“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 Very quiet, very withdrawn.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.”

“I am sure I shall. I do already.”

She laid a hand on my arm. “After luncheon we’ll go for that ride.”

I had had such a full morning that I had ceased to wonder what Olivia was doing and how Miss Bell was faring on her homeward journey.

When I went to my room Betty came in and said that Miss Tressidor had suggested she help me unpack. This we did together and Betty hung up my clothes in the cupboard. She said that Joe would take my trunk and put it into one of the storage attics where it could remain until it was needed again.

After luncheon I changed into my riding habit and went down to the hall where Cousin Mary was waiting for me.

She looked very neat in her well-cut riding clothes, black riding hat and highly polished boots. She studied me with approval and we went to the stables where a horse was chosen for me.

We went down the drive, to the lodge. Jamie came out to open the gates for us.

“Good afternoon, Jamie,” said Cousin Mary. “This is my second cousin, Miss Caroline Tressidor. She is staying with us for a while.”

“Yes, Miss Tressidor,” said Jamie.

I said: “Good afternoon, Jamie.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Caroline.”

“I noticed the bees when I came through last night,” I told him.

He looked very pleased. “They knew you were coming,” he said. “I told them.”

“Jamie always tells the bees,” said Cousin Mary. “It’s a custom. You must have heard of that. But of course you have.”

We rode on.

“He has an unusual accent,” I said. “It’s rather pleasant.”

“Scottish,” she said. “Jamie’s a Scotsman. He came to England … after some trouble up there. I don’t know what. I’ve never asked. People’s privacy should be respected. I suspect he came down here to make a new life. He’s doing that very successfully. He’s happy with his bees, and he does provide us with the finest honey.”

We rode on. She showed me the estate, and beyond it.

“This is Landower country,” she explained. “They’d like to extend it. They’d like to take us in. We’d like to take them in, too.”

“Surely there’s room enough for the two of you.”

“Of course there is. It’s just that feeling there’s been through the centuries. Some people thrive on rivalry, don’t they? Of course they do. It’s something of a joke really. I’ve no time for active feuding in my life and I doubt the Landowers have either. They’ve got other things to think about just now, I imagine.”

By the time we had returned to the house I felt I knew a great deal about Cousin Mary, the Tressidors, the Landowers, and the countryside. I was very interested and felt a great deal better than I had for some time.

The more I saw of Cousin Mary, the more I liked her. She was a great talker and I was playing a little game with myself to try to curb her flow and get a word or two in myself. I imagined I should be more successful at it later; but just now I wanted to learn all I could.

When I went to bed that night a great deal of my melancholy had lifted. I had been thrust into a new world which I was already finding absorbing.

I slept soundly and when I awoke and realized where I was my first feeling was one of expectancy.

A week had passed. I was settling into the household. I was left a great deal to myself now, Cousin Mary having introduced me to the countryside, as it were. This pleased me. It was a freedom I had not enjoyed before. To be allowed to ride out alone was in itself an adventure. Cousin Mary believed in freedom. I was of a responsible age, no longer a child, and by the time a week was up I was revelling in the new life.

I was given the run of the library. No books were forbidden, unlike at home where Miss Bell supervised all our books. I read a great deal— much of Dickens, all Jane Austen and the Brontes, which particularly intrigued me. I rode every day and I was beginning to know the countryside well. I had put on a little weight. Cousin Mary kept a good table, and I liked to do justice to what was served. I felt myself changing, growing up, developing a certain self-reliance. I realized that I had been somewhat restricted under Miss Bell’s watchful eye.

Freedom from lessons was a relief. Cousin Mary said that as I found such pleasure in the library, the perusal of great writers was the best education I could get and would be more important for me in the future than the multiplication table.

It was certainly a pleasurable way of educating oneself.

Whenever I went out walking or riding I liked to go past the lodge gates where I often saw Jamie—almost always in his garden. He would call a respectful Good morning. I wanted to stop and talk to him and ask about the bees, but there was something in his attitude which deterred me from doing this. But I promised myself that one day I would.

One day I came face to face with a rider in one of the narrow lanes.

“Why,” he cried, “if it isn’t Miss Tressidor!”

I recognized him as the younger of the travellers in the train.

He saw that and grinned. “That’s right. Jago Landower. That’s a frisky little mare you’re riding.”

“A little frisky perhaps. That doesn’t bother me. I’ve ridden a great deal.”

“In spite of coming from London.”

“We ride there, you know. And we have a place in the country. When I’m there I’m always in the saddle.”

“I can see that. Are you going back to the Manor?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll show you a new way.”

“Perhaps I already know it.”

“Well, you’re not going the right way if you do. Come on.”

I turned the mare and walked her beside him.

“I’ve looked for you,” he said. “I wonder I haven’t seen you before.”

“I haven’t been here very long, you know.”

“What do you think of Cornwall?”

“Very … fascinating.”

“And how long will you stay?”

“I don’t know.”

“I hope you won’t go away too soon … not until you have got to know us really well.”

“That’s very welcoming, I must say.”

“What about the dragon?”

“The dragon?”

“The lady jailer.”

“Do you mean my governess, Miss Bell? She went back to London the next day.”