around the truth. People die, they don’t get lost and they don’t pass anywhere either!”
Maisie raised her eyebrows. “I understand that Nick was close to him when he died.”
“Nick was wounded shortly after Godfrey died. I received the telegram informing me that I was a widow, then looked after my brother as soon as he was brought home. Kept me busy. No time to think about it, you know. You have to get on and look after the living, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Maisie nodded, choosing her words with care. “Nolly, did you appprove of Nick?”
The woman sighed, looking at cobblestones underfoot as they came back into the stable yard. “What did it matter whether I approved or disapproved? This family does what it wants when it wants, without thinking of anyone else. And if they don’t let me go ahead with plans for the estate, we’ll all be at the doors of the poorhouse!” She paused. “Of course, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I’m the only one with any sense of the money it takes to run the place or how to deal with the tenant farmers—Godfrey was a sort of de facto manager after we got married and before he went over to France and we ran things together. Now I want to draw people in, you know, visitors. And visitors would never come if two of the Bassington-Hopes—make that three, if Harry has his way— manage to rub people up the wrong way all the time. So, did I approve? No, I didn’t. They tried to change things that you just can’t change.” She looked directly at Maisie. “Did Nick and Georgie really think they could stop a war with their pictures and words? Bloody stupid if you ask me. Frankly, someone should have stopped
The women removed boots and coats, and before entering the main part of the house, Nolly looked out of the window to cast judgment on the weather.
“Well, Maisie, I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere but a guest room tonight. From here I can see that the avenue down to the main road is barely passable now. In fact, you should bring your motor around to the stable yard and get it under cover.”
“But I must—”
“Please don’t argue. We never allow guests to leave impaired by wine or weather. Now at least Piers can impress you with his 1929 elderflower!”
“NOLLY’S ABSOLUTELY RIGHT, you simply cannot expect to drive as far as Chelstone in this weather—it’s probably even worse over toward Tonbridge anyway. No, you must stay, mustn’t she, Emsy, Piers?” Georgina looked at her mother and father while her sister poured glasses of sherry from the tray just brought into the room by Mrs. Gower.
Maisie acquiesced. “Thank you for your hospitality. I do have to ask a favor, though—I’ve left my bag at my father’s house and I should really telephone him so that he won’t worry about me.”
“Of course, my dear. Nolly, do show Maisie the telephone. Let’s just hope the lines aren’t down, you never know. The good news is that, according to Jenkins, who came to the door just after you left, this little lot should clear with ease tomorrow morning. He said—his words—that it was the light fluffy stuff, not the hard stuff, so he’ll be over with Jack and Ben to clear the avenue first thing.”
“Not the tractor?”
“No, the horses.”
“That silly man!” Nolly cursed as she led Maisie to the telephone in the entrance hall.
Having assured her father that she was safe with friends, Maisie moved the MG to a spare stall in the stable block. Originally built to house fifteen horses, the stables were now home to four hunters, with other stalls kept for storage and for horses belonging to the paying guests welcomed by Nolly Grant. Returning to the house, she was shown to a guest room by Georgina.
“Good, the fire’s been lit, and Mrs. Gower has laid out fresh towels for you. Here, let me show you, there’s a bathroom next door. It’s a bit old, you could do a lap or two in the bathtub. I’ll bring along some nightclothes for you, and a dress for dinner, though it may be a bit big. Nolly likes to keep up appearances and as much as she annoys me, she’s stuck down here, so I just go along with it. We never did that sort of thing when we were growing up, so she was always embarrassed to bring friends home. Shame really.” Georgina smiled, waving as she left the room. “Drinks in about half an hour, then we’ll have dinner. I think it’s roast duck this evening.”
Maisie looked around the room. The wooden paneling must have once been dark brown, varnished then waxed to a glorious shine. Now it was painted in different colors, a checkerboard of green and yellow with a blue border. In each yellow square, someone had painted a geometric interpretation of a butterfly, a moth or a bee on the flower. Above the blue picture rail, a golden spider’s web ran up to and across the ceiling, with the center of the web at exactly the point at which the light fixture had been added.
“Caught in the Bassington-Hope web!” Maisie smiled to herself as she contemplated the serendipitous assignment of guest room. She walked through to the bathroom, which was mercifully plain, she thought, painted in white, with white tiles surrounding the ancient claw-footed bath and covering the floor. A dark oak chair was situated in one corner and a matching towel rail in another. As she leaned over to turn on the taps, however, she noticed that both pieces of furniture had likely been made to match the room, for the chair had a butterfly carved as if it had just landed on the back, and the towel rail bore a wooden spider climbing along one side. Returning to the bedroom, a closer inspection of the counterpane revealed a patchwork design of garden insects, with needlepoint cushions on the window seat crafted to match. As the bath filled with piping-hot water, Maisie turned to see a poem painted on the back of the door. It was a simple verse, a child’s poem. No doubt the room was the work of Georgina and Nick together, the furniture had been made by Piers, with the counterpane and cushions designed by Emma. Was every room in this house an exhibition of the Bassington-Hopes’ artistry? And if so, how did Nolly feel about being excluded from the hive of activity, for thus far Maisie had seen no evidence of her involvement.
Maisie found Piers to be most solicitous toward his wife and daughters, formally crooking his left elbow for Emma to rest her hand and be escorted into the dining room, then stepping aside for his daughters and Maisie to enter first. He led Emma to one end of the table, made sure she was comfortable, then waited for the women to be seated before taking his place opposite his wife. Emma was wearing a deep-red velvet gown with a black shawl around her shoulders. Her gray hair had been brushed back, but remained loose, neither braided nor coiled.
“Now you’ll be treated to Daddy’s wines!” Georgina reached for her table-napkin, then turned to Piers. “What are we having this evening to grace the duck, Daddy?”
Piers smiled. “Last year’s damson.”
“Fruity with an oakish balance,” added Georgina.
“Utter tosh!” Nolly reached for her glass, as Gower, now dressed in formal attire, served a rich blood-red wine from a crystal decanter. “Not the wine, of course, Daddy, but Georgina’s description, as usual trimmed with lace!”
