Philippa Gregory - Meridon

‘Call me Perry,’ he said negligently. ‘They were on good terms at first, she approached him about buying the Wideacre estate. Papa was alive then and there was some money around, we would have mortgaged it of course, and rented it out. Probably built some houses on the farmland, or planted more wheat. Your Mr Fortescue read her a lecture on profiteering and refused outright to sell. They didn’t like that much of course. But then when the whole estate went over to this Levellers’ republic both Mama and Papa thought that Mr Fortescue was simply insane! Playing ducks and drakes with your money, too!’

I nodded. ‘Did she ever tackle him with it?’ I asked.

‘Oh yes! He told her,’ Perry’s eyes sparkled. ‘He told her that there were more important things than an extra percentage on investment! He told her that there were more important things in life than a quick return on capital!’ He laughed aloud, a joyous innocent laugh. ‘My papa had died by then and my mama would say that there was nothing more important than money. Especially if you don’t have enough of it!’

I nodded and said nothing. I liked the sound of her ladyship more and more.

‘Does she run this estate or do you?’ I asked.

Lord Peregrine looked at me as if I had suggested an impossibility.

‘Well I can’t yet,’ he said. ‘Not while I’m at university. My mama does it all with her bailiff. When I’m married and take over I shall run it then, I suppose. Or I’ll keep the bailiff on and he’ll do it all.’

‘So she does it now?’ I confirmed.

‘She does it,’ he said. ‘Until I marry or come of age.’ He broke off and looked at the trees consideringly. ‘It’s a plaguey long time to wait,’ he complained. ‘I’m only seventeen now and I never get enough money. I shall owe the place a thousand times over by the time I get hold of the full income.’

The track we were following took us to the side of the house and Lord Peregrine led the way around the back of a tall-walled garden. ‘Formal garden,’ he said nodding at one section. ‘Kitchen garden,’ he said where the pale greying stone turned to soft red brick. He opened a little gateway into a cobbled stable yard and showed me the loose-box where I could leave Sea. I went in with him and took off his saddle and bridle. Lord Peregrine watched me over the half-door, not offering to help.

‘Why are you dressed like that?’ he asked, as if it had just occurred to him.

I glanced up. The sunlight behind him was glinting on his fair hair so that it gave him a halo around his perfect face. The world of the show and the travelling life and the noise and the hardship was unspeakably distant.

‘I was working before I came here,’ I said briefly. ‘These were my working clothes. I haven’t any new ones yet.’

He nodded and opened the stable door. He leaned towards me confidentially. I could smell the warm hint of brandy on his breath, he had taken a drink in the house while they were packing the picnic.

‘It’s awfully improper,’ he said owlishly. ‘Thought you should know. I don’t mind. Mama won’t mind, because it’s you. But there’s no point in setting other people’s backs up for nothing. Much the best thing to wear girls’ clothes.’

I nodded, ‘I will,’ I said as serious as he.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘Mama.’

He took me in through the stable door across a marble floor patterned with black and white tiles where my boots sounded common and loud and where Lord Peregrine’s footsteps weaved noticeably from the direct path. He led me up a shallow graceful flight of stone steps. I had a confused impression of another floor and a huge arched window making the whole place coldly bright. Then up another flight of stairs, dark noisy wooden ones this time and along a gallery lined with pictures of forbidding ladies and gentlemen who looked down on Lord Peregrine as he tacked from side to side, narrowly missing the occasional armchair and table. Then we went along a carpeted corridor and he tapped on a large double door set in the middle of the wall.

‘Enter,’ said a voice, and Lord Peregrine made a funny face at me, and we went in.

The Dowager Lady Clara was sitting up in a massive fourposter bed, holding a delicate scarlet cup in one hand, swathed in impressive folds of pale blue silk. Her hair was hidden by a blue silken cap, very grand and high with many bows; her face was smooth and pink and smiling, her eyes were as sharp as gimlets.

‘Here she is,’ Lord Peregrine announced. His mother shot one cool look at him and Lord Peregrine swung into a deep bow. ‘Mama, may I present Miss Sarah Lacey of Wideacre Hall? Miss Lacey this is my mama, the Dowager Lady Clara Havering.’

I made a little bow, as if I were in the ring. A curtsey did not suit breeches, and anyway I was too awkward to move.

Lady Havering reached out her hand, heavy with large-stoned rings.

‘You may kiss me, my dear,’ she said. Her voice was lowpitched and strong. ‘I think I must be your aunt. Certainly your nearest relation. Welcome home at last.’

I stepped forward awkwardly and brushed my lips against her cheek. She smelled heavenly, of flowers. I had never smelled such perfume before. Her cheek was cool and dry under my reluctant lips and she let my hand go at once, before I had time to feel uncomfortable.

‘Peregrine, you may go,’ she said. ‘Tell someone to bring a fresh pot of chocolate and two cups. You should go and bathe and change your linen. Miss Lacey will stay here with me, send someone over to Wideacre Hall to tell them where she is.’ She turned her face to me. ‘Will you keep us company for the day, Sarah?’

I flushed. ‘I cannot,’ I said stumbling. ‘I thank you, I should like to, but I cannot. Mr Fortescue will expect me home and there are business affairs to attend to…’

‘Well thank the Lord you are able to attend to them yourself at last!’ she said waspishly. ‘And thank the Lord there are any business affairs left on that estate!’ She smiled at me again. ‘Very well, not today. But within the week you must come to us for the day.’ She gave a rich deep chuckle. ‘I should think you would be glad to escape from that awful Bristol merchant, won’t you, my dear?’

She turned to Lord Peregrine. ‘Go then, dear,’ she said sweetly. ‘You may come back when you have changed.’

Lord Peregrine smiled at me and wavered out through the double door. I turned back to his mother with some trepidation. She was openly staring at me.

‘Tell me then,’ she said invitingly. ‘Where in the world did you spring from? And where have you been all this while?’

I hesitated. Meridon of Gower’s Equestrian Show was dead and gone. I would never bring her back.

‘I was given away to gypsies,’ I said evasively. ‘I had to work for my living. I was travelling with them.’

She nodded. ‘Poor?’ she said. It was hardly a question.

‘Very,’ I replied.

She nodded. ‘But now you are poor no longer,’ she said. ‘Now you are one of the Quality, and wealthy. How do you think you will like it?’

I looked away from her towards her bedroom window. The Hall faced west and I could see some of the Downs away to the left. ‘I shall accustom myself,’ I said steadily.

She laughed, a rich deep throaty chuckle at that. ‘Any dependants?’ she asked and at my shake of the head she pursued her theme: ‘No cousins? Nor aunts? Foster brothers and sisters? No sweethearts? No friends? No young husband? No secret babies?’

‘No one,’ I said.

She looked at me narrowly, looking past my young face, past my old tired eyes, past my clothes, into my heart. ‘Are you a virgin?’ she asked.

I flushed scarlet. ‘Yes,’ I said awkwardly, and when she said nothing but merely raised her beautifully curved eyebrows in surprise, I said: ‘I don’t like being touched.’