Although it was a seaport town, it was not situated directly on Barnstable Bay. In order to reach Bideford, one had to cross the estuary, avoiding the dangerous bar that stretched across its mouth. The estuary was situated almost midway between Hartland Point and the Rock of Death. Facing the bar estuary, some twenty miles away, was Lundy Island. Its rocky, cloud-capped hills made Lundy Island a favorite haunt of Devon pirates and smugglers and their counter- parts from all over the world.
Safely across the bar and into the estuary, which flowed upland, was the village of Appledore. At Appledore, the estuary forked, becoming the Taw River to the left and the Torridge River to the right. Now the countryside became lush with rich meadowland and fruit orchards. A few miles up from Appledore the river reached fertile, green Bideford. It was here, in the Bideford hills, that Robert Small had his house, Wren Court.
Captain Small had made arrangements to be met at the dock when he and Skye and the French couple disembarked, and the four rode through the town and up the hills on two chestnut and two gray mounts. The little party made a delightful picture riding against the trees, trotting up the bright green hills.
As they approached Wren Court, Skye cried, “Oh, Robbie! Why have you never told me what a beautiful estate you owned?” She reined in her chestnut mare at the crest of a hill, and sat gazing rapturously at the red brick manse. Jean and Marie pulled up beside her, and Robbie was forced to stop with them.
He blushed. “It’s been in the family-the land at least-since the time of Henry V. Wren Court itself was built during the reign of Henry VII. That’s why the house is shaped like an ‘H’.”
Skye turned her brilliant blue eyes on him laughingly. “You’re far too modest, Robbie. I wasn’t expecting anything so lovely.”
“The family is landed gentry, Skye. There’s always one or more of us standing for Parliament. Unfortunately, I never married and got myself an heir, and my sister Cecily was widowed before she could have children. I suppose I’ll leave Wren Court to a family of distant cousins.” He sighed, then shook his reins and the gray gelding bolted for home, the other three mounts racing close behind.
The house was exquisite, a small and perfect jewel of mellowed red brick, covered in places with shining dark ivy and surrounded by green lawn. The crossbar of the “H” was two stories high, the sides were each three stories high. Skye would later find that this two-story section contained a long and light entry foyer on the ground floor. This foyer had two sweeping staircases on either side, both of which led to the second-floor open picture gallery. As the entire second floor was open, the first and second stories together made a huge two-tiered room. The wings of the main floor, to either side of the entry, were the kitchens and dining rooms. The second floor, beyond the gallery, was given over to the library and salons and the entire third floor to bedrooms.
As they rode up the gravel drive, Skye was further enchanted by the streams of sunlight catching the many leaded windows, and the profusion of late roses perfuming the air. Above the circled doorway was the family’s red-and-gold coat of arms. As they reached the house, four grooms came running to take the horses, and Robert Small carefully lifted Skye down from her saddle.
A small, plump woman with snapping blue eyes, silver hair, and rosy cheeks appeared in the doorway. “So, you’re finally back, Robbie! Is this Mistress Goya del Fuentes?” And without waiting for an answer, she held out her arms to Skye. “You poor dear! Well, you’re safe now, and we’ll take good care of you and the child. Come inside now!”
Dame Cecily swept Skye and Jean and Marie into the house to a small receiving room where a cheerful fire blazed. “Sit down, all of you. Why Robert made a lass in your condition ride from town I’ll never know. A cart would have been slower but safer. No matter, you’re here and well. Robert! See what’s keeping that shiftless Martha! There should be wine and biscuits ready for four tired travelers!”
“Oh, please Dame Cecily, you must call me Skye. Mistress Goya del Fuentes is such a large mouthful.”
“Thank you, child. Now, I am a plainspoken woman, so I am going to say what I have to now and then we will know where we stand with each other.” Dame Cecily nodded to Jean and Marie, who were seated on a couch to the right of the fireplace, listening attentively.
“I know I may speak before your servants, as they are also your friends and Robbie has written to me about them.”
Skye nodded. Dame Cecily took a deep bream. “My brother has told me something of your history. Poor lamb! How terrible to remember nothing of your life until a year ago. I do not approve of your late husband’s business, but I can see you are a lady bom. That’s plain. And Robert has always spoken highly of Khalid el Bey. That, my dear, is good enough for me. I welcome you to England with all my heart. Our home is yours as long as you wish it. Forever if you like.”
Skye felt tears prick her eyelids. “Thank you, Dame Cecily! Thank you with all my heart! Not just for myself, but for my servants too.”
“Lord bless me, child, I almost forgot! Robert, I had the old cottage at the end of the garden cleaned and refurbished for you,” she said, nodding to the French couple. “I thought you might prefer your privacy.”
Jean and Marie were deeply touched. The cottage given them sent Marie into joyful delirium. It, too, was of soft red brick, with a newly thatched roof and small leaded windows. There were two rooms in the cottage. The first was a large chamber with a big stone fireplace, the other a small bedchamber with a fine varnished oak bedstead. The entire cottage was furnished in sturdy carved oak furniture. The stone floors had been scrubbed and swept. There were late hollyhocks and michaelmas daisies growing outside by the door. Dame Cecily, it appeared, had thought of everything. A small book- lined room off the library was set aside for Jean to work in. It had an entry into the garden.
Skye was thrilled to see her two servants so well provided for. She could not thank Dame Cecily enough, but the Englishwoman brushed her gratitude aside, her blue eyes twinkling. “No need, child. What are friends for, may I ask?” And she then led Skye back to the main house and upstairs. Skye’s apartments took up the southwest comer of the second floor. The sitting room had a large gray stone fireplace with a carved mantel. The two large windows, dia- mond-shaped and lead-paned, were hung with deep-blue velvet draperies.
A deep bay window looked south over a rose garden, now in late bloom. The wide, polished oak floorboards were laid with thick red-and-blue Turkey carpets.
At the far end of the room on either side of the fireplace were arched and paneled doors, both of which led to the bedchamber. Here were windows facing both south and west, which made the room sunny and bright all year long, particularly in the winter. The fireplace here, which backed up to the one in the sitting room, had a pretty tiled border. The draperies here were of rose Velvet and matched the bed hangings and bedspread. Here again was a fine Turkey carpet, this one in blues and golds.
Off the bedchamber was a small dressing room. The furniture everywhere was of fine carved oak. There were bowls of fresh flowers in all three rooms. Skye was sure she would be happy here.
Dame Cecily drew forward an apple-cheeked young girl. “This is Daisy, my dear, I’ve chosen her to look after you.”
The girl smiled a friendly, gap-toothed smile, and bobbed Skye a curtsey. “I’m glad to serve you, mum.”
Skye smiled back. “Thank you, Daisy. I’ve been at sea for several weeks now, and more than anything I long for a bath. Could that be arranged?”
“Yes, mum! Let me get your boots off, and while you rest a bit I’ll see to setting up the bam.”