At the far end lay the principal castle building but the oasis before it stole one’s breath.
A formal Tudor Garden of herbs and hollyhocks decorated the left, a riot of colour and scent that even on this dreary day could not be subdued. And to the right stood verdant six-foot beech hedges as though from a Brothers Grimm fairy tale come to life.
“That’s just the maze,” explained Garvey as though every garden had one, and they both blinked in wonder before following him up the stone path which divided the two areas of this original bailey. “There’s also an enclosed walkway there to reach the stables, accessed through the Great Hall should the weather be inclement.”
Briefly, they paused to admire the stronghold before them. “It’s beautiful,” Hebe whispered.
It soared indomitable and proud, its creamy colour not dulled in the slightest by the leaden cloud, and carved above the studded arched door was a sundial with bronzed gnomon, unable to proclaim the hour as though time had ceased to be important.
A twin-turreted portal jutted from the frontage, two-storeyed wings to either side with perfectly aligned mullioned windows reflecting the skies. Further turrets stood at each corner, flags fluttering atop.
Hebe tipped her head back to survey the high-up arrow slits which betrayed this building’s benign façade, and above those, crenelated tops brooded with menace.
The butler smiled at their gawps; now he’d lost the redness to his cheeks, she could see he was fairly young – mid-thirties or thereabouts – with kind eyes. “Lord Ernest will be able to tell you more, but far back ’twere an abbey, then a royal garrison, but extensively rebuilt in Tudor times. It’s listed in the Domesday book, although there’s nothing left of the abbey nowadays except some ghostly monks and the Grey Lady.”
“Grey Lady?”
“Do not fear, she never strays from the West Tower.”
Gosh.
“Well, it’s all breath-taking. And Lord Ernest himself… Where does he…” Hebe’s eyes flickered over the many windows. “Which floor is he…”
“His lordship resides in the detached Ladies Tower, madam.”
Wouldn’t he just.
“Why then,” she said brightly, “we shall hardly see him.”
Garvey puckered his lips. “Er… ’Tis behind you.” He pointed to a… Well, a two-storey, rectangular Tower immediately to the right. “It has a tunnel which leads to the main house where Lord Ernest takes his repast each day in the smaller dining room.”
Hebe winced. “I see. I’m led to believe there are three dining rooms. Are the others often used?”
“Well, madam. The larger sits a hundred and twenty and the third is the Banqueting Hall which sits over three hundred, so not often.”
Grimacing, Hebe swivelled to her aunt, expecting a smug grin, but instead she was still staring back at the stables.
“I’ll ring for the housekeeper and footman,” excused the butler. “Would you like to wait inside?”
“We’ll stay here, thank you, Garvey. After travelling so long in the coach, we might stroll a moment to stretch our legs.”
He bowed and turned towards the impressive oak door.
“Have you ever seen anything so wonderful, Aunt?”
“No, indeed, dear.”
“And was that a pink unicorn peeking from the upper parapet.”
“That’s nice, dear,” said Aunt, twisting her necklace with a frown.
“What’s wrong?”
“I…” She bit her lip. Appeared sad. An expression that Hebe had never, not once, witnessed upon her aunt’s unlined features.
“Are you well, Aunt?” Hebe reached out a hand.
“Yes… No.” She blinked. “I might as well tell you now as you may possibly notice some distraction from me.” Aunt Beatrice inhaled as though garnering all courage. “Hebe, we’ve never talked of this but… You must have heard gossip of my scandalous youthful…indiscretion.”
