‘It’s beautiful,’ I said.

He was pleased.

‘I hope you will grow to love it. My brother lives in Flamstead Castle in Cumberland where my family have lived for generations. This was built later and we called it Far Flamstead because so many miles separated it from the old home.’

‘That’s interesting,’ I said. ‘So your younger brother took the castle and you Far Flamstead.’

‘As a soldier I needed to be in the south. It works very well.’

As we came nearer the house I noticed that it was surrounded by a shallow moat which was crossed by a bridge. Looking up, I saw how impressive was the central block; above the gateway was a window with eight-light windows—a sort of look-out, because from those windows one would be able to see a party approaching for some distance. I wondered if we had been watched. On either side of the central tower were the projecting octagonal towers of the east and west wings.

We passed through the gateway and were in a courtyard bounded on three sides by brick walls with two corner turrets.

As we entered the courtyard a man appeared. He bowed to us and Richard said, ‘This is Jesson. Jesson, your mistress.’

‘Welcome to Far Flamstead, my lady,’ said the man; he had a sharp clipped voice and there was something in his bearing which told me that he was an old soldier.

‘Are they prepared?’ asked Richard, dismounting and helping me to do the same.

‘Yes, sir,’ answered Jesson. ‘We have been awaiting your arrival since late afternoon.’

Richard took me by the arm and we went through a door into a hall. The first thing I noticed were the people there, standing in a line waiting to receive us and give the traditional greeting of the household to the new mistress.

There were eight of them—not so many for such a large house, I supposed—three women, I noticed, and five men.

‘We have ridden far and are tired,’ said Richard, ‘but I must first present you to my wife.’ He turned to me. ‘Jesson you have already met. Mrs Cherry.’

A plump woman came forward and curtsied. I thought her name suited her, for she was somewhat rotund and her cheeks had the reddish tinge of a ripe cherry.

‘Mrs Cherry is the housekeeper, and Cherry her husband.’ A man came forward.

‘Cherry served with me at one time before he received a wound in his leg. He now serves me here at Far Flamstead.’

There were two women in their thirties. They were Meg and Grace Jesson, daughters of the man who had been in the courtyard.

The others were brought forward and presented to me, but I forgot their names. I could not help feeling that I was inspecting an army parade. It was faintly amusing.

‘Now,’ said Richard, ‘you have met them all. We will go to our rooms and then we will eat, for you must be hungry.’

I was very much aware of eight pairs of eyes studying me intently, which was natural. They must all have been agog with curiosity to see whom their master had married. They seemed relieved, I fancied, and that would no doubt be because of my youth.

The hall was lofty, some fifty feet in length with the hammer-beam kind of roof that was at Pondersby; the floor consisted of marble slabs; the walls were whitewashed, and an array of banners and trophies hung there with a suit of armour at either end. A large refectory table stood in the centre, and of the same oak were the companion benches on either side. Pewter implements had been placed on the table, and I was immediately aware of the high polish on tables and benches and how the armoury shone.

The servants had fallen back, their eyes following me as Richard led me along the hall to a staircase. We mounted this and came to a gallery, along which we passed, and mounting yet another staircase we came to what was to be our bedchamber.

I confess to a shiver of apprehension as I was led into this room and my eyes fell on the big four-poster bed; this was draped in crimson velvet and the counterpane was of the same coloured satin.

Richard shut the door and I was alone with him.

He took off my cape and threw it on the bed.

‘That which you will need tonight will have been brought by the pack-horses,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow the rest of your baggage will come.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I shall have adequate.’

He took me by the shoulders and turned my face up to his.

‘You tremble,’ he said. ‘Are you afraid?’

‘No … not really. I’m just hoping that I shall not disappoint you.’

‘You are such a very dear child,’ he said.

‘But I must stop being a child, must I not, now that I am your wife.’

‘You will always be yourself,’ he said, ‘and that is what I ask.’

I said: ‘The house is a little …’

‘Yes?’ he prompted.

‘Well, overpowering. So many menservants.’

‘That is because I am a soldier. They have all served with me at one time. The country is not very good to soldiers who can no longer be of use to it.’

‘So you brought them here?’

‘They are all men whom I can trust.’

‘There will only be four women in this house, then?’

‘Do you want more? You can choose either Meg or Grace Jesson for your personal maid. Give yourself a day or two to decide which.’

‘What are their duties now?’

‘I don’t know. Mrs Cherry and Cherry work that out. But you only have to ask for what you want, you know.’

‘Everything seems very well looked after.’

He smiled. ‘That is army training, I’ll swear. Now you would like to wash and we will eat. It has been a strange day for you.’

‘The only wedding day I ever had,’ I said lightly, and then wished I hadn’t, for my words might have reminded him that he had had two—and almost a third if Carlotta was right.

He left me for a while, and alone in the bedchamber I peered about me. It was a large room and contained a carved chest, a court cupboard, several chairs, a table on which stood a mirror and two heavy pewter candlesticks.

I tried to avert my eyes from the great four-poster bed, for I had to admit to myself that I was very uneasy about what would be expected of me. I felt so stupidly ignorant, but I supposed all I should have to do was submit. It seemed to me then that I heard Bersaba’s mocking laughter. How strange! But a room like this would make one imaginative. I couldn’t help thinking of all the husbands and wives who had slept here, and he of course would have shared that bed with his first wife.

I went to the deep bay window set in an embrasure. There was a window-seat with padded velvet cushions and heavy embroidered curtains which matched the bed-hangings. I knelt for a moment on the window-seat and looked out. Before me lay a green lawn, and not more than a hundred yards away, though largely hidden by a high wall, the crenellated towers of what looked like a miniature castle.

There was a knock on the door. It was one of the Jesson girls with hot water.

‘Master said to bring it, my lady,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Are you Grace?’

‘No, I’m Meg, my lady.’

‘Thank you, Meg.’

I washed my hands, and as I did so Grace came in with the light baggage I had brought with me, so I was able to change my riding-clothes for a gown, and when I had done this Richard appeared to conduct me to the meal which he said was waiting for us.

Together we went to the dining-room.

‘I shall lose myself here,’ I commented.

‘At first perhaps,’ he said. ‘But there will be plenty to show you the way.’

The dining-room was lofty with a beautiful carved ceiling. By now the candles had been lighted, although it was not yet quite dark. The walls were covered in tapestry with predominating blues and reds depicting the War of the Roses on one side and what Richard told me was the battle of Bosworth Field on the other. He said I might wish to do some tapestry myself as I was fond of needlework.

‘It will be something for you to do while I’m away,’ he added.

‘You will not go yet,’ I said fearfully, and tried to imagine myself alone in this big house with strangers.

‘I think not, but a soldier always has to be ready when the call comes.’

I felt it was a warning. Tomorrow when daylight comes it will all look different, I thought; and I suddenly thought of Trystan Priory where everything seemed suddenly homely.

Supper was served by Jesson and two menservants, which seemed strange because we always had girls to serve at home and so did they at Pondersby Hall. But I had to admit that everything was done with the greatest precision and efficiency.

There was cold duck and beef and mutton and venison, together with pies which I was not hungry enough to tackle. Richard urged me to take a little of the malmsey wine which was served in fine Venetian glasses, and as I drank I felt less apprehensive, and as the darkness fell and I smiled across the table at my husband, his face mellowed by the candlelight, I told myself I was going to be happy. I thought: it is all so strange and I am young and so inexperienced, and Trystan Priory, my mother and Bersaba seem so very far away.

The meal was over and I went back to our bedchamber. My nightgown had been laid out on the bed and I undressed and looked out of the window.

There was a half moon and it was a clear night as I stood there and saw again the towers of the miniature castle. It looked ghostly in moonlight, and if I hadn’t seen it by the light of day I should have thought it wasn’t quite real.

As I stood there I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders.

I swung round, alarmed. Richard was standing behind me.

‘I startled you,’ he said.

‘A little. What is the castle out there? Is it a castle? It looks like a toy one.’

‘That,’ he said, ‘is Flamstead Folly.’

‘What does that mean?’

He took my hand and stood beside me. ‘It means that an ancestor of mine—my great-grandfather—had it built.’

‘A little castle?’

‘He thought it would be amusing. It was going to be much bigger, but he found the building too costly, so he contented himself with a small one because he had vowed he would have a castle. It was called a folly because it was rather a foolish thing to do.’

‘I must explore it,’ I cried.

‘No, don’t. You see, a fairly high wall has been built around it. That’s because it’s not safe. It was not very securely built. One of these days I shall have to pull it down. But don’t go near it. You mustn’t. Promise me you won’t.’

‘Of course I’ll promise. You sound so … earnest.’

‘Well, I don’t want a ton of bricks to descend upon this defenceless head.’

‘I’m sorry. It looks … exciting.’

‘You must not go there. I insist. Promise me.’

‘I already have.’

‘Remember it, please.’

His face was stern as it had been when he had insisted on my getting rid of Mab.

‘Come,’ he said, ‘it’s cold here.’

He drew me towards the bed.

I awoke to sunshine and remembered where I was. I put out my hand and felt that I was alone.

I sat up in bed. The curtains about the bed were half drawn. I shivered with a sort of thankfulness because I had survived the night. I did not want to think about it. There was no one with whom I could discuss it. Perhaps I might have done so with Bersaba. I wondered whether I were pregnant. I should love to have a child. That was the side of marriage which I should enjoy, and the very fact that I expressed my feelings in that way was in itself an admission that there was another side which I did not enjoy.

I pulled the bell rope, which was the signal for Grace to bring my hot water. I washed and put on my riding-habit and went downstairs.

Richard was in the dining-room having breakfast. I found it difficult to look at him, I felt so embarrassed. But he rose and, putting his arms about me, kissed me.

‘Good morning, my dearest,’ he said warmly, and a little glow of happiness came to me.

Perhaps I had been all right after all, I thought, and my spirits rose.

‘I see you are dressed for riding,’ he said.

‘I have only my riding-habit and the gown I wore last night.’

‘Your things will be here today. Grace or Meg will unpack them for you. Today I am going to show you over the house, then you won’t lose yourself, and perhaps we will ride round the neighbourhood a little. Would you like that?’

‘I should love it.’ I was happy now, assuring myself that everything was going to be all right after all.