They met Lady Ridding walking her dogs in the drive of the Manor. Raymond enjoyed telling his wife about it when he got home. “They’re a blooming anachronism, keeping up traditional style on inherited capital, I suppose,” he said. “Lady R. is about sixty-five, stout, and having the sort of presence which went out with Edward and Alexandra. She was a beauty once, that’s obvious: in fact, she’s still beautiful; silver hair, blue eyes, and a complexion which owes nothing to a box, and she has a manner which compels admiration: as a technique it’s perfect.”
With grace and dignity, Lady Ridding welcomed Dr. Ferens charmingly. “My husband has heard of you from his London consultant”—she smiled—“and we do hope you will decide to come here. Dr. Brown has worked so hard, and I do sympathise with him wanting to get out of harness. Now you’d like to see the Dower House. I’m sure your wife will approve of it, it really is a lovely house in its own way.”
Dr. Brown excused himself, and Raymond Ferens was left alone with what he called “the old-time lovely.” He glanced round as they stood in the wide sweep of drive before the Manor House and said: “It’s a notable group of buildings, all on a plateau as it were.”
“Yes, it looks very beautiful from the moor,” said Lady Ridding. “The Manor, Dower House, and church are all within our walls, and Gramarye seems to lean against us, does it not?—you can see the roofs just beyond the church. They’re all the same period, built between 1590 and 1650.”
“Gramarye?” echoed Ferens. “Oh yes, that’s the children’s home, isn’t it? Brown was telling me about it. An unusual feature in a remote village.”
“Gramarye is unique,” said Lady Ridding. “It is a very ancient foundation, and generations of Riddings have been proud to be its benefactors. We love having the children there, and Sister Monica, who is the Warden, is a genius with children. But you want to see the Dower House. I’m so glad it’s such a beautiful sunny morning, you will see how much sun the house gets.”
Raymond Ferens followed the lady of the manor through the Dower House, his keen modern mind disregarding everything but essentials. How much of this building would be acceptable, practical, and enjoyable for Anne and himself to live in and work in? Lady Ridding’s practised showmanship, her knowledge of panelling and masonry, her expertise on furniture, carpets, and china were matters of indifference to him, though he replied with adequate courtesy and intelligence when she paused in her commentary. Ferens was counting rooms, judging space, making adaptations in his own mind, all the time he was listening to the lady’s informed prattle. Eventually he said:
“Thank you very much indeed for taking so much trouble, Lady Ridding. I think I have grasped the essentials. I’d like a few hours to consider it, and then I will write to you, and you can consider my offer at your leisure. Before I make a decision my wife will have to see the house, of course. She will have the job of running it.”
“Of course,” said Lady Ridding with her sweetest smile. “I’m sure she’ll like it, and do tell her that she can get domestic help in the village and that we can supply so many things from the gardens and home farm. Indeed, we re nearly self-supporting here.”
When Raymond Ferens rejoined Dr. Brown in the latter’s dank dark dining room, Ferens said: “Am I right in supposing that beneath the cloak of graciousness Lady Ridding has an eye to the main chance, as it were?”
Dr. Brown gave a derisive snort. “She is a very shrewd woman and an exceedingly capable one,” he replied. “It’s true that both she and her husband are wealthy, apart from the estate, but it’s Lady Ridding’s ability which makes the home farm a paying proposition, and the gardens and greenhouses yield a good return. I believe they’ve developed a good market, supplying greenhouse produce to the luxury hotels on the north coast, and it’s Lady Ridding who supplied the business head.”
“Well, if she thinks that I and my wife are going to pay a high rent for the privilege of being glorified caretakers in charge of her objets d’art in the Dower House, she’s very much mistaken,” said Ferens. “She wants it both ways, and so far as I’m concerned she can’t have it.”
“Tell her so,” replied Brown. “She won’t respect you any the less when she realises you’ve got a head for business, and I tell you straight she doesn’t want to have to rely on the Milham Prior doctors when she and her family are laid up. They’ve got plenty to do in the Milham Prior practice, and Lady R. was once told she could come to their surgery when she wanted advice on minor ailments.” The old man chuckled. “She didn’t like that one,” he said.
4
Raymond enjoyed telling his wife about his investigation into the moorland practice. “The village is only a small part of the job,” he said. “The outlying farmhouses are scattered all over the moor. There are a few hamlets, clusters of cottages around some farmhouses, and there’s one mining village where tin mining goes on on a small scale, out on the moor. It’s incredibly primitive so far as housing goes, but they look a fine healthy lot of toughs. In addition, there are a few minor gentry around, mostly elderly folks. I think it’ll be quite an experience. The moor provides a few deficiency diseases—enough to make it interesting.”
“And the Dower House?” asked Anne.
Raymond laughed. “It’s a lovely house, Anne, but much too big for us. However, I think I’ve arrived at a formula, if you really want to go there. The house is furnished, just as the last dowager left it, and Lady
