The Landower Legacy (7 page)

My trunk was carried out to the waiting trap.

“Here are your ladies, Joe,” said Paul Landower to the driver.

“Thank ‘ee, sir,” said Joe.

We were helped into the conveyance and we started off. I looked back and saw the Landower brothers standing there looking after us, their hats in their hands, bowing—somewhat ironically, I thought. But I was laughing inwardly and my spirits were considerably lifted by the encounter.

Miss Bell and I sat face to face in the trap, my trunk on the floor between us and as we left the town behind and came into the country lanes, Miss Bell seemed very relieved. I guessed she had regarded the task of conveying me to Cornwall as a great responsibility.

” ‘Tis a tidy way,” our driver Joe told us, “and it be a bony road. So you ladies ‘ud better hold tight.”

He was right. Miss Bell clutched her hat as we went along through lanes where overhanging branches threatened to whisk it off her head.

“Miss Tressidor be expecting you,” said Joe conversationally.

“I hope she is,” I could not help replying.

“Oh yes, ‘er be proper tickled like.” He laughed to himself. “And you be going back again, soon as you’m come, Missus.”

Miss Bell did not relish being called Missus, but her aloof manner had no effect on Joe.

He started humming to himself as he went on through the lanes.

“We’m coming close now,” he said, after we had been going for some time. He pointed with his whip. “Yon’s Landower Hall. That be the biggest place hereabouts. There’s been Landowers here since the beginning of time, my missus always says. But you’m already met Mr. Paul and Mr. Jago. On the train, no less. My dear life, there be coming and going at Landower these last months. It means something. Depend on it. And there’s been Landowers here since …”

“Since the beginning of time,” I put in.

“Well, that’s what my missus always says. Now, there you can see it. Landower Hall … squire’s place.”

I gasped in admiration. It was a magnificent sight with its gatehouse and machicolated towers. It was like a fortress standing there on a slight incline.

Miss Bell assessed it in her usual manner. “Fourteenth century, I should guess,” she said. “Built at the time when people were growing away from the need to build for fortification, and concentrated more on homes.”

“Biggest house hereabouts … and that’s counting the Manor too … though it runs it pretty close.”

“Living in such a house could be quite an experience,” said Miss Bell.

“Rather like the Tower of London,” I said.

“Oh, there’s been Landowers living there for …” Joe paused and I said: “We know. You told us. Since the beginning of time. The first man to emerge from primeval slime must have been a Landower. Or do you think one of them was the original Adam?”

Miss Bell looked at me reprovingly, but I think she understood that I was a little overwrought and more than ever indulging in my habit of speaking without wondering what effect my words might have. During the journey I had still been part of the old life; now the time was coming for a change—a complete change. It is only a visit, I kept telling myself. But the sight of that impressive dwelling and the memory of the two men on the train whose home it was, made me feel that I had moved away from all that was familiar into a new world—and I was not sure what I was going to find in it.

I was overcome by a longing for the familiar schoolroom and Olivia there looking at me with her short-sighted eyes, reproving me for some outspokenness, or with that faintly puzzled look which she wore when she was trying to follow the devious wanderings of my comments.

“Not far now,” Joe was saying. “Landowers be our nearest neighbours. Odd they always says to have the two big houses so close. But ‘tas always been so and I reckon always will.”

We had come to wrought-iron gates and a man came out from a lodge house to open them. I judged him to be middle-aged, very tall and lean with longish untidy sandy hair. He wore a plaid cap and plaid breeches. He opened the gate and took off his cap.

“Thank ‘ee, Jamie,” said Joe.

Jamie bowed in a rather formal manner and said in an accent
which was not of the neighbourhood: “Welcome to you, Miss Tressidor … and Madam …”

“Thank you,” we said.

I smiled at him. He had an unlined face and I wondered fleetingly if he were younger than I had at first thought. There was an almost childishness about him; his opaque eyes looked so innocent. I took a liking to him on the spot. As we passed through the gates I had a good look at the gatehouse with its picturesque thatched roof; and then I saw the garden. Two things struck me; the number of beehives and the colourful array of flowers. It was breathtaking. I wanted to pause and look but we were past in a few minutes.

“What a lovely garden!” I said. “And the beehives, too.”

“Oh, Jamie be the beekeeper hereabouts. His honey … ‘tis said to be second to none. He be proud of it and that fond of the bees. I do declare he knows ‘em all. They be like little children to him. I’ve seen the tears in his eyes when any one of ‘em comes to grief. He be the beekeeper all right.”

The drive was about half a mile long and as we rounded the bend we came face to face with Tressidor Manor—that beautiful Elizabethan house which had caused such bitterness in the family.

It was grand—but less so than the one we had just passed. It was red brick and immediately recognizable as Tudor—and Elizabethan at that, because from where we were it was possible to define the E shape. There was a gatehouse, but it looked more ornamental than that of Landower, and it formed the middle strut of the E; two wings protruded at either side. The chimneys were in pairs and resembled classic columns, and the mullioned windows were topped with ornamental mouldings.

We went through the gatehouse into a courtyard.

“Here we be,” said Joe leaping down. “Oh, here be Betty Bolsover. Reckon she have heard us drive in.”

A rosy-cheeked maid appeared and bobbed a curtsey.

“You be Miss Tressidor and Miss Bell. Miss Tressidor ‘er be waiting for ‘ee. Please to follow me.”

“I’ll see to the baggage, ladies,” said Joe. “Here, Betty, go and get one of ‘em from the stables to come and give me a hand.”

“When I’ve took the ladies in, Joe,” said Betty; and we followed her.

We passed through the door and were in a panelled hall. Pictures
hung on the walls. Ancestors? I wondered. Betty was leading us towards a staircase, and there standing at the top of it was Cousin Mary.

I knew who she was at once. She was such an authoritative figure; moreover there was a certain resemblance to my father. She was tall and angular, very plainly dressed in black with a white cap on her pepper-and-salt hair, which was dragged right back from a face which was considerably weatherbeaten.

“Ah,” she said. She had a deep voice, almost masculine, and it seemed to boom through the hall. “Come along, Caroline. And Miss Bell. You must be very hungry. Are you not? But of course you are. And you have had an exhausting journey. You can go now, Betty. Come along up. They’ll see to the baggage. There’ll be food right away. Something hot. In my sitting room. I thought that best.”

She stood there while we mounted the stairs.

As we came close she took me by the shoulders and looked at me and although I thought she was going to embrace me, she did not. I soon learned that Cousin Mary was not prone to demonstrations of affection. She just peered into my face and laughed.

“You’re not much like your father,” she said. “More like your mother perhaps. All to the good. We can’t be called a good-looking lot.” She chuckled and released me, and as I had been about to respond to her embrace I felt a little deflated. She turned to Miss Bell and shook her by the hand. “Glad to meet you, Miss Bell. You have delivered her safely into my hands, eh? Come along. Come along. Hot soup, I thought. Food … and then I thought bed. You have to be off again in the morning. You should have had a few days’ rest here.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Tressidor,” said Miss Bell, “but I am expected back.”

“Robert Tressidor’s arrangements, I understand. Just like him. Drop the child and turn at once. He should know you need a little rest after that journey.”

Miss Bell looked uncomfortable. Her code would never allow her to listen to criticism of her employers. I did not feel the same compunction to hear my father spoken of in this way, and I was rather intrigued by Cousin Mary, who was quite different from what I had been imagining.

We were taken into a sitting room and almost immediately hot soup was brought in.

I think Miss Bell would have preferred to wash first, but she knew that one in her position did not go against the wishes of people in
authority and there was no doubt that Cousin Mary was accustomed to command.

The room was cosy and panelled, but I was too uncertain and tired to notice very much and in any case I should have plenty of time to discover my surroundings. The soup was served immediately and we did need it. There was cold ham to follow and apple pie with clotted cream—and cider to drink.

Cousin Mary had left us while we were eating.

I whispered to Miss Bell: “I do wish you could have stayed for a day or so.”

“Never mind. Perhaps it is better thus.”

“Just think. You’ll have that long journey again tomorrow.”

“Well, I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that you are here.”

“I am not sure that I am going to like it. Cousin Mary is rather … rather …”

“Hush. You don’t know what she is like yet. She seems to me very … worthy. I am sure she is a lady of great integrity.”

“She is like my father.”

“Well, they are first cousins. There is often a family resemblance. It is better than being among complete strangers.”

“I wonder what Olivia is doing.”

“Wondering what you are doing, I imagine.”

“I wish she were here.”

“I daresay she wishes she were.”

“Oh, Miss Bell, why did I have to go away so suddenly?”

“Family decisions, my dear.”

Her lips were clamped together. She knew something which she was not going to tell me.

I was surprised that I could eat so heartily, and as we were finishing the meal Cousin Mary came back.

“Ah,” she said. “That’s better, eh? Now, if you’re ready I’ll take you to your rooms. You’ll have to be up early in the morning, Miss Bell. Joe will take you to the station. You should get a good night’s sleep. We’ll give you a packed lunch and return you to my cousin in the good order you left. Come with me now.”

We mounted the staircase. The long gallery was on the first floor. As we passed through it, long dead and gone Tressidors looked down on me. The fast fading light gave it an eerie look.

There was a staircase at the end of the gallery and this we
mounted. We were in a corridor in which there were many doors. Cousin Mary opened one of them.

“This is yours, Caroline, and Miss Bell’s is next to it.” She patted the bed. “Yes, they’ve aired it. Oh, there’s your trunk. I shouldn’t unpack it until tomorrow. One of the maids can help you then. There’s hot water. You can wash off the train smell. Always think you carry that with you for a while. And then I should think a good night’s sleep—and in the morning you can start to explore … get to know the house and our ways. Miss Bell, if you’d step along with me

At last I was alone. My bedroom was high-ceilinged, the walls panelled; a little light filtered through the thick glass of the windows. I noticed the candles in their carved wooden sticks over the fireplace. My trunk had been placed in one corner; my hand-case was on a chair. I had a nightgown and slippers in it so I could well leave unpacking until the morning. The floor sloped a little and mats covered the boards; the curtains were heavy grey velvet; and there was a court cupboard which looked solid and ancient, and an oak chest on which stood a Chinese bowl. On a dressing table with numerous drawers was a sling-back mirror. I took a look at myself. I was paler than usual and my eyes looked enormous. There was no mistaking the apprehension in them. Who would not be apprehensive in such circumstances?

The door opened and Cousin Mary came in.

“Goodnight,” she said brusquely. “Go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Cousin Mary.”

She gave just a nod of the head. She was not unwelcoming, but she was not warm either. I was not sure yet of Cousin Mary. I sat down on the bed and resisted the impulse to cry weakly. I was longing for my familiar room, with Olivia seated at the dressing table plaiting her hair.

There was a knock on the door and Miss Bell came in.

“Well,” she said. “Here we are.”

“Is it how you thought it would be, Miss Bell?”

“Life is rarely what one thinks it will be—so therefore I make no pre-judgments.”

I felt myself smiling in spite of everything.

Oh, how I was going to miss my precise Miss Bell!

She sensed my emotion and went on: “We are both exhausted, you know. Much more tired than we realize. What we need to do is rest. Goodnight, my dear.” She came to me and kissed me. She had never
done that before and it aroused a sudden emotion in me. I put my arms round her and hugged her.