“Oh yes. Miss,” she said.

“Did you want me to unpack?”

I told her I had already done it and she looked disappointed. I guessed she wanted to give the servants’ hall a description of my clothes.

“Just show me the way, please, Emily,” I said.

“Oh yes. Miss. There’s tea in the winter parlour, Miss. If you’ll follow me …”

I did so down the spiral staircase and then down another. Emily knocked on a door and opened it. I went in. Amelia was presiding over a tea-tray. Aubrey rose as I entered.

It was a pleasant room high-ceilinged like all of them, the walls lined with tapestries and the seats of the chairs were in needlepoint.

It was a cosy room.

“You have been quick,” said Aubrey.

“I hope you find the room pleasant.”

“It’s more than pleasant. It’s splendid. I don’t think I shall ever get used to being in such a house.”

“That is something you will have to do, nevertheless,” said Aubrey.

“How do you like your tea?” asked Amelia.

“Strong? Weak? Cream?

Sugar? “

I told her and she handed me the cup. She said: “after tea, you must come and see Stephen. He has heard you have arrived and is so eager to meet you.”

“I shall be delighted. Is he in bed?”

“At the moment, yes. Sometimes he gets up and sits in his chair in the window. That is on one of his good days.”

“I am ready whenever it is convenient.”

“Cook has made these cakes for you. You have to try them. She gets hurry if her food is not appreciated.”

“Thank you. They look delicious.”

“I want to show you the house,” said Aubrey.

“I’m longing to see it.”

I glanced through the windows.

“Those are the stables,” said Aubrey.

“They seem rather extensive.”

“My father kept a good stable and Stephen has been the same. We’re a horsey family.”

“Do you like riding?” asked Amelia.

“I haven’t ridden a great deal. I used to amble round on my pony in India and then when I went to school we didn’t ride very much. I was with my uncle and aunt in the country and I rode a little then. I like it but I would not call myself a horsewoman.”

“We’ll soon remedy that,” said Aubrey.

“You need a horse here. We’re isolated.”

“The town is about two miles from us,” added Amelia.

“And then it is only a small one.”

She asked me about India and I told her of my childhood and how during the days in my uncle’s rectory I had felt a longing to return.

“I saw it through rose-coloured glasses all those years when I was at school, and then when I went back …”

“You had taken off the glasses,” said Amelia, ‘and you saw it in the cold light of day. “

“She had put them back when she saw me,” said Aubrey.

Amelia looked a little startled but Aubrey was laughing.

When tea was over Amelia said she would go and see how Stephen was and if he was awake she thought it would be a good time for me to see him.

She left me with Aubrey for a few moments. He sat still, watching me intently.

“This is very sad for Amelia,” I said.

“She must be very worried about her husband.”

“He has been ill for some time. She has known for weeks that he cannot live.”

“She is very brave.”

He was silent. Then he said: “Do you think you will like this house?”

“Y-yes, I think so.”

“You’re hesitating.”

“At the moment it seems a little strange. Alien, perhaps.”

“Alien! What do you mean?”

“You said that houses are a part of the family. Families often resent newcomers. And I’m to be that.”

“Nonsense. Did you feel that Amelia resents you?”

“No. Certainly not.”

“The gatehouse? The portcullis? The winter parlour? Do they?”

“Well, it has taken me by surprise. I was not imagining such an ancient place. You didn’t warn me enough.”

“I didn’t want to overpraise and have you disappointed.”

“As if I could have been!”

The door opened.

“He’s awake,” said Amelia.

“He wants very much to see you.”

“Come on, then,” said Aubrey.

Stephen St. Clare was propped up in the big fourposter bed with its hanging of petit-point embroidery on a cream background. He was obviously very ill. His face was a yellowish grey, his dark eyes sunken; his clawlike hands lay on the counterpane.

“This is Susanna, Stephen,” said Aubrey.

The sunken eyes surveyed me with interest.

“I am delighted to meet you,” he said.

“And I you,” I replied.

Amelia placed a chair beside the bed and I sat down. She and Aubrey took chairs a little farther away.

Amelia said I would stay with them for a week and then go home to make arrangements for the wedding.

“I think that’s what you intend, isn’t it?”

I said it was.

“The wedding will take place at your home, I imagine,” said Stephen.

“My father and I have discussed it,” I replied.

“We thought it should be at my uncle’s rectory. My uncle would like to officiate and I did pass a great deal of my childhood there.” I smiled at Aubrey.

“We haven’t talked much about the arrangements yet.”

“I hope you will not delay too long,” said Stephen.

“There is no reason for any delay,” Aubrey put in, smiling at me, and added: “I hope.”

Stephen nodded.

“I haven’t been able to do very much for some time, have I, Amelia?” he said.

“No, but we have a good manager. Things run smoothly. And now that Aubrey is home …”

“Amelia has been a great help to me,” said Stephen.

“As you will be to Aubrey.”

“I shall do my best,” I said.

He nodded.

Amelia looked anxiously at her husband.

“I think you want to go to sleep, Stephen,” she said.

“There’ll be plenty of time to see Susanna before she goes. I may call you Susanna, mayn’t I?”

“Of course.”

“And we must be Amelia and Stephen. After all, you are coming into the family. Stephen, Susanna will come and see you tomorrow.”

Stephen nodded; his eyes were half closed.

Amelia rose and I did the same. , I leaned over the bed and said: “I shall come to see you soon.”

The sunken eyes opened and he smiled at me.

We came out of the room and Amelia shut the door.

“He’s feeble today,” said Aubrey.

“I know. But he did want to meet Susanna.” Aubrey said he would take me for a walk round the gardens and show me the stables.

Amelia left us and we went out.

During the next days I became familiar with Minster St. Clare and its occupants. I felt I knew Aubrey better than I had before. People often seem different against the background of their homes. I was amazed at his enthusiasm for the Minster. In India he had seemed something of a nomad, the man of the world, perhaps a little cynical. Now he was almost like a different person. Certain traits which I had not seen before were revealed to me. His passionate love of the house which seemed to have developed because it would shortly be his and very soon, I could not help thinking, for his brother was undoubtedly very ill indeed. There was his love of horses. He delighted in the stables; he proudly drew my attention to the fine points of the horses. There was a recklessness about him which was apparent when he drove his carriage. He loved to control the magnificent greys and would have them galloping at a tremendous speed so that when I drove with him I was almost thrown out of the carriage the faster he went, the better he liked it. I thought it was a little dangerous and told him so.

“Not with me,” he said proudly.

“I am in complete control.” It seemed to me that he loved danger for its own sake, and if he had not been such a superb horseman I should have feared for him. He was rather naively conceited about his prowess with the horses and that made him seem more vulnerable than before. I found that lovable.

When I rose each day I would go to the window and look out on the drive and I would say to myself: This great house will be my home.

Shall I be happy here?

I was excited by the place. Every day new aspects were revealed; yet there was something about it which was a little repellent. I supposed that was the case with most old houses. The past was too close; it was as though it had been imprisoned within those walls and it continually intruded on the present. But I was too fanciful. I wished that my father had come with me. He would have laughed at my fancies.

Amelia it was easy to think of her as Amelia for she had been so warm and friendly had shown me the house, the various bedrooms, the solarium with its settees, chairs and long mirrors, its windows, its alcoves, in one of which was an ancient spinning-wheel. She had conducted me to the long gallery with its portraits and even to the kitchens where I was introduced to the cook whom I did not forget to congratulate on her culinary excellence and the kitchen court with its pots and querns which were still used for grinding grain and pease.

Each day I seemed to become more friendly with Amelia. There was a sadness about her which made me want to comfort her. She loved her husband; their life together had clearly been a happy one and now she was about to lose it. She was very interested in the house; she showed me certain improvements she had made; she told me how the roof had had to be renovated and how difficult it had been to find weatherproof medieval tiles; she showed me the furnishings she had chosen for some of the bedrooms because the original ones were too threadbare to be kept any longer. She loved the house and she was going to lose not only her husband but her home as well. But, I thought, perhaps she will stay here. After all, big families did go on living in the ancestral home; and she had been mistress of this one so it would always be her home.