hardly requires your patronage,’ I snapped,thoroughly annoyed by him.
George was lying back laughing as Louisa Thorpe tickled his face with a long piece of grass.
‘Really, Louisa!’ boomed Lady Denby. ‘Do leave poor Mr Tyler alone. He’ll never finish his pie if you continue to torment him.’
Mrs Thorpe pretended she had not heard and I began to feel both irritated and depressed. What should have been a happy day proved to be too full of tension to be wholly enjoyable. Yet there was one small circumstance that made up for everything. I could see that Colonel Hartley was deep in conversation with Elinor. He looked up suddenly and smiled at me and then raised his wine glass towards me in a silent toast.
CHAPTER EIGHT
That night the weather broke. Thunder rolled, lightning flashed and I heard heavy rain drenching the parched earth. I slept badly and woke unrefreshed. The morning was dark, the rain still fell and I realized we were all destined to spend the day indoors.
At breakfast Sir Ralph declared it was a perfect day for showing us his collection in the Long Gallery. Rowland, Elinor and Mrs Thorpe excused themselves from the tour as they had seen it all before. The rest of us obligingly trooped up to the top floor, along creaking old passages, to the gallery, which ran the full length of the house, the long windows letting in as much light as possible on such a dull day.
Sir Ralph was an enthusiastic collector but not a discriminating one. My second examination of the exhibits confirmed my first impression formed on our initial visit at the beginning of our stay at Lovegrove. There never was such an accumulation of rubbish and genuine curiosities. What is more, the items were displayed in confusion with little attempt to separate the exhibits. Cabinets full of medallions and cameos jostled with halberds, crossbows andhelmets. Matting from the Sandwich Islands was displayed next to cases of mineral specimens. Suits of armour were mixed up with fragments of Roman statuary, Greek vases and bits of tapestry.
A glass box contained a lock of Mary Queen of Scot’s hair.
‘My heroine!’ breathed Lady Denby.
I did not tell her I had always thought her a very silly woman.
I tried to let my eye pick out a few things to study properly and let the rest fade into the background; bits of rusty metal and dusty rhinoceros horn did not interest me.
This lasted until eleven and after that the party dispersed . Lady Denby retired to her study to work on her novel but I did not stay to see what the others were doing. I was determined to do a little exploring on my own as there were parts of the house that I had scarcely seen.
Eventually I found myself in the Tapestry Room, an unoccupied bedroom full of Tudor and Stuart furniture and, as its name implied, lined with faded tapestries telling biblical stories. I tried to decipher them and identified Abraham about to slay Isaac and David holding up the head of the dead Goliath. Everything else was too frayed and blurred by age to make out.
Suddenly I heard a sound that made me turn cold: a muffled moaning. I remembered that this room was supposed to be haunted by a Lady Chater who appeared, moaning and sighing for her husband who had been carried off to the Tower. I almost expected to see a grey apparition in Tudor dress.
I stood frozen to the spot. The moaning continued, followed by a small shriek and then a man’s voice and awoman’s laughter. It was impossible to hear any actual words but certainly there were two people very close – not in the room itself and not, I thought, next door, but …
I moved round the room, listening at the walls, and at last found a portion of the tapestry which was not secured by pegs at its base. On lifting it up I found a door let into the panelling. I was about to knock and then changed my mind. Someone was still murmuring and laughing on the other side of the door and I feared an embarrassing confrontation. I hastily slipped out of
George was lying back laughing as Louisa Thorpe tickled his face with a long piece of grass.
‘Really, Louisa!’ boomed Lady Denby. ‘Do leave poor Mr Tyler alone. He’ll never finish his pie if you continue to torment him.’
Mrs Thorpe pretended she had not heard and I began to feel both irritated and depressed. What should have been a happy day proved to be too full of tension to be wholly enjoyable. Yet there was one small circumstance that made up for everything. I could see that Colonel Hartley was deep in conversation with Elinor. He looked up suddenly and smiled at me and then raised his wine glass towards me in a silent toast.
CHAPTER EIGHT
That night the weather broke. Thunder rolled, lightning flashed and I heard heavy rain drenching the parched earth. I slept badly and woke unrefreshed. The morning was dark, the rain still fell and I realized we were all destined to spend the day indoors.
At breakfast Sir Ralph declared it was a perfect day for showing us his collection in the Long Gallery. Rowland, Elinor and Mrs Thorpe excused themselves from the tour as they had seen it all before. The rest of us obligingly trooped up to the top floor, along creaking old passages, to the gallery, which ran the full length of the house, the long windows letting in as much light as possible on such a dull day.
Sir Ralph was an enthusiastic collector but not a discriminating one. My second examination of the exhibits confirmed my first impression formed on our initial visit at the beginning of our stay at Lovegrove. There never was such an accumulation of rubbish and genuine curiosities. What is more, the items were displayed in confusion with little attempt to separate the exhibits. Cabinets full of medallions and cameos jostled with halberds, crossbows andhelmets. Matting from the Sandwich Islands was displayed next to cases of mineral specimens. Suits of armour were mixed up with fragments of Roman statuary, Greek vases and bits of tapestry.
A glass box contained a lock of Mary Queen of Scot’s hair.
‘My heroine!’ breathed Lady Denby.
I did not tell her I had always thought her a very silly woman.
I tried to let my eye pick out a few things to study properly and let the rest fade into the background; bits of rusty metal and dusty rhinoceros horn did not interest me.
This lasted until eleven and after that the party dispersed . Lady Denby retired to her study to work on her novel but I did not stay to see what the others were doing. I was determined to do a little exploring on my own as there were parts of the house that I had scarcely seen.
Eventually I found myself in the Tapestry Room, an unoccupied bedroom full of Tudor and Stuart furniture and, as its name implied, lined with faded tapestries telling biblical stories. I tried to decipher them and identified Abraham about to slay Isaac and David holding up the head of the dead Goliath. Everything else was too frayed and blurred by age to make out.
Suddenly I heard a sound that made me turn cold: a muffled moaning. I remembered that this room was supposed to be haunted by a Lady Chater who appeared, moaning and sighing for her husband who had been carried off to the Tower. I almost expected to see a grey apparition in Tudor dress.
I stood frozen to the spot. The moaning continued, followed by a small shriek and then a man’s voice and awoman’s laughter. It was impossible to hear any actual words but certainly there were two people very close – not in the room itself and not, I thought, next door, but …
I moved round the room, listening at the walls, and at last found a portion of the tapestry which was not secured by pegs at its base. On lifting it up I found a door let into the panelling. I was about to knock and then changed my mind. Someone was still murmuring and laughing on the other side of the door and I feared an embarrassing confrontation. I hastily slipped out of
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