I was ready and waiting when the summons came. I was imagining telling Aunt Patty all about it when we were together in the summer. That cheered me considerably.
I was conducted to the presence of my employer.
"Ah!" Her cool blue eyes surveyed me and I gathered she approved of my white blouse and navy blue skirt. "Here you are. Now I will take you first over our own establishment. If there is time I will give you some idea of the surroundings, but these you will discover in more detail later. I have a picture here of the Abbey as it was before the Dissolution. It wasn't drawn until the beginning of this century, but it is a good job of reconstruction and it wasn't so difficult with the outline there, as you might say. Only the slightest degree of imagination was necessary. Our monks were Cistercians and so the Abbey is built in that style. You see it is constructed on either side of a stream which runs into the fishponds. They in their turn go into the river. We are about eight miles from the sea. There are three fishponds, one flowing into another. There are some good fish in there too. Emmet and some of the others fish there frequently and much of our Friday fish comes from the ponds. I think it is a very important tradition. Here you can see the nave and the transept. That is the chapel of six altars. There is the Chapter House and the Gate House and the Great Hall ... the Abbot's House, the refectory, the store house and buttery. You'll find everything on the plan. And here we are. Now ... shall we go?"
We came out into the fresh air. It seemed warm outside. Daisy talked as we went along. It was a fascinating tour and I found I could not take in all I had to see; but what I was deeply aware of was the brooding atmosphere of the Abbey-and particularly that part which was roofless. It seemed uncanny to walk over those stone flags, past great pillars which seemed meaningless since they were supporting walls and arches which were now a ruin, and through which I could see the sky. I understood how imaginative people fancied they heard the sound of bells and the chanting of monks when dusk fell. I had yet to see the place without the bright sunshine. I could believe it was very eerie in the dusk and for the first time I wondered whether Daisy Hetherington had been wise in taking part of the old Abbey for her school. Wouldn't it have been better in some fresh open country or facing the sea somewhere along the South Coast.
But of course it did make the school unique, and that was what Daisy was striving for.
"You are silent, Cordelia," she said. "I understand. You are overcome. It is the effect it has on all sensitive people."
"The girls ... how do they feel about all this antiquity?"
"Frivolous creatures most of them ... unaware of it."
"And the mistresses?"
"Oh, I think some of them are surprised when they first come. But it grows on them. They realize that they are privileged."
I was silent. I touched the rough stone wall and looked through the Norman arch to the sky. Daisy Hetherington patted my arm. "Come along in," she said. "We dine at seven thirty."
Dinner was served in the Lay Brothers' Refectory which must have been more or less the same as it was seven centuries before with its vaulted ceiling and long narrow slits of windows.
Daisy presided at the head of the table looking like an abbess herself. The food was excellent. "All home-grown," she told me. "It is one of the features of the place. We have plenty of space. The old kitchen gardens for instance, and we make good use of them. I have two gardeners working full time, and Emmet helps out. So do the other stable boys."
I could see that this was a very large establishment. It made Grantley Manor seem almost amateur in comparison.
At dinner I was introduced to Mademoiselle Jeannette Dupont, Frâulein Irma Kutcher and Eileen Eccles, the art mistress, who had arrived. I was able to talk both in French and German which delighted not only those I talked to but Daisy herself who, although she herself did not venture beyond English, liked to stress the fact that I was fluent in both languages.
Jeannette Dupont was in her mid twenties, I imagined, and rather pretty. Irma Kutcher wasn't much older but appeared to be, as she was rather stern-looking, and I was sure took her post very seriously.
Eileen Eccles was the typical art mistress with rather untidy hair and expressive dark eyes; she wore a loose dress of mingling shades of brown with a faint touch of scarlet and she looked every inch the artist.
We talked of school matters, and I had the feeling that I should not find it too difficult to fit into Daisy's establishment. She herself did most of the talking and it was all about the school and the idiosyncrasies of certain pupils. I felt I was getting a real grasp of everything.
When dinner was over we went into Daisy's study and there the conversation continued in the same vein until she said she was sure I was tired and would like to retire.
"The rest of the mistresses will be arriving tomorrow or the next day. And on Tuesday all the girls who have been home will be coming back."
Mademoiselle asked if the Verringer sisters would be returning on Tuesday.
"Of course," said Daisy. "Why not?"
"I have thought," said Mademoiselle, "that there is this death in the family ... and they stay at home to mourn."
"Sir Jason wouldn't want that. They'll be better off at school. They'll be joining us on Tuesday. Charlotte Mackay will be with them. She has been spending the holiday at the Hall. It must have been rather awkward to have her there at such a time. However, I believe the families know each other. Now, I am sure Miss Grant is very tired. Miss Eccles, perhaps you would take Miss Grant to her room. I am sure she will soon find her way around but just at first it can be confusing."
Miss Eccles rose and led the way.
When we were on the staircase, she turned to me and said: "Daisy can be a little overpowering at times. It's not so bad when there are more of us."
I didn't answer that but merely smiled and she went on: "This place takes a bit of getting used to. I can't tell you the number of times I nearly packed up and went home during my first term. But I stuck it out, and in a funny sort of way it grows on you. I think I'd be rather sad to leave now."
"Mademoiselle and Fraulein seem very pleasant."
"They're all right. So is Daisy in her way. All you have to do is keep on the right side of her and remember that, like God, she knows all, sees all and is always right."
"Sounds simple but faintly alarming."
"Keep everything in order and she's all right. Have you taught before? Oh no, I remember you've just come from Schaffenbrucken. I ought not to forget that. Daisy's told us about a dozen times already."
"They make such a fuss about that place."
"It is the Nec plus ultra."
I laughed.
"At least in Daisy's eyes," she went on. "You've teaching social graces, I believe."
"Yes, I have to work out how I am going to do that."
"Just walk in the steps of Schaffenbrucken and you can't go wrong."
"It must be gratifying to teach art when you fend talent."
"We haven't a Rubens or a Leonardo among us, I'm afraid. At least, if there are, we haven't at the moment discovered them. If they can produce a recognizable landscape I'm happy enough. Perhaps I'm not being quite fair. There are actually two girls who have a little talent. Here you are. This is where you sleep. You've got the important Verringers under your wing. I think that's because Daisy feels they might imbibe a little Schaffenbrucken even while they're sleeping. There! It's a little chilly. It always is. You could easily imagine you were a monk. Daisy likes us to follow the monastic ways as much as possible. Don't worry. They haven't laid out your hair shirt. You just forget you're in an abbey and get a good night's sleep. I'll see you in the morning. Good night."