“They clearly wanted to be rid of me. I wonder why.”

She looked at me with her head on one side and, as I already realized was unusual with her, hesitated. “Let’s not bother about the whys and wherefores. You’re here. You’re going to be the means of healing the rift in the family … perhaps. I’m pleased you came. I’ve a notion that you and I are going to get on.”

“Oh, have you? I’m so glad.”

She nodded. “Well, you’ll settle in. You’ll be left to yourself quite a bit. It’s a big estate and I keep myself rather busy on it. I’ve managers but I hold the reins. Always have done. Even when my father was alive and I was younger than you … or as young … I’d work with my father. He used to say, ‘You’ll make a good squire, Mary, my girl.’ And when there was all that raising of eyebrows and tittering about my being a woman, I was determined to show them I could do as well—and better—than any man.”

“I am sure you did show them, Cousin Mary.”

“Yes, I did, but even now, if anything goes wrong they’re ready to say ‘Oh well, she’s a woman.’ I won’t have it, Caroline. That’s why I’m determined to make Tressidors the most prosperous estate hereabouts.” She looked at me almost slyly and went on: “You must have come past Landower Hall.”

I told her we had done so.

“What did you think of it?”

“I thought it was magnificent.”

She snorted. “Outside, yes. Bit of a ruin inside … so we hear.”

When I told her we had met Mr. Paul and Mr. Jago Landower, she was very interested.

“They made themselves known,” I said, “when they noticed the name on my luggage. They seemed to know I was coming here.”

“Servants,” she said.

“Yes, that’s what the younger one said. Their servants . . your servants …”

“It’s like having detectives in the house. Well, it’s natural, and as long as there are some things we can keep back we have to put up with it. The Landowers keep a sharp look-out on what’s going on here … just as we do on them.” She laughed again. “There’s rivalry. We’re both squires, as it were. What possessed our ancestors to build so close, I can’t imagine. And the Tressidors are the culprits. Landowers were here first. They’re proud of that. Look on us as upstarts. We’ve only been here three hundred years. Newcomers, you see! We’re on speaking terms, but only just. We’re the rival houses—Montague and Capulet. We don’t go about biting our thumbs or thrusting rapiers into each other’s gullets in the streets of the town, but we’re rivals all the same. Friendly enemies, perhaps you could call us. We haven’t had our Romeo and Juliet … not yet. I’m hardly made for Juliet and Jonas Landower is no Romeo. Certainly not now. Couldn’t really have fitted the part in his young days any more than I could. However, that’s how it is with us and the Landowers. You say you met them on the train. Coming from Plymouth, I don’t doubt. Been to see the lawyers … or the bank more likely. Things are not going well at Landower, that much I know. Cost of keeping up the place is astronomical. It’s creaking. It’s about two hundred years older than Tressidor … and one thing I’ve always made sure of is to keep the place in order. The first little sign of decay … and it’s dealt with. Costs less that way. You understand? Of course you do. Over the years the Landowers have thrown up some feckless characters like old Jonas. Drink, women, gambling … The Landower pattern. Tressidors have had their old reprobates, but on the whole we’re a sober lot … compared with the Landowers, that is.”

“They helped us with our luggage,” I told her. “Miss Bell was grateful.”

“Oh yes, very mannerly. Interested, too, in what goes on here. Opportunists, that’s what they are. Always have been. Old Jonas thought he could retrieve the family fortunes at the gaming tables. Fools’ game that. Did you know anyone who was ever successful that way? Of course not. Always ready to take the main chance. Turncoats. Even in the Civil War they were for the King in the beginning as most of us were in these parts, and when the King lost, the Landowers were for the Parliament. We suffered a bit at Tressidor then and they prospered.” She gave the bark which punctuated her speech and which I was beginning to wait for. “Then the new King came back and they discovered that they were royalist after all. But that put us forward. However, they secured their pardon and managed to hang on to their estates. Opportunists. Now, of course, there are rumours. Well, we shall see.”

“It all sounds most exciting, Cousin Mary.”

“Life usually is when you take an interest in it. You’ve discovered that, haven’t you? Of course you have. Well, my dear, you’re going to have a little holiday here. You’re going to learn something of what it is like to live in the heart of the country … that is right away from the capital. This is Cornwall.”

“The countryside seemed very beautiful. I’m longing to explore.”

“I always think this is the most beautiful part of the Duchy. We’ve got a touch of lush Devonshire and the beginnings of the rugged coast of Cornwall. When you get farther west it gets wilder, more stark, less cosy. You ride, don’t you? Of course you do. There are horses in the stables.”

I said: “We rode a good deal in the country and even in London.”

“Well, that’s the best way of getting around. You’ll amuse yourself all right. Don’t stray too far at first and take a note of your bearings. I’ll go round with you until you get to know your way a little. You have to be careful of the mists. They spring up suddenly and you can easily get lost and go round in circles. The moors are not far off. I should stay away from them at first. Keep to the roads. But, as I say, someone will always go with you.”

“I thought the lodge cottage was very attractive.”

“Oh, the garden, you mean. Jamie McGill is a good fellow. Very quiet, very withdrawn. I think there’s some tragedy there. He’s a good lodgekeeper. I’m lucky to have found him.”

“I hear he’s the neighbourhood’s beekeeper.”

“Our honey comes from him. He does supply the neighbourhood, and very good it is. Pure Cornish honey. Here … try some. You can taste the flowers in it. Doesn’t it smell fragrant?”

“Oh yes. And it’s delicious.”

“Well, that’s Jamie’s honey. He came to me … it must be six years ago … no, more than that, seven or eight. I was wanting an extra gardener. I gave him the chance and it wasn’t long before we discovered he had a special way with plants. Then the old lodgekeeper died and I thought it was just the place for Jamie. So he went there and in a short time the garden was a picture—and he got his hives. He seems to be very happy there. He’s doing what he likes best. People are very lucky when they have work they enjoy. Are you ready? I’ll show you the house first, shall I? Yes, that’s best. Then you can wander round the grounds for a bit and explore. This afternoon I’ll take you for a ride. How’s that?”

“I like the idea very much.”

“All right. We’ll get along.”

It was an interesting morning. She showed me the attics where many of the servants had their quarters, though some lived in several of the cottages on the edge of the estate, and the grooms and stablemen lived over the stables. Then there were the bedrooms, many of them exact replicas of my own, and the long gallery with pictures of the family. She took me round explaining who they were. There were portraits of my father and Aunt Imogen when they were young, of my grandfather and his elder brother, Cousin Mary’s father. Tressidors in ruffs, in wigs, in elegant eighteenth-century costumes. “Here they are,” said Cousin Mary, “the entire rogues gallery.”

I laughed protestingly, and she said: “Well, not all rogues. We had some good men among us and all of them were determined to keep Tressidor Manor as the family home.”

“That’s understandable,” I said. “You must be proud of it.”

“I confess to a fondness for the old place,” she admitted. “It’s been my life’s work. My father used to say to me, ‘It’ll be yours one day, Mary. You’ve got to love it and treasure it and show that the Tressidor women are as good as the men.’ And that’s what I’ve been doing.”

There was the bedroom where the King had slept when he was on the run from the Roundheads. The fourposter bed was still there though the coverlet was threadbare.

“We kept that intact,” explained Cousin Mary. “No one sleeps in this room. Imagine that poor man … with his own subjects against him. How must he have felt when he slept in that bed!”

“I doubt he had much sleep,” I said.

She took me to the window and I looked out over the rich green of the lawns, beyond to the woods in the distance. It was a beautiful view.

She pointed out the tapestry on the walls which depicted the triumphant return of the fugitive’s son to London.

“That was put up in this room some fifty years after the King slept here. If I were fanciful, which I’m not, I would say that what part of him is left in this room would take some satisfaction from that.”

“You must be a little fanciful, Cousin Mary, to have such a thought,” I pointed out.

She burst out laughing and gave me a little push. She was not displeased.

She took me downstairs and showed me the small chapel, and the drawing room and kitchens. We passed several servants during our perambulations and these she introduced to me. They bobbed respectful curtsies.

“Our hall is quite small,” she said. “The Landowers have a magnificent hall. This house was built when halls were no longer the centre of the house, and more attention was given to the rooms. Much more civilized, don’t you think? But of course you do. Building naturally should improve with the generations. I daresay at first it will be a little difficult to find your way around. Naturally. But in a day or so it will all become familiar. I hope you are going to like the house.”