The Hemingford Scandal. Mary Nichols

of the house. The main door, a vast oak affair that looked as though it might withstand a battering ram, faced the bridge over which they had entered; here were half a dozen servants standing in line. Their host offered each lady an arm and led them forward and proceeded to name all the servants and their duties. It made Jane think of a bride being introduced to her new domain and realised with dismay that was how Donald meant her to feel.

      ‘You must be hungry,’ he said as they entered the hall, which had a wide carved staircase right in front of them and a corridor leading off on either side. ‘Martha will show you up to your rooms and help your maid unpack. There is hot water and everything you need to refresh yourselves, but if there is anything I have failed to provide, please tell me so and I will remedy the deficiency at once. It is my dearest wish that you should feel at home.’ He handed them over to his housekeeper, who conducted them up the stairs to the rooms that had been allotted to them. ‘When you are ready, we will have dinner.’

      ‘He is determined to please,’ Aunt Lane said, when they were alone in Jane’s room. It was furnished with heavy oak furniture, including a four-poster bed. The sheets and bed coverings were new and everywhere gleamed with polish. ‘I cannot fault the arrangements.’

      They dined in country style. Aunt Lane had no criticism of his table or his manners, and afterwards Donald showed them all over the house, which was more ancient than Jane had expected. All its furniture was old and heavy, but it perfectly suited the house and everywhere gleamed with polish. ‘My father bought the property with a wind-fall he had from dealings on the ’Change,’ he told them. ‘And the furniture came with it.’

      ‘I had thought it was the old family home,’ Aunt Lane said. ‘You are related to Viscount Denderfield, are you not?’

      He seemed a little disconcerted by the question, but quickly recovered. ‘The relationship is a distant one,’ he said. ‘As I understand it, a hundred and seventy years ago the family became divided, two brothers fought on different sides in the war between king and parliament and neither branch has acknowledged the other since. My father always hoped for a reconciliation, but it was not to be—’ He broke off, noticing that Jane had set her foot on the stairs to the tower. ‘Miss Hemingford, I beg you not to go up there, it is unsafe. If you would like to see the view, I will conduct you there myself, but shall we leave it until tomorrow? It is growing dusk now and you will not be able to see much.’

      This was obviously sensible and they returned to the drawing room on the ground floor and settled down to conversation over the tea cups, during which they discussed how he planned to entertain them in the following two weeks. At ten o’clock more refreshment was brought in and soon after that they retired to bed. ‘Country hours,’ her aunt commented as they made their way, candles in hand, to their rooms. ‘I think I shall read in my room; if I go to bed now, I shall be awake at dawn.’

      That suited Jane, who had asked if she might borrow a mount and ride out before breakfast.

      She was awake at six and downstairs clad in her new habit by seven. Donald was waiting for her, dressed for riding. ‘Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?’

      ‘Like a log,’ she said, not quite truthfully because she had had a lot to think about and the silence after London was as disturbing as the noise of night-time traffic passing along Duke Street, but the country air had won in the end. ‘I am looking forward to my ride.’

      He led her to a stable block, almost as pristine as the house, where two horses were already saddled for them. Five minutes later they were trotting across the bridge. If it occurred to Jane that she ought to have had a chaperon, she dismissed it. They were in the country and in the country there was no danger, either from ruffians or from the man who rode beside her.

      The early morning air was clear and heady as wine and Donald was a perfect escort, pointing places out to her, stopping to comment on the wayside flowers, giving her their Latin names, talking about the farm, not in a condescending way, but as if he knew she would be interested. Which she was. And when they returned to the house he fulfilled his promise to take her to see the view from the north tower, conducting her up the narrow stair to a small room at the top.

      She crossed the room to look out of the window over rolling countryside. ‘Why, I do believe I can see the sea,’ she said, catching sight of sparkling water. ‘How far away is it?’

      ‘Five or six miles as the crow flies,’ he said. ‘But it is The Wash, not the open sea.’

      ‘And there is a ship out there, I can see its sails.’

      He picked up a telescope from the table and trained it out to sea. ‘It is early,’ he murmured.

      ‘Early?’

      ‘It is a cargo ship. I have an interest in the freight it carries.’

      ‘Oh, do let me see.’

      He handed her the telescope and she trained it on the vessel. It looked small at that distance, its sails bowed out as it used the wind to sail westwards. ‘Where will it put in?’

      ‘King’s Lynn. I expect it will dock tomorrow.’

      ‘Shall you go to meet it?’

      ‘Yes. Would you like to come?’

      ‘Yes, if Aunt Lane agrees.’

      The outing was a pleasant carriage ride and Jane enjoyed the sights and sounds of the busy port. There were hundreds of vessels, fishing boats, lighters and cargo boats in the harbour and seafaring men and dock workers scurried about their business. ‘They export all manner of produce,’ Mr Allworthy explained. ‘Corn and wool principally, but also manufactured goods. And they import things like wine and tea.’ He paused as one of the dockers came towards the carriage, obviously intent on speaking to him. ‘Would you and your aunt care to wait in the carriage while I do my business? It will not take many minutes and then I shall be free to show you round.’

      He left them and they watched as he had an animated conversation with the man, before leaving him to go aboard a vessel on whose side Jane noticed the name, Fair Trader. A few minutes later he rejoined them. ‘All very satisfactory,’ he said, smiling easily. ‘Now, shall we take a stroll?’

      He helped them from the carriage and offered an arm to each lady and they walked towards the town. The streets were narrow but well paved and there were a good number of shops and hotels. From the London road they turned on to an avenue lined with lime and chestnut trees and continued to the inner bank of the ancient town walls. Here they rested on a seat in the shade before returning to the carriage and the ride back to Coprise Manor. Mr Allworthy was a perfect guide and host and Jane’s anxieties faded to nothing. London seemed a long, long way away.