by Pat Spence
She went to pull a bell rope that hung at the side of the fireplace and, as if by magic, a tall, elegant, dark-skinned woman wearing a royal blue robe appeared with an ornate silver tray, on which were placed a white china teapot, cups, saucers, milk, sugar and a plate of delicious looking biscuits.
“This is Pantera, our house-keeper,” explained Viyesha.
Pantera didn’t say a word. She just stared at me with a look that was so cold and hostile, it completely threw me. Placing the tray on a coffee table in front of the fireplace with barely concealed contempt, and ignoring me totally, she addressed Viyesha. “Will you be requiring anything else?”
“No, thank you, Pantera. That will be all.”
Throwing me a further disdainful look with her black, glittering eyes, Pantera left the room. She moved with an arrogant, slow grace that was both beautiful and mesmerising, and I watched her go with fascination. She was like a sleek, black cat, mesmerising and deadly, and one thing was very clear. She did not like me one bit.
We took tea and, for a while, everything became more ordinary and manageable. Theo’s parents asked me about college, university and career plans. They asked how long I’d lived in the village, about my mother and father and what I wanted to do with my life. I let them take the lead, answering their questions as politely as I could, exactly as Theo had done with my mother and Granddad.
Afterwards, Viyesha suggested that Violet play the piano, which was unexpected, as I’d no idea she was the slightest bit musical.
“Just one piece,” she reluctantly agreed. “Chopin’s Nocturne in E flat?”
“Perfect,” said Viyesha, and for the next few minutes we listened, transfixed, while Violet played exquisitely, her hands moving effortlessly over the keys, filling the room with sublime cadences and trills. When she finished, there was silence for a moment, before we all applauded, Leon calling out, “Bravo, just as Chopin played it.”
“How we imagine Chopin played it,” corrected Viyesha.
“I don’t know about that,” I admitted, remembering my own half-hearted attempts to play piano when I was younger, “but it was beautiful, Violet. You are so talented.”
“Thank you,” she said, grinning. “Just don’t tell anyone at college. I don’t want to get roped in to any end of term productions. Now, I must get on. I have a Philosophy project to finish. ‘Discuss the idea that free will is an illusion’. Mr Harrison, you know? Apparently he’s a stickler for deadlines…”
“Yeah, I’ve heard. Fortunately, not my subject,” I said. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Neither do I,” said Violet, “which is why I must leave you. I’ll see you at college.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow,” I said as she left the room, pleased that we seemed to be friends again.
“Theo, why don’t you give Emily a tour of the hall,” suggested Viyesha. “Show her the renovations.”
“Great idea,” said Theo, grabbing my hand. “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
“And when you’ve done that, I’ll give you a tour of the grounds,” said Joseph, beaming at me.
“Thanks, that’d be great, Joseph,” I beamed back, liking him immensely.
“Have fun,” said Viyesha, “but do remember to stay away from the old servants’ quarters.”
“It’s unsafe up there,” explained Leon. “We have structural work to do. Wouldn’t want you coming to any harm.”
He winked at me, which threw me somewhat. I felt every gesture, every word and every look had a nuance that I couldn’t quite understand, that nothing was quite as it seemed and there was another subtle, underlying agenda that I couldn’t fathom. Theo’s family might be beautiful, but they were also mysterious. Perhaps it was their money or their film star looks that made me feel ill at ease, but I felt instinctively it was something else. Tash was right. Everything was just that little bit too perfect, as if their veneer of perfection was masking something else beneath the surface. I didn’t feel threatened and I didn’t feel frightened, but I knew I must be on my guard.
We toured the ground floor rooms first and I realised I’d never appreciated Hartswell Hall’s vast scale. As I thought, the large room in which we’d taken tea had once been the ballroom and was now designated for conferences. Other rooms led off the main foyer: the old library, a glorious, olde worlde room, furnished in red, with a vast collection of books; the old billiards room, now a private dining area, gloriously finished in blue; and a light airy drawing room, furnished in yellow and cream, with a wonderful old carved fireplace.
An inner courtyard had been transformed into a fabulous dining area by adding a large glass atrium, where exotic plants grew alongside wrought iron sculptures, and the blend of old and new worked perfectly.
There was no denying, Viyesha had impeccable taste. My only concern was the speed with which it had been done. Surely it wasn’t possible to achieve all this in such a short time span? I asked Theo, but he just smiled and said beguilingly, “Once my mother has set her mind to do something, nothing stands in her way.”
After the downstairs tour, Theo led the way up the enormous carved central staircase. I remembered looking through the old rotten window frames as a child, peering in at the dark interior, thinking how scary and dirty it looked, and how one day soon it would start to fall down. Who would ever have thought it could be transformed into this light, luxurious country house hotel?
There were thirty bedrooms in the main house, with further ‘overspill’ rooms in the old stable block. Theo led me to the left of the main stairway, where a galleried landing led to fifteen stunning rooms, each more decadent and luxurious than the last, finished in beautiful fabrics and materials, and providing a level of luxury I’d only seen in magazines.
We explored the rooms one by one, until we arrived at the hall’s piece de resistance, the Bridal Chamber. It was a sumptuous room furnished in pink and red, and I glanced at the imposing four-poster bed, with its deep red brocade eiderdown and fresh white sheets, my colour rising when I thought of future possibilities. I quickly put such thoughts out of my head, realising how little I really knew Theo and how, so far, he’d been the perfect gentleman. As yet, we hadn’t even kissed, just a quick peck on the cheek. That was all. I wasn’t in any hurry for intimacy, things were moving fast enough as it was. But I was concerned how fragile Theo seemed to think I was, as if I would shatter into a million pieces unless he took great care of me.
I’d never met a boy quite so attentive or chivalrous, and sometimes it seemed like we were embarking on an old-fashioned courtship. Certainly this whole ‘meet the parents’ scenario was like something from a bygone era. What had happened to simply hanging out, listening to music and watching DVD’s together? I was pretty inexperienced in all this, but didn’t the ‘meet the parents’ stage happen when things got a more serious? We’d only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks, and that had consisted mainly of holding hands and having lunch together in the college cafeteria. I was baffled by this strange boy and his perfect family.
There again, life had become a whole lot more interesting now he was around and I knew there was no going back. Theo only had to look into my eyes and touch my hand for every sinew of my being to become alive with an intensity I’d never experienced before. Whatever was going on, I was well and truly hooked.
As we left the Bridal Chamber, he turned to me.
“Thanks for coming to meet the family, Emily,” he said quietly. “You have no idea what it means to me.”
I looked up at him, his eyes full of tenderness and love.
“It’s no big deal,” I shrugged. “Just wanted to have a sneaky peek at the hall and see what you’ve been up to…” I grinned at him.
“And did you pick up some good tips on interior design?” he asked, smiling.
“A few. Now I want some tips on gardening.”
He looked at me closely and for a moment, I thought he was about to kiss me. I savoured the anticipation with excitement. At last! But then
the moment was gone and he turned away, saying briskly, “Let’s go and find Joseph and see the gardens before the afternoon sun disappears. There are plenty more rooms, but I guess you’ve seen enough furnishings for one day.”
Just like that, the intimacy was replaced by the commonplace, the tenderness by formality. We were back on neutral ground.
We walked back towards the main stairway, Theo leading the way, passing a narrow flight of stairs I hadn’t noticed earlier. It appeared to lead to the upper floors and looked dark and mysterious, the bannister peeling and chipped, old plasterwork and dust littering the steps. Original gas lamps on the walls were festooned with dusty cobwebs, draped between them like spooky Halloween bunting.
“What’s up here, Theo?” I called, peering up the dark stairway.
He turned abruptly, a flash of anxiety crossing his features. “You can’t go up there, Emily. It’s not safe.”
“It’s okay,” I placated him, surprised at his tone of voice. “I wasn’t about to. I’m guessing this leads to the old servants’ quarters?”
“Yes, it does, but the floorboards are rotten and your foot could go through. There’s nothing to see up there. Just empty rooms.”
“Okay, it’s no big deal,” I laughed, “Let’s go and find Joseph. Lead on McDuff….”
As he turned away, I couldn’t help but take one last look at the creepy old stairway, gazing up the steps into the inky blackness, convinced there was another reason why they were warning me off. A sudden cold draught wafted down the stairs onto my face, as if the house was sighing and I shivered involuntarily, the goose bumps rising on my flesh.
Feeling suddenly afraid, I ran after Theo.
12. Danger in the Gardens
We let ourselves out of the huge oak front door, lifting the massive iron latch and stepping into the courtyard that would soon double as a car parking area. The afternoon was still warm and sunny, giving a sleepy, lazy feel to the grounds and the gravel crunched beneath our feet. As Joseph was nowhere to be seen, we walked round the outside of the hall until we were at the rear, where a swathe of vibrant green grass formed the centrepiece of the formal gardens. We walked up to the ha-ha, a concealed low-lying wall that formed the edge of the gardens and stood admiring the panoramic vista that opened before us. This was English countryside at its best, a patchwork of fields and farmland cascading away in front of our eyes, disappearing into the horizon.
“It’s beautiful, Theo,” I said, mesmerised by the view. “You are so lucky to live here.”
“I know,” he answered, “but it didn’t always look like this. Joseph has worked magic on the grounds.”
I turned to face the rear elevation, thinking how stunning the hall looked since it had been renovated.
“What’s that over there?” I asked, noticing a strange tower positioned to right of the hall. “Come on, Theo, show me.”
Without waiting for him to reply, I ran across the lawn, towards the tower.
“Emily, wait,” called Theo. “I wasn’t going that way. Wait for Joseph.”
But I was ahead of him and took no notice, giving him no choice but to follow.
I ran round the side of the hall and there before me, forming the building’s most easterly point, stood an intriguing hexagonal tower about five stories high, made of honeyed Cotswold stone. It was a true Rapunzel tower, complete with a turret room at the top and a black slate roof that sloped steeply downwards over three decorative gabled windows, giving it a gothic fairy-tale look. On the middle level, three of the six sides featured long, narrow, arched windows, while the alternate sides were each adorned with a beautiful ornate clock, finished in burnished gold. Beneath each clock face, strange symbols had been hewn into the stonework.
Theo caught up with me and grabbed my hand.
“Come on, Emily, let’s find Joseph.”
“No, wait, I want to have a look at this tower,” I remonstrated. “It’s amazing. What are those symbols?”
Before he could answer, there was a noise behind us.
“I see you’ve found our mysterious Clock Tower,” said a voice, making me turn round sharply.
It was Joseph, the sun behind him lighting his tousled blond hair so that it shone like a halo, giving him an almost ethereal look.
“Hi Joseph,” I said with a smile. “This is fantastic. I’ve never seen anything like it. ”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, looking up at the tower. “Quite a tricky renovation project. But I’m pleased with the results.”
“What’s it used for?” I asked, and noticed a glance between Theo and his cousin.
“It’s just decorative, said Theo, dismissively, “an embellishment to the main hall.”
“A typical Victorian extravagance,” explained Joseph. “It has no use, other than looking nice.”
“Can you get in?” I asked, noticing steps leading up to a small wooden door at ground floor level.
“Not via that door,” said Joseph. “The wood’s swollen and jammed into the doorframe. It needs replacing, my next job. There is another way via the old servants’ staircase, but that’s closed off at the moment.”
Yet again, the old servants’ staircase had been mentioned, rousing my curiosity. I was intrigued and longed to explore the upper regions of the house and take a look inside the gothic tower. As a child, I’d always loved exploring old castles and country houses, relishing stories of dungeons, priest holes, murders and ghosts. Now, childhood memories stirred and I felt a compulsion to see inside the tower.
“There’s nothing in there,” said Theo, reading my mind, “just a bare, empty room at the top and another smaller chamber on the floor beneath.”
Once again, I detected a quick glance between them, so brief, I almost missed it. A mere flicker of the eyelids and a slight look askance. But it was there. And it was enough to arouse my suspicions. There was something they weren’t telling me, and I wanted to know what it was.
“Come on,” said Joseph, “I want to show you my new project.”
There was nothing more I could do, so I followed Joseph around the outer wall of Hartswell Hall, Theo walking behind me. Almost like being escorted away, I thought, as if they’re guiding me in a different direction. It was only later that I realised Theo had never answered my question about the strange symbols hewn into the stonework.
“Look, Emily, what do you make of this?” asked Joseph as we came to a small clearing, containing a low circular stone wall, covered in moss, encompassing a circle of grass, with the base of a statue at its centre.
“This was where the old carriages used to turn around, rather like a Victorian roundabout. The statue in the middle was once a fountain. It must have looked amazing with the water cascading down, as horses and carriages drove around it. I’m going to get it all working again. And this pathway here,” he pointed to a small, overgrown path leading into the undergrowth, “is an ancient walk-way to the village church. I’m going to open it up again.”
“It’s all so impressive,” I said, “I can’t believe how much you’ve done.”
“Come and see the rest of the grounds,” said Joseph, excitedly. We followed him around the side of the hall until, once again, we were standing at the front entrance, with the gravel beneath our feet.
For the next half hour, he showed us the gardens, revealing pathways cleared and statues cleaned; the lake dredged and parkland reinstated; floral borders and wonderful topiary shapes created; vistas and terraces reclaimed: and the kitchen gardens, planted with every kind of succulent fresh produce you could imagine.
My gardening knowledge was next to zero and I didn’t know the first thing about trees and plants, but I knew a beautiful garden when I saw it. Hartswell Hall grounds were truly magical. It seemed as if spring had suddenly burst upon the forgotten gardens and Joseph had brought the overgrown grounds back to life, creating order amidst the chaos in an incredibly short amount of time.
“You must have had an army of gardeners to ach
ieve all this, Joseph. Where are they all?” I asked him, puzzled, seeing no staff at all as we walked round the grounds.
“Sunday is their day off,” he explained. “They need to have one day of rest from my tyrannical rule.”
“Why don't you show Emily your Rose Garden?” suggested Theo, and Joseph led us towards an archway, specially created in the neatly clipped privet hedge. As we stepped through, I exclaimed in amazement as a sea of roses met my gaze. There were pinks, reds, yellows, oranges and whites, in every shade imaginable, and the scent was intoxicating.
“Joseph, this is beautiful,” I said, taking in the sight before me.
He took out a pair of secateurs and cut off a stunning red rose. “For you Emily. A red rose. Symbol of youth and beauty.”
“Why, thank you,” I said, blushing at his sudden and unexpected gesture.
“It’s my own hybrid,” he said. “It’s called Eternal Youth.”
I put the rose to my nostrils and inhaled its sweet scent. “It smells divine. Thank you.”
“Have we done now?” asked Theo sharply, and I had to smile at the jealousy in his tone. “It’s time we went back.”
“One more thing,” said Joseph. “I want to show you my secret garden.”
He led us to an old red brick wall, about two and a half metres high, partially hidden by a tangle of ivy climbing its surface. The bits of wall that could be seen revealed weathered, mottled bricks, with discoloured lime mortar coming away in chunks. Joseph pulled back a large piece of overhanging ivy, to reveal a wooden door, decorated with carvings. Joseph took a large, ornate key from his pocket and, with some effort, unlocked the door and pushed it open. We stepped inside to discover a wild, mysterious world waiting to be discovered. Trees, shrubs and bushes competed with one another for space, an overgrown pathway disappeared into the wilderness, and the crumbling stone arches of a forgotten folly rose through the confusion of greenery.
“I’ve only just found the key,” explained Joseph, “that’s why nothing’s been done here yet.”
