“No, I’m not so rag-mannered, and I like them too much!” said Kate naively, lifting the muff to her cheek. “Oh, how soft! how rich!”

She might have said the same about the chaise which bore her so swiftly north next morning, and did indeed say that so much unaccustomed luxury was putting quite unsuitable notions into her head. Lady Broome, with a significant glance, at the back of Sidlaw’s bonnet, smiled, but requested her not to talk nonsense. Sidlaw, occupying the unenviable forward seat, smiled too, but sourly. However, when my lady had fallen asleep, which she very soon did, and she heard herself addressed in a cautious undervoice, she unbent a little. “Tell me about Staplewood!” begged Kate. “You must know that I have spent almost all my life in the Peninsula, under the roughest conditions, and have never stayed in an English country house, or had a proper come-out, or—or anything! How shall I do?”

“You will do very well, miss—being as her ladyship has taken a fancy to you.”

“I hope I may be worthy of her regard!”

“Yes, miss. My lady has had many crosses to bear.”

“Does that signify that you hope I may not become another cross?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Sidlaw replied, picking her words: “Oh, no, miss! Merely that you might disappoint her—but that I’m sure you won’t do.”

“I trust I shall not!”

“No, miss. My lady is kindness itself—to those she likes.”

The inference was plain. Kate sat pondering it, a slight furrow between her brows. Instinct forbade her to inquire more closely, but the silence was broken by Sidlaw, who said: “I believe, miss—but I am not positive!—that my lady hopes you may provide Mr Torquil with the youthful companionship which he has missed, through no fault of his own.”

The slowing down of the chaise as it approached the lodge-gates woke Lady Broome. She opened sleepy eyes, blinked them, and became aware of her surroundings. She sat up, gave her shoulders a little shake, and said: “So we arrive! My love, I do beg your pardon! So impolite of me to fall asleep! Ah, Fleet! You see me home again before you expected to! And is all well here? Very well? You relieve my mind! Go on, James!” She turned her head, and smiled at her niece. “This is Staplewood,” she said simply.

The chaise bowled at a slackened pace through the park, allowing Kate plenty of time to see, and to admire. It had been a fine day, and the sun was setting redly. Kate’s first view of the great house drew a gasp from her, not of admiration but of dismay, since it seemed to her for a moment, staring at the huge facade, whose numberless windows gave back the sun’s dying rays in every colour of the spectrum, that the building was on fire. Shaken, but realizing that her aunt had not correctly interpreted her gasp, she murmured appreciation.

“Yes,” said Lady Broome, in a purring voice that reminded Kate irresistibly of a large, sleek cat. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

She put aside the rug that covered her legs as she spoke, and prepared to alight from the chaise. A footman, hurrying out of the house, let down the steps, and offered his arm, and an elderly man, whose habit proclaimed his calling, bowed to her, and said: “Welcome home, my lady!”

“Thank you, Pennymore. Kate, dear child, you must let me make Pennymore known to you! Our good butler, who knew Staplewood before ever I did. How is Sir Timothy, Pennymore?”

“Quite well, my lady, and will be glad to see you home again. Mr Torquil too—as Dr Delabole will doubtless inform your ladyship.”

She nodded, and led Kate into the house, saying: “You will think it difficult at first, I daresay, to find your way about, but you will soon grow accustomed. We are now in the Great Hall, and that is the Grand Stairway.”

“I can see that it is, ma’am,” responded Kate. “Very grand!” She heard the sharp intake of breath behind her, and shot a mischievous look over her shoulder. The next instant, however, she had schooled her features into an expression of rapt interest, and was able to meet her aunt’s eyes limpidly enough to allay suspicion.

Before Lady Broome could conduct her up the Grand Stairway to her bedchamber, a tall, Gothic door at one side of the Great Hall was opened, and an old gentleman came into the hall. His hair was white, his frame emaciated, and his skin the colour of parchment. His eyes struck Kate as the weariest she had ever seen; and when he smiled it was with an effort. He said, in a gentle voice: “So you have brought her to Staplewood, Minerva? How do you do, my dear? I hope you will be happy with us.”

Taking the fragile hand he held out to her in her own warm clasp, she answered, smiling at him: “Yes, sir, I hope so too. It won’t be my fault if I am not.”

“Well, as it certainly won’t be mine, you will be happy!” said Lady Broome quizzically. “Sir Timothy, I must take her up to her bedchamber! You, I see, have changed your dress, but we, I must inform you, are sadly travel-stained, and it wants but half an hour to dinner! Come, my love!”

Kate, meekly mounting the Grand Stairway in her aunt’s wake, paused on the half-landing to look back. Below her lay the Great Hall, stone-paved, and hung with tapestries. A log fire smouldered in the wide stone hearth, which was flanked by armoured figures, and surmounted by an arrangement of ancient weapons. A highly polished refectory table supported a pewter dish; an oak coffer with brass hinges and locks, burnished till they shone, stood against one wall; an oak armoire against another; several high-backed chairs, also of oak, completed the furniture; the tall windows were hung with faded tapestry; and the Grand Stairway was of black oak, uncarpeted. Kate, critically surveying the scene below her, found that her aunt was watching her, the corners of her mouth lilting upward.

“Well?” said Lady Broome. “What do you think of it?”

“It isn’t very gay, is it?” replied Kate honestly. “Or even very cosy! No, I don’t mean cosy, precisely—homelike!”

A chuckle from Sir Timothy brought her eyes to his face, a most mischievous twinkle in them. Lady Broome’s triumphant smile vanished; she put up her brows, saying: “Cosy? Homelike? Not, perhaps, to our modern notions, but the Elizabethans would have found it so, I assure you.”

“Ah, no, my love!” gently interpolated Sir Timothy. “The Elizabethans, whose taste was not to be compared with yours, would have covered the beams with paint, you know. My father had it stripped off when I was a boy.” He added, dispassionately considering the tapestries: “And the hangings must have been very bright before the colours faded, and the gold threads became tarnished. Eheu jugaces!”

“My dear Sir Timothy, how absurd you are!” said Lady Broome, with an indulgent laugh. “Don’t heed him, Kate! He delights in bantering me, because I care more for these things than he does.”

She swept on up the stairs, and across the hall to a broad gallery, down which she led Kate. Opening one of the doors which gave access to it, she said archly, over her shoulder: “Now, pray don’t tell me that you think this room unhome-like! I have taken such pains to make it pretty for you!”

“No, indeed!” exclaimed Kate, turning pink with pleasure. “I never saw a prettier room, ma’am! Thank you! A fire, too! Well, if this is the way you mean to use me you will never be rid of me! What can I do to repay so much kindness? I hope you will tell me!”

“Oh, you will find a great deal to do! But I don’t wish to be rid of you. Good evening, Ellen! This is Miss Kate, whom you are to wait upon. What have you put out for her to wear this evening?”

The young housemaid rose from her knees by Kate’s trunk, and bobbed a curtsy. “If you please, my lady, the white muslin, trimmed with a double pleating of blue ribbon,” she said nervously. “Being as it came first to hand!”

“Well, show it to me!” commanded Lady Broome, with a touch of impatience. She nodded at Kate. “A country girl! I hope you won’t find her very stupid and clumsy.” She surveyed the dress Ellen was holding up. “Yes, that will do very well. Put it down, and go and desire Sidlaw to give you the package I gave into her charge!”

“Yes, my lady!” said Ellen, curtsying herself out of the room.

“It is almost impossible to get London servants to come into the country,” remarked Lady Broome. “When we gave up the London house I did make the experiment, but it didn’t answer. They were for ever complaining that it was lonely, or that they dared not walk through the park after dark! Such nonsense! By the by, I do hope you are not nervous, my dear?”

“Oh, no, not a bit!” replied Kate cheerfully. “After all, I’m not at all likely to be snatched up by a party of guerrilleros, am I?”

“Extremely unlikely! Yes, that is the package, Ellen, but there is no need to enter the room as though you had been shot from a gun. My love, this is a shawl for you to put round your shoulders: I hope you will like it. I shall leave you now. When you are dressed, Ellen will show you the way to the Long Drawing-room.”

She moved towards the door, and paused before it, looking at Ellen with raised brows. With a gasp, the girl scurried to open it for her, curtsying yet again. Having carefully shut it, she turned, gulped, and said: “If you please, miss, I haven’t finished unpacking your trunk!”

“Well, you haven’t had time, have you? Oh, pray don’t keep on dropping curtsies! It makes me feel giddy! Have you found a pair of silk stockings yet? I think I should wear them, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, miss!”

“I bought them yesterday,” disclosed Kate, rummaging through the trunk. “My old nurse said it was a sinful waste of money, but I thought my aunt would expect me to have at least one pair. Here they are! The first I’ve ever had!”