There was a stone path crossing the lawns on which grew some very ancient yews which must have survived the Round heads, for they were reputed to be two hundred years old. Ii the centre of one of the lawns was a sun-dial and I could not resist crossing the grass to look at it. There was an inscription on it almost obliterated by time and it was en graved in an elaborate script very difficult to decipher.
“Savour each hour,” I could read, but the rest of the writing was covered by greenish moss. I rubbed it with my finger and looked with dismay at the green stain there. My mo the would be reproachful. How could I arrive at Derringham Manor less than immaculate!
“It’s difficult to read, you find?”
Derringham Manor I turned sharply. Joel Derringham was standing behind me. So absorbed had I been in studying the sun-dial that I had been unaware of his approach on the soft grass.
“There is so much moss covering the words,” I replied.
I had rarely spoken before to Joel Derringham. He was the only son, aged about twenty-one or two. Even now he looked very like Sir John;
he would be exactly like him when he reached his age. He had the same light brown hair and pale blue eyes-the rather aquiline nose and kindly mouth. Considering Sir John and his son, the adjective which springs to mind is ‘pleasant’. They were kind and compassionate without being weak, and, when I come to think of it, that is about the greatest compliment one human being can pay another.
He smiled at me.
“I can tell you what they are:
‘ “Savour each hour Dwell not in the past. Live each day fully. It may be your last.” ‘
“Rather a grim warning,” I said.
“But sound advice.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” It occurred to me that Iought to explain my presence.
“I’m Wilhelmina Maddox,” I went on.
“And I have been invited to tea.”
“I know who you are, of course,” he said.
“Let me take you to my sisters.”
“Thank you.”
“I have seen you near the school,” he added, as we walked across the lawn.
“My father often says what an asset the school is to the neighbourhood.”
“It’s gratifying to be useful while earning a living.”
“Oh I agree. Miss … er … Wilhelmina. If I may say so, it is a little formal to suit you.”
“I am known as Minella.”
“That’s better. Miss Minella. Much better.”
We had come to the house. The heavy door was slightly ajar. He pushed it wide and we went into the hall. Tall windows, flagged floor, wonderfully vaulted roof with hammer beams it enchanted me. In the centre was the great oak refectory table with pewter plates and goblets. Armour hung on the stone walls out of which seats had been cut. The chairs were Carolean and a huge portrait of Charles II dominated! the hall. I paused for a few seconds to study that heavy sensuous face which might have been gross but for the twinkling humour in the eyes and a certain kindliness in the curve of the lips.
“The family’s benefactor,” he said.
“It’s a magnificent portrait.” “Presented by the Merry Monarch himself after he had visited us.” “You must love your house.”
“Well, one does. It has something to do with the family’s having lived here over the years. Even though it was almost;
rebuilt at the Restoration, parts of it go back to the Plantagenet era. “
Envy is not one of my faults but I did feel a twinge of it then. To belong to such a house, such a family, must give one a great sense of pride. It sat lightly on Joel Derringham. I doubted he had given the matter much thought. Always he would have accepted the fact that he had been born into this house and would in due course inherit it.
After all, he was the only son and therefore the undoubted heir.
“I suppose,” I said impulsively, ‘this is what is called being born with a silver spoon in your mouth. “
He looked startled and I realized that I was giving voice to my thoughts in a manner of which I could be sure my mother would not approve.
“All this,” I said, ‘yours . from the day you were born . simply because you were born here. How lucky you were! Suppose you had been born in one of the cottages on the estate! ”
“But I should not be myself with different parents,” he pointed out.
“Suppose two babies had been exchanged and one from the cottages brought up as Joel Derringham and you as the cottage child. Would anyone tell the difference when you grew up? ” ” I am very like my father, I believe. “
“That is because you have been brought up here.”
“I do look like him.”
Yes, you do . ,”
” Environment . birth . what does it have? It is a matter which has confounded the doctors for years. It is not something which can be solved in a few moments. “
“I’m afraid I have been rather impertinent. I was thinking aloud.”
“Certainly you were not. It’s an interesting theory.”
“I was overwhelmed by the house.”
“I’m glad it has that effect on you. You felt its antiquity … the spirits of my dead ancestors.”
“I can only say I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I liked your frankness. Shall I take you up now? They’ll be waiting for you.”
There was a staircase leading from the hall. We mounted this and came to a gallery hung with portraits. Then we went up a winding stair and were on a landing faced by several doors. Joel opened one of them and I immediately heard Sybil’s voice.
“She’s here. Come along in, Minella. We’re waiting.”
The room was what was known as the solarium because it had been built to catch the sun. At one end was a tapestry on a frame at which I discovered Lady Derringham was working. There was a spinning-wheel at the other end of the room. I wondered if anyone used that now. In the centre was a large table with a piece of needlework on it. I learned later the girls worked at it in this room. There was a harpsichord and a spinet and I could imagine how different the place would look when cleared for dancing, the candles nickering in their sconces and the ladies and gentlemen in their exquisite clothes.
Margot cried in her accented English: “Do not stand there goggle-eyed, Minelle.” (She always adapted our names to her own language. ) “Have you never seen a solar before?”
“I expect,” said Maria, ‘that Minella finds this rather different from the schoolhouse. “
Maria meant to be kind but I often found a sting in her kindness. She was the more snobbish of the Derringham girls.
Joel said: “Well, I’ll leave you girls. Goodbye, Miss Maddox.”
As the door shut on him Maria demanded: “Where did you meet Joel?”
“When I was coming to the house. He brought me in.”
“Joel always feels he has to help everybody,” said Man “He’d carry a basket for a kitchen girl if he thought it was to heavy for her. Mama says it’s demeaning, and so it is. Jo should know better.”
“And look down his aristocratic nose at the schoolmistress I said sharply, ‘for after all, since she is so far beneath hil it is a wonder he notices her at all.” j Margot shrieked with laughter.
“Bravo, Minellel’ she erie ” And if Joel should know better, so should you, Marie. New cross swords . is that right? ” I nodded.
“Never cross swon with Minella because she will always beat you, and if she is th schoolmistress’s daughter and you are the squire’s … never mind. She is the clever one.” :
“Oh Margot,” I cried, ‘you are ridiculous. ” But I knew the tone of my voice thanked her for coming to my aid.