Jilted by Ann Barker Page B

ever come here. Now, she had the chance to see him for herself.
    The housekeeper, a thin, wiry-looking woman with iron-grey hair, obviously knew Miss Warburton very well, seemed to be gratified to meet Lady Agatha’s goddaughter, and was quite happy to permit the two ladies to make a tour of the house without her.
    ‘I won’t take you all the way round,’ said Jessie confidingly as they made their way up the stairs that led up from the hall. ‘Iexpect Lady Agatha will want to do that. I would be grateful, however, if you will perhaps not mention today’s visit.’
    ‘Of course,’ Eustacia replied, as they climbed the stairs. Like the majority of the house, it was Elizabethan, and richly carved with vines and grapes, in the style of Grinling Gibbons. There was a sharp turn to the right at the top of the stairs, and Eustacia gasped with admiration, for she found herself standing at the end of a long gallery, with huge windows on one side, and bookcases which extended from floor to exquisitely painted ceiling on the other. The windows looked out onto a well kept old-fashioned parterre.
    ‘This place seems well managed,’ remarked Eustacia looking round her with the eye of one accustomed to a father’s diligence and a mother’s good housekeeping. The house was obviously cared for, with highly polished wood and sparkling windows, and the fabric of the place looked to be in good order. How much was Ilam responsible for this good care, she wondered? She bent to examine an exquisitely decorated table, and slipped her reticule off her wrist when it got in the way.
    ‘The gardens are beautiful, aren’t they?’ said Jessie. Eustacia looked up and wandered over to join her at the window. Beyond the parterre was a terrace with a summerhouse, and a variety of trees behind. ‘They were tended especially by Ilam’s grandmother. Ilam was born here, as his grandfather was alive at the time, and Ilam’s father was the viscount. He and the previous Lord Ashbourne hated each other. It runs in the family, I’m afraid – fathers and sons hating one another. Do you want to see the portrait now?’
    They went into an anteroom set in a corner of the house, with latticed windows in two of the four walls. With two doors diagonally opposite each other, there was little space for furniture or wall decoration. There was one large picture in the room, hung to face the window to the left of the door through which they had just come. The gentleman in the picture was dressed according to the fashion of about twenty years ago. He was leaning negligently against a heavy wooden desk, his arms folded, one leg crossed over the other. It was an unusual pose.
    There was only one portrait of Eustacia’s father at her home. In that picture, he was depicted as being outside in the grounds, the house appearing in the background. Beside him was seated Lady Hope with a diminutive Eustacia upon her knee. There was also a sketch of her father, again outside with the house in the distance. In this drawing, he was shown with his gun, and his dog lying obediently at his feet. On visits to other stately homes, Eustacia had seen similarly stylized depictions of the owner in a family group, or in a pose which sought to convey his sporting prowess. Often, too, there were portraits of peers in the ermine robes of their rank.
    The stance of the sitter in this picture, however, seemed to suggest an attitude which might best be described as ‘If you want to paint me, you’ll do it here, damn your eyes.’ His expression was not a pleasant one; yet it was a handsome face as Jessie had said, if rather a lean one, with high cheekbones, soaring brows, a well-shaped but thin-lipped mouth and dark, rather hard eyes with a hint of a cynical smile behind them.
    ‘Was the painting done here, or at Ashbourne?’ Eustacia asked, wondering why it remained here when the man who had sat for it was resident elsewhere.
    ‘It was done here, when he was Lord Ilam,’ Jessie