“Are you friendly with this Lord Polhorgan?” I asked quickly to hide my emotion.
u Nobody could be friendly with him. We’re polite to each other. We don’t see much. of him. He’s a sick man, well guarded by a nurse and a staff of servants. “
“And his family?”
” He quarrelled with them all. And now he lives alone in his glory.
There are a hundred rooms at Polhorgan . all furnished in the most flamboyant manner. I believe, though, that dustsheets perpetually cover the flamboyance. You sec why we call it the Folly. “
“Poor old man!”
” I knew your soft heart would be touched. You may meet him. He’ll probably consider that he should receive the new Bride of Pendorric.”
” Why do you always refer to me as the Bride of Pendorric —as though in capital letters?”
” Oh, it’s a saying at Pendorric. There are lots of crazy things like that.”
“And your family?”
” Now things are very different at Pendorric. Some of our furniture has been standing where it does at this moment for four hundred years.
We’ve got old Mrs. Penhalligan, who is a daughter of Jesse and Lizzie Pleydell, and the Pleydells have looked after the Pendorrics for generations. There’s always a faithful member of that family to see that we’re cared for. Old Mrs. Penhalligan is a fine housekeeper, and she mends the counterpanes and curtains which are constantly falling apart. She keeps the servants in order at the same time—as well as ourselves. She’s sixty-five, but her daughter Maria, who never married, will follow in her footsteps. “
“And your sister?”
” My sister’s married to Charles Chaston, who worked as an agent when my father travelled a good deal. He manages the home farm with me now.
They live in the northern section of the house. We shall have the south. Don’t be afraid that you’re going to be hemmed in by relations.
It isn’t a bit like that at Pendorric. You need never see the rest of the family if you don’t want to, except at meals. We all eat together—it’s an old family custom—and anyway the servant problem makes it a necessity now. You’ll be surprised at the family customs we preserve. Really, you’ll think you’ve stepped back a hundred years. I do myself after I’ve been away for a while. “
” And your sister, what is her name?”
” Morwenna. Our parents believed in following the family traditions and giving us Cornish names wherever possible. Hence the Petrocs and Morwennas. The twins are Lowella and Hyson—Hyson was my mother’s maiden name. Lowella refers to herself as Lo and her sister as Hy. I suspect she has a nickname for all of us. She’s an incorrigible creature.”
” How old are the twins?”
” Twelve.”
“Are they at school?”
” No. They do go from time to time, but Lowella has an unfortunate habit of running away and dragging Hyson with her. She always says that they can’t be happy anywhere but at Pendorric. We’ve compromised at the moment by having a governess—a trained schoolmistress. It was difficult getting the permission of the educational authorities, but Charles and Morwenna want to keep them at home for a year or so until the child becomes more stable. You’ll have to beware of Lowella.”
“How?”
” It’ll be all right if she likes you. But she gets up to tricks. Hyson is different. She’s the quiet one. They look exactly alike, but their temperaments are completely different. Thank heaven for that. No household could tolerate two Lowellas. “
“What about your parents?”
” They’re dead and I remember very little about them. My mother died when we were five, and an aunt looked after us. She still comes to stay quite often and keeps a suite of rooms at Pendorric. Our father lived abroad a great deal when Charles came in. Charles is fifteen years older than Morwenna.”
” You said your mother died when we were five. Who else besides you?”
“Didn’t I mention that Morwenna and I were twins?”
” No. You said that Lowella and Hyson were.”
“Well, twins run in families, you know. Quite obviously they’ve started to run in ours.”
“Is Morwenna like you?”
” We’re not identical like Lowella and Hyson; but people^ say they can see a resemblance.”
” Roc,” I said leaning forward, ” you know, I’m beginning to feel I can’t wait to meet this family of yours.”
That’s settled it,” he replied. ” It’s time we went home. “
So “I was, in a measure, prepared for Pendorric.
We had left London after lunch and it was eight o’clock before we got off tile train.
Roc had said that he wished we could have motored down, because he wanted to make my crossing of the Tamar something of a ceremony.
However, he had arranged that his car should be waiting at the station so that he could drive me ‘home. Old Toms, the chauffeur-gardener and man-of-all-work at Pendorric, had driven it in that morning. So I found myself sitting beside Roc in his rather shabby Daimler and feeling a mingling of longing and apprehension, which seemed natural enough in the circumstances.
I was very anxious to make a good impression, for in this new life to which I was going I knew no one except my husband; and I had suddenly realised what an odd position I was in.
I was in a strange country—for the island had been my home—and without friends. If Esther McBane had been in England I should not have felt quite so lonely. She would at least have been one friend.
But Esther was far away in Rhodesia now, as deeply absorbed in her new life as I was becoming in mine. There had been other school friends, but none as close as Esther, and as we ‘had never exchanged letters after we left school those friendships had lapsed.
But what foolish thoughts these were! I might not have old friends, but I had a husband.
Roc swung the car out of the station yard, and as we left the town, the quiet of the summer evening closed in about us. We were in a narrow winding lane with banks on either side which were dotted with wild roses, and there was the sweet smell of honeysuckle in the air.
“Is it far to Pendorric?” I asked.
“Eight miles or so. The sea is ahead of us, the moor’s behind us.
We’ll do some walking on the moors . or riding. Can you ride? “
” I’m afraid not.” , “I’ll teach you. You’re going to make this place home, Favel. Some people never can, but I think you will.”
” I believe I shall.” ] We were silent and I studied the landscape avidly. The : houses which we passed were little more than cottages, not by any means beautiful—indeed they struck me as rather grim-all made of that grey Cornish stone. I fancied I caught a whiff of the sea as we slowly climbed a steep hill and went forward into wooded country. We were soon descending : again on the other side of the hill. ” When you see the sea you’ll know we’re not far from home,” Roc told me, and almost immediately we began to climb again.
At the top of the hill he stopped the car, and putting his arm along the back of the seat, pointed towards the sea.
” Can you see the house there, right on the edge of the cliff? That’s the Folly. You can’t see Pendorric from here because there’s a hill in the way; but it’s a little to the right.”
The Folly looked almost like a medieval castle.
“I wonder he didn’t supply a drawbridge and a moat,” murmured Roc. ” Though heaven knows it would have been difficult to have a moat up there. Still, all the more laudable that he should achieve it.” He started up the car, and when he had gone half a mile I caught my first glimpse of Pendorric.
It was so like the other house that I was astonished.