“Tom,” he said, “go to the house and ask for shelter. You know your part. We’ll stay here with the horses.”
It was not long before Tom returned with a groom, who looked at us curiously. “If you will go into the house, my master will see you,” he said.
“Ah,” said Edwin, “I did not think we should be turned away. Tom, help with the horses.”
Tom did so and we went across the path and into the hall. A serving girl was standing there waiting for us. I saw her eyes take in our appearance and come back to Harriet, who looked as beautiful as ever in her Puritan robes. It amazed me how she managed to convey a demureness which I knew was quite alien to her. She was a superb actress.
“Please to wait,” the girl said. “Master will be down.”
I studied the hall with its lofty vaulted roof and its panelled walls on which was displayed armour of all description. I supposed that was puritanical enough, as it was through force of arms that the Puritans had beaten the Royalists and driven them into exile. I could detect lightened patches where I presumed tapestry had hung. There was a long refectory table on which stood a few pewter utensils, and there were benches on either side of the table. I wondered whether they had been put there to create a lack of comfort while eating.
There was scarcely anything else in the hall, and although it was summer and promised to be a hot day, there was a chill in the air.
I shall never forget my first glimpse of Carleton Eversleigh.
He came down the stairs at one end of the hall. A fine, carved, wooden staircase of a kind which I remembered from before I had left England and which was typical of the Tudor era when this part of the house had clearly been built or reconstructed.
He was, as I remembered Edwin’s telling me, tall and he was certainly impressive, perhaps more so in the plain black garments of a Puritan than he would have been in the silk and lace fripperies of the Royalist regime. His dark hair was short and fitted his head like a cap after the only acceptable fashion, and the touch of severity which I had noticed in people’s dress since I had set foot in England was accentuated in his costume.
But he was an impressive man—his complexion pale, his eyes dark and luminous, his brows heavy, his features strong and large. What Edwin had said about his being larger than life was certainly true.
His footsteps rang out on the stone flags as he advanced towards us. I did not detect any expression of recognition for Edwin or surprise at seeing Harriet and me.
“God preserve you, friend,” he said.
Edwin replied: “God preserve you, friend.” He went on: “I am travelling to London with my wife and her sister. We stayed the night at an inn and during that time our purses were stolen by villains who left the inn before sunrise. We travelled with one servant and I propose now to send him off to my house in Chester to bring money for me. Until then, we are in a sorry plight. Passing your house, sir, we called in the hope of finding a little shelter and perhaps a bite to eat.”
“You will be fed and sheltered here, friend, until your servant rescues you.”
“When, sir, you will be recompensed for all that you have given us.”
“As the Good Book says, we must not turn away the stranger within our gates,” replied Carleton Eversleigh, and I could not help feeling how incongruously this mode of speech seemed coming from him. He had the face of an Elizabethan buccaneer rather than a godly Puritan.
He went to a bell rope and pulled it. Two maids came hurrying in from behind the screens. One was the girl we had already seen.
“We have visitors seeking shelter, Jane,” said Carleton. “Pray have rooms made ready. A man and wife … did you say, friend? And sister-in-law and manservant. Two rooms then—one for the husband and wife, and another for his sister-in-law. The servant can be accommodated with our own.”
“Yes, master,” said the girl, bobbing a curtsy.
“Doubtless you are hungry,” went on Carleton.
We were. We had not felt like eating much while we were on the boat and had had nothing since we arrived in England.
“Sit down at the table,” he went on. “We abhor fleshly indulgence here and eat simply.”
He was right about that. Rye bread was brought and cold bacon with mugs of cider.
We were about to eat when we received a stern look from our host. We had not thanked God for what we were about to receive.
The simple food, however, tasted like ambrosia and nectar to us, though I was too excited to want to eat a great deal.
Carleton sat at the table as we ate and plied us with questions about our house in Chester. Between them, he and Harriet did very well. Harriet described it in detail. She spoke of flower beds bordered with rosemary, lavender and marjoram and how she enjoyed cultivating her flowers.
She became fascinated by the idea and went on to describe the exquisite blooms she grew, and I was sure she had never pruned a tree or pulled up a weed in her lifetime.
Carleton looked at her sternly and asked in a cold voice whether she could devote her time to a more useful purpose than growing flowers which were no good for anything but to be looked at.
Harriet demurely lowered her eyes and murmured, “God made flowers beautiful,” she reminded him, “but I see, my friend, that you have immediately probed my weakness. So much do I love flowers that they have become a vanity.”
“Vanity should be suppressed,” said Carleton, folding his hands together and raising his eyes to the vaulted roof, and I wondered whether he was immune from that sin—and even on such a short acquaintance I could well believe that he was not. “A sin,” he went on, “a snare. Continually must we fight to avoid the pitfalls which gape at our feet.”
“Amen,” said Harriet, and I thought of how we should laugh about this when we were alone.
I must confess a certain curiosity to see the woman who had married this man. I knew she existed because Edwin had mentioned her, so I said I was wondering if we should be honoured by meeting the lady of the house.
“Mistress Eversleigh is away from home at this time,” he told me.
“Then we shall not have the pleasure of thanking her for her hospitality.”
“We are not put on earth to take pleasure, mistress,” said Carleton, “so it is mercy that you are prevented from indulging in it.” I fancied I saw a twist of his lips as though he might be enjoying the scene. “And your name is …?” he went on turning to Edwin.
“Edward Leeson,” replied Edwin glibly. “My wife Bella and my sister-in-law, Harriet Groper.”
Carleton bowed his head.
“When you have eaten you shall be taken to the rooms I have allotted to you. I doubt not the journey to Chester and back will take a few days. You are the guests of Eversleigh until the time your man returns.”
“God will reward you in heaven for your goodness to these poor travellers,” said Edwin piously.
“I seek no reward,” retorted Carleton. “I only seek to do my duty to God.”
I wondered whether they were carrying this a little too far, but my experience of the next few days taught me that this was a normal conversation in a Puritan home.
It would be small wonder if there was unrest throughout the country and people were looking to the new King to come back and set up a new set of customs and behaviour.
We were given rooms side by side, and what cold, dreary rooms they were! The only furniture the bed, a court cupboard and a chair. There was a chill about the place which suggested that no fires were ever lighted in these rooms even in the heart of winter. I was glad it was the height of summer.