Such trees I had never seen. They stood in stately groups of birch and oak and pine with broad glades of gra.s.s and yellowing bracken between them.
"Ancient deer park once," shouted Ted. "Shall be again."
Essie paid little attention to him. We had made a very early start, and she was tired. She leaned back in the car with half closed eyes.
The trees retreated on each side of the road, and the wonderful old house came suddenly into sight, standing above its long terrace with its stone bal.u.s.trade.
Ted gave a sort of yelp.
"Oh Essie!" I cried. "Look--look! It"s perfect."
She gazed languidly for a moment, and then she sat up suddenly, and her face changed. She stared wildly at the house, and put out her hands as if to ward it off.
The car sped up to the arched doorway, with its coat of arms cut in grey stone, and Ted leaped out and rushed up the low steps to the bell.
"Not here! Not here!" gasped Essie, clinging to the car. "I can"t live here." She was trembling violently.
"Dear Essie," I said amazed, "we can"t remain in the car. Pull yourself together, and even if you don"t like the place don"t hurt Ted"s feelings by showing it."
She looked at me like one dazed, and inured to obedience got out, and we followed Ted into the house. We found ourselves in a large square hall.
She groaned and leaned against the wall.
"I can"t bear it," she whispered to me. "It"s no use, I can"t bear it."
"A gla.s.s of water, quick," I said to Ted, who turned beaming to us expecting a chorus of admiration. "Essie is overtired."
"What is the matter?" I said to her as he hurried away. "What"s wrong with this exquisite place?"
"It"s the house I come to at night," she said brokenly. "The dream house. I knew it directly I saw it. Look! There"s the minstrels"
gallery."
I could only stare at her amazed.
Kind Ted hurried back, splashing an overfull tumbler of water as he came, on the polished oak floor.
She sipped a little, but her hands shook so much that I had to hold the gla.s.s for her.
"Cheero, old girl," said Ted, patting her cheek, but Essie did not cheero.
"The lady ought to lie down," said the old woman who had opened the door to us. "There"s a sofy in the morning-room."
I supported Essie into an octagonal room leading out of the great hall, and laid her on a s.p.a.cious divan of dim red damask.
"Leave her alone with me for a bit," I said to Ted. "She is overwrought.
We made a very early start."
"I seem to have gone blind," she whispered when Ted had departed.
"Everything is black."
"You turned faint. You will be all right in a few minutes."
"Shall I? Would you mind telling me, Beatrice, is there--is there a picture over the fireplace?"
"Yes."
"What kind of picture?"
"It is a life-size portrait of a young cavalier with curls, in blue satin, holding his hat in his hand."
"I knew it," she groaned.
There was a long silence.
"I can"t bear it," she said. "You may say that is silly, Beatrice, but all the same I can"t. My life will break in two. If Ted lives here--I shall have nowhere to go."
"I don"t think it silly, dear, but I don"t understand. This is your old home where you lived nearly three hundred years ago, and to which you have so often come back in your dreams. Now you are coming back to it as your home once more. It seems to me a beautiful and romantic thing to have happened, and after the first surprise surely it must seem the same to you. You have always been so happy here."
"I can see a little now," she said. "Where is the gla.s.s of water?"
She sat up and drank a little, and then dabbed some of the water on her forehead.
"I"m all right now," she said, pushing back her wet hair.
"Don"t move. Rest a little; you have had a shock."
She did not seem to hear me. She rose slowly to her feet, and stood in front of the picture.
"Yes," she said to the cavalier. "It"s you, only not quite you either.
You are not really as handsome as that you know, and you have a firmer mouth and darker brows."
The cavalier smiled at her from the wall: a somewhat insipid supercilious face I thought, but a wonderful portrait.
The old caretaker came back.
"The gentleman said you"d be the better for something to eat," she said, "and that you would take it in the hall."
Through the open door I saw the chauffeur unstrapping the baskets from Fortnum and Mason.
"Whose portrait is that?" said Essie.
"Henry Vavasour Kenstone," said the old woman in a parrot voice.
"Equerry to our martyred King, by Vandyck. You will observe the jewelled sword and the gloves sewed with pearls. The sword and the gloves are preserved in the banqueting "all in a gla.s.s case."
Essie turned away from the picture, and sat down feebly by the window.
The clinking of plates, and Ted"s cheerful voice reached us, and the drawing of a cork.
"Our Mr. Rupert, the present owner, favours the picture," said the woman proudly in her natural voice, "and when he come of age three years ago last Christmas there was a grand fancy ball and "e was dressed exackerly to match the picture, with a curled wig and all. And "e wore the actual sword, and the very gloves, at least "e "eld "em in "is "and. They was too stiff to put on. "E did look a picture. And "is mother being Spanish "ad a lace shawl on "er "ead, a d.u.c.h.ess she was in "er own right, and she might a been a queen to look at her. I watched the dancing from the gallery, me having been nurse in the family, and a beautiful sight it was."