“Yes,” said my grandfather, “there is Grasslands Manor.”
“Are you still looking for a place in the country?” asked my mother.
“My mother is very interested in that part of the country,” said Matthew Pilkington.
A faint colour had appeared in Elizabeth Pilkington’s cheeks. She said, “Yes, I might like to take a look at this Grasslands Manor.”
“Any time which is convenient to you we shall be pleased to see you at Eversleigh,” my grandmother told her.
“It is so bracing there, I believe,” said Matthew.
“If you mean the east wind favours us with its presence very frequently, yes,” said my grandfather.
“An interesting spot, though,” said Elizabeth.
“Roman country, I believe,” added Matthew.
“Yes, there are some fine specimens of Roman remains,” put in my grandfather. “Well, we’re not far from Dover and there is the old Pharos there … the oldest in England.”
“You must go and look at this Grasslands Manor,” said Matthew Pilkington.
“Oh, I will,” replied his mother.
They took their leave soon after that. They had a house in London close by, they said, and hoped we should meet again before we left for the country.
“Unfortunately we shall be returning the day after tomorrow,” said my mother.
I looked at her sharply because we had made no arrangements so far.
My grandmother was about to speak but my grandfather threw a warning look in her direction. I felt there was something going on which was a secret to me.
“Well, I shall be down to look at this Grasslands place, I daresay,” said Elizabeth Pilkington.
When they had left I was plied with questions. What had possessed me to go out on my own? I had been warned often. I must never never do it again.
“Don’t worry,” I assured them. “I won’t.”
“To think how easily it could happen,” cried my mother. “And what might have happened. As it is there’s that beautiful new cloak and dress …”
“Oh, I am so sorry. I have been so foolish …”
My mother put her arm about me. “My dear child,” she said, “if it has taught you a lesson it was worth it. Thank God you came safely back.”
“It was good of the Pilkingtons to bring her back,” said my grandmother.
“I rushed into them. I was almost home then,” I said.
“But they really were concerned,” went on my grandmother. “Wouldn’t it be strange if they took Grasslands?”
“There’s something about them I don’t like,” said my mother, and there was a strange expression on her face as though she had drawn a veil over her features to hide what she really felt.
“They seemed pleasant enough,” said my grandmother.
“And to have the means to buy the place,” added my grandfather.
“Carlotta showed her over Enderby Hall,” said my mother. “And then she decided not to let. She must have taken a dislike to her.”
“Oh, it was just one of Carlotta’s whims,” said my grandmother. “That couldn’t have had anything to do with Elizabeth Pilkington. She just did not want to sell the house.”
“It will be strange if you have found a buyer for Grasslands, Damaris.”
I thought it would be strange too. I rather hoped I had. I thought it would be rather pleasant to have the Pilkingtons as neighbours.
The next day Matthew Pilkington called.
I was in the hall when he arrived so I was the first to greet him. He was carrying a big bunch of violets.
He smiled at me. He was very handsome—in fact I think the most handsome man I had ever seen. Perhaps his clothes helped. He was wearing a mulberry-coloured velvet jacket and a very fine waistcoat. From the pockets low down in his coat a frilly white kerchief showed. His stick hung on a ribbon from his wrist. He wore high-heeled shoes which made him look very tall—he must be of a considerable height without them; and the tongue of his shoe stuck up well above the instep, which, I had learned since coming to London, was the very height of fashion. In one hand he held his hat, which was of a deep shade of blue, almost violet. In fact his clothes toned beautifully with the flowers, so that I could almost have believed he had chosen them for that purpose. But of course that could not be so, violets having a special significance.
I felt myself flushing with pleasure.
He bowed low, took my hand and kissed it.
“I see you have recovered from your adventure. I came to enquire and I have brought these for your mother so that she shall not be without what you braved so much to get for her.”
“Oh, but that is so good of you,” I said. I took the flowers and held them to my nose, inhaling the fragrance.
“From the best flower seller in London,” he said. “I got them in the Covent Garden Piazza this morning.”
“She will be so pleased. You must come in.” I took him into the little winter parlour which led from the hall.
“Please sit down,” I said.
He put his hat on the table in the hall and followed me.
“So,” he said, “you are returning to the country tomorrow. I am sorry about that. My mother would so liked to have entertained you. She is anxious to hear more of this house which is for sale.”
“It’s a very pleasant house,” I said.
“I wonder why the owners left it.”
“The wife died having a baby and her husband can’t forget. He came from the north originally and has gone back there. They were very great friends of ours and we have offered to show people the house if they are thinking of buying it. My grandmother has the keys at Eversleigh House.”
“And what about this other house?”
“Enderby. Well, that is a fine house too, but it has the reputation of being haunted.”
“My mother was most impressed by it.”
“Yes, but Carlotta, my sister, who owns it, decided not to sell. It was left to her, you see, by the previous owner, who was a relative.”
“I see, and Enderby remains empty.”
“It is extraordinary. Carlotta’s whim, my grandfather calls it.”
“Where is your sister?”
“She is married now and lives in Sussex. She has the dearest little baby. Tell me, do you live in London?”
“Well, I have a place in the country—in Dorset—a small estate to look after. I am there sometimes and sometimes with my mother in London. Of course now that there is war I may join the army.”
I frowned. My mother hated wars so fiercely that she had imbued me with the same feeling.
“It seems ridiculous that we should concern ourselves with the problems of other countries,” I said. “Why should what happens in Europe matter to us?”
I was really repeating what I had heard my mother say.
He said: “It is not quite as simple as that. Louis the Fourteenth, the French King, made an agreement with our late King and he has broken that agreement. His grandson Philip of Anjou has been made King of Spain. You see France will be dominating Europe. He has already put garrisons into the towns of the Spanish Netherlands. Worst of all he has acknowledged the son of James the Second as James the Third of England. War has been declared and we have strong allies in Holland and the Austrian Empire. It is necessary to go to war, you see.”
“So you may become a soldier. My father was a soldier once. He gave it up. My mother was so much against it. He bought the Dower House at Eversleigh and farms the land there and looks after his tenants; he works with my grandfather, who is getting old now. You met him yesterday. My uncle Carl is in the army and so is my uncle Edwin. He is the present Lord Eversleigh. He lives at Eversleigh when he is home.”
“I know yours is a family with a strong military tradition.”