no man should ever equal him.”
“Quite right, Griselda,” said Lady Amberleigh.
“But for your sake I wish we could find one such,” said Caroline. “I could not wish you to have anything less.”
“I long to meet him,” said Griselda. “He must be a most excellent man.”
Yet privately she did not think he could ever compare with the gentleman she had met at the Abbey.
“Yes, he is,” said Caroline. “Ah, look Mamma, here is that lovely old inn we admired so the other day! That rambler rose on the south wall is quite a marvellous thing – to still be in flower in August. What sort can it be?”
It was the very inn of yesterday’s adventure and Griselda feared that Caroline, in her enthusiasm, would stop the carriage and send in to discover the name of the rose. She had an awful picture in her mind of having to cower in the carriage corner, her face turned away rudely while Caroline and Lady Amberleigh had a discussion with the landlady.
Fortunately Lady Amberleigh said, “I cannot understand this passion for gardening, Caro. That is why one employs a gardener.”
“I know you think it eccentric of me, Mamma,” said Caroline, “and you will be shocked when you hear of me at Priorscote, wearing a holland apron and taking lessons in pruning from the head gardener. Priorscote is Sir Thomas’s seat,” she explained to Griselda.
“His principal seat,” corrected Lady Amberleigh. “There is also a place in Cambridgeshire that came from his maternal grandfather, did it not?”
“Yes, but he does not care for it. He says the country there is too flat for his taste. Not that he neglects the place – apparently the house is twice as large, but Priorscote is his father’s house and where he grew up.”
“Then he must prefer it,” said Griselda. “Where is it?”
“In Rutland. Near to Stamford where there are very respectable assemblies, so one will never be short of opportunities for dancing. You see, Mamma, I am already thinking of having Griselda to stay with us this winter.”
“You should be a little more cautious,” said Lady Amberleigh. “You may get another vexing letter from Lady Thorpe.”
“I shall not be wounded by it if I do,” said Caroline, stoutly. “I have heard his side of the story now and trust him entirely.”
This was all very mysterious and interesting, but Griselda did not know them well enough to enquire further. Besides, they had now reached the object of their drive – a very familiar ruined abbey. Griselda found herself trembling slightly as she climbed down from the carriage. What if he was there with his sketchbook again?
“Would it be too much for you to walk back from here?” asked Caroline. “It is scarce three miles and the day is so fine. I did not walk at all yesterday because of the storm.”
“No, I should be glad of the exercise,” said Griselda, glancing around her, her heart pounding.
“Mamma, will you manage without us?” Caroline asked Lady Amberleigh who remained seated in the Landau.
“Perfectly, my dear,” said Lady Amberleigh. “You may enjoy your ruin at your leisure. I can never see what you young people see in ruins. It does not seem at all an interesting object to me. No, I am going to call on Mrs Halbourne at Synde Place where at least I can be sure of a roof.”
“Dear Mamma,” said Caroline as the carriage drove off. “She has no sense of the picturesque. But I am sure you must love an old abbey. I shall be very disappointed if you do not.”
Griselda, not quite trusting her voice, followed her into the chapel.
“And we have the place to ourselves!” exclaimed Caroline. “That is how it should be.”
Griselda, who did not know yet whether she was disappointed or relieved, nodded in agreement and turned to study the broken tracery of the east window – the window he had been so diligently sketching. Indeed she fancied
“Quite right, Griselda,” said Lady Amberleigh.
“But for your sake I wish we could find one such,” said Caroline. “I could not wish you to have anything less.”
“I long to meet him,” said Griselda. “He must be a most excellent man.”
Yet privately she did not think he could ever compare with the gentleman she had met at the Abbey.
“Yes, he is,” said Caroline. “Ah, look Mamma, here is that lovely old inn we admired so the other day! That rambler rose on the south wall is quite a marvellous thing – to still be in flower in August. What sort can it be?”
It was the very inn of yesterday’s adventure and Griselda feared that Caroline, in her enthusiasm, would stop the carriage and send in to discover the name of the rose. She had an awful picture in her mind of having to cower in the carriage corner, her face turned away rudely while Caroline and Lady Amberleigh had a discussion with the landlady.
Fortunately Lady Amberleigh said, “I cannot understand this passion for gardening, Caro. That is why one employs a gardener.”
“I know you think it eccentric of me, Mamma,” said Caroline, “and you will be shocked when you hear of me at Priorscote, wearing a holland apron and taking lessons in pruning from the head gardener. Priorscote is Sir Thomas’s seat,” she explained to Griselda.
“His principal seat,” corrected Lady Amberleigh. “There is also a place in Cambridgeshire that came from his maternal grandfather, did it not?”
“Yes, but he does not care for it. He says the country there is too flat for his taste. Not that he neglects the place – apparently the house is twice as large, but Priorscote is his father’s house and where he grew up.”
“Then he must prefer it,” said Griselda. “Where is it?”
“In Rutland. Near to Stamford where there are very respectable assemblies, so one will never be short of opportunities for dancing. You see, Mamma, I am already thinking of having Griselda to stay with us this winter.”
“You should be a little more cautious,” said Lady Amberleigh. “You may get another vexing letter from Lady Thorpe.”
“I shall not be wounded by it if I do,” said Caroline, stoutly. “I have heard his side of the story now and trust him entirely.”
This was all very mysterious and interesting, but Griselda did not know them well enough to enquire further. Besides, they had now reached the object of their drive – a very familiar ruined abbey. Griselda found herself trembling slightly as she climbed down from the carriage. What if he was there with his sketchbook again?
“Would it be too much for you to walk back from here?” asked Caroline. “It is scarce three miles and the day is so fine. I did not walk at all yesterday because of the storm.”
“No, I should be glad of the exercise,” said Griselda, glancing around her, her heart pounding.
“Mamma, will you manage without us?” Caroline asked Lady Amberleigh who remained seated in the Landau.
“Perfectly, my dear,” said Lady Amberleigh. “You may enjoy your ruin at your leisure. I can never see what you young people see in ruins. It does not seem at all an interesting object to me. No, I am going to call on Mrs Halbourne at Synde Place where at least I can be sure of a roof.”
“Dear Mamma,” said Caroline as the carriage drove off. “She has no sense of the picturesque. But I am sure you must love an old abbey. I shall be very disappointed if you do not.”
Griselda, not quite trusting her voice, followed her into the chapel.
“And we have the place to ourselves!” exclaimed Caroline. “That is how it should be.”
Griselda, who did not know yet whether she was disappointed or relieved, nodded in agreement and turned to study the broken tracery of the east window – the window he had been so diligently sketching. Indeed she fancied
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