
The room was plainly furnished. There was a big table, some chairs and an easel.
“I was never any good at drawing,” went on Minta.
“Perhaps Druscilla will be. Then we can use the studio again.”
She opened the cupboard door. It was the size of a small room and down one side were shelves on which were a few pencils, crayons and two drawing-boards. Minta picked up one; on it were several sketches of a horse. That was Lynx’s work. I would know it anywhere. Oh Lynx, I thought, how could I ever have imagined that I would be able to forget!
“Not much to see here,” said Minta and I felt angry with her, which was stupid. How could she guess at the turmoil in my heart?
She took us to the library after that and showed us the crest and the coat of arms and the names of the family very artistically inscribed on the branches of a fig tree— Merrivale, Charton, Delmer, Bemngton, Dorian and Cardew. Stirling was staring as though fascinated. I knew he was adding a new name: Herriek.
We climbed more stairs.
“This is the east wing of that E. We don’t use this part now, but my mother was fond of it. When Lucie married my father she decided it would be economical to close this part of the house. Lucie is wonderful at managing things. I am sure our affairs are in better shape since she started looking after them.”
I could well believe that.
“This was my mother’s room. Lucie had the furniture covered in dust sheets. The servants don’t like to come up here.”
“Why?” asked Stirling.
“You know how it is when there has been a recent death … or perhaps you don’t. Servants get superstitious. My mother died rather suddenly.”
“I thought she had been an invalid for some time,” I said.
“Well, a sort of invalid. We all thought she rather imagined her illness and then she died of a heart attack. We felt we’d misjudged her—and Lizzie, who had been her maid, started imagining things.”
Things? “
“Oh, that my mother wouldn’t rest and she believed she was still in the house … her ghost, she meant. Poor Lizzie, she had been with Mamma since she was a girl. She was so sensible and practical, but Mamma’s death seemed to unnerve her. Lucie is taking her in hand, though, and she’s getting better.”