Saraband for Two Sisters

“So you brought them here?”

“They are all men whom I can trust.”

“There will only be four women in this house, then?”

“Do you want more? You can choose either Meg or Grace Jesson for your personal maid.

Give yourself a day or two to decide which.”

“What are their duties now?”

“I don’t know. Mrs. Cherry and Cherry work that out But you only have to ask for what you want, you know.”

“Everything seems very well looked after.”

He smiled. “That is army training, I’ll swear. Now you would like to wash and we will eat. It has been a strange day for you.”

“The only wedding day I ever had,” I said lightly, and then wished I hadn’t, for my words might have reminded him that he had had two and almost a third if Carlotta was right.

He left me for a while, and alone in the bedchamber I peered about me. It was a large room and contained a carved chest, a court cupboard, several chairs, a table on which stood a mirror, and two heavy pewter candlesticks.

I tried to avert my eyes from the great four-poster bed, for I had to admit to myself that I was very uneasy about what would be expected of me. I felt so stupidly ignorant, but I supposed all I should have to do was submit. It seemed to me then that I heard Bersaba’s mocking laughter. How strange! But a room like this would make one imaginative. I couldn’t help thinking of all the husbands and wives who had slept here and he of course would have shared that bed with his first wife. I went to the deep bay window set in an embrasure. There was a window seat with padded velvet cushions and heavy embroidered curtains which matched the bed hangings. I knelt for a moment on the window seat and looked out. Before me lay a green lawn and, not more than a hundred yards away, though largely hidden by a high wall, the crenellated towers of what looked like a miniature castle. There was a knock on the door. It was one of the Jesson girls with hot water.

“Master said to bring it, my lady,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said. “Are you Grace?”

“No, I’m Meg, my lady.”

“Thank you, Meg.”

I washed my hands and as I did so Grace came in with the light baggage I had brought

 with me, so I was able to change my riding clothes for a gown, and when I had done this Richard appeared to conduct me to the meal which he said was waiting for us. Together we went to the dining room.

“I shall lose myself here,” I commented.

“At first perhaps,” he said. “But there will be plenty to show you the way.” The dining room was lofty, with a beautiful carved ceiling. By now the candles had been lighted although it was not yet quite dark. The walls were covered in tapestry with predominating blues and reds depicting the War of the Roses on one side and what Richard told me was the battle of Bosworth Field on the other. He said I might wish to do some tapestry myself as I was fond of needlework. “It will be something for you to do while I’m away,” he added. “You will not go yet,” I said fearfully and tried to imagine myself alone in this big house with strangers.

“I think not, but a soldier always has to be ready when the call comes.” I felt it was a warning. ‘Tomorrow when daylight comes it will all look different,” I thought; and I suddenly thought of Trystan Priory, where everything seemed suddenly homely.

Supper was served by Jesson and two menservants, which seemed strange because we always had girls to serve at home and so did they at Pondersby Hall. But I had to admit that everything was done with the greatest precision and efficiency. There was cold duck and beef and mutton and venison together with pies, which I was not hungry enough to tackle. Richard urged me to take a little of the malmsey wine which was served in fine Venetian glasses, and as I drank I felt less apprehensive. As the darkness fell and I smiled across the table at my husband, his face mellowed by the candlelight, I told myself I was going to be happy. I thought, “It is all so strange and I am young and so inexperienced and Trystan Priory, my mother, and Bersaba seem so very far away... .”

The meal was over and I went back to our bedchamber. My nightgown had been laid out on the bed and I undressed and looked out the window.

There was a half-moon and it was a clear night as I stood there and saw again the towers of the miniature castle. It looked ghostly in moonlight and if I hadn’t seen it hy the light of day I should have thought it wasn’t quite real.

As I stood there I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders.

I swung round, alarmed. Richard was standing behind me.

“I startled you,” he said.

“A little. What is the castle out there? Is it a castle? It looks like a toy one.”

“That,” he said, “is Flamstead Folly.”

“What does that mean?”

He took my hand and stood beside me. “It means that an ancestor of mine, my great grandfather, had it built.”

“A little castle?”