“Bah!” exclaimed Mrs. Corbett, “she’s out of her place altogether. She ought to have married an evangelical curate.”
“Not up to form, eh?” suggested her ladyship, then muttered, “and anyway, you intend to ride her off the course,” and with this prudently suppressed opinion, she led the way out of the station.
CHAPTER XIV
ON arrival in London the newly married couple established themselves at Claridge’s; Blagdon accompanied his wife to the Opera and to Hurlingham, gave smart dinners, and introduced her to his friends; many of his mother’s connections called upon her, and prepared to entertain them; but the bride suddenly became indisposed, was confined to her room, and totally unpresentable. The unfortunate victim had been seized upon by that contemptible ailment known as the mumps.
At last Mr. and Mrs. Blagdon appeared at Sharsley, and met with a flattering reception. There were speeches, a deputation, arches in the village, and a troop of the local yeomanry escorted them from the station. Sharsley Court, the ancestral home of the Scropes (who with various family vicissitudes had lived there since the reign of Henry VIII), was a noble Tudor mansion, wisely enlarged by various owners, who were proud of its fame. Sharsley village lay just outside its beautiful old iron gates; the ancient, irregular houses collected at either side of a wide street, or square, were of rusty red brick, or black and white. A venerable inn, furnished with wonderful treasures, attracted no attention,—as the curio-collecting age had not yet dawned, and many valuable bits to be found in the village and neighbourhood were not merely neglected, but actually despised. At the opposite end, facing the gates of the Court, stood the church, a late Norman, and near it, sheltered by giant elm trees, was a fine old Jacobean Rectory.
Sharsley was four miles from a market town, seven from a railway, and in those pre-motor days, a good deal isolated and out of touch with the busy roaring world. The Court itself had been built, as was the fashion in old times, within a few hundred yards from the entrance,—similar to Hatfield and Harwicke,—instead of being situated in the midst of a vast park; but the park existed, stretching far away on three sides, and surrounded by a high wall.
Here and there this wall was broken by a space filled in with iron railings, in order to give the residents a more extended prospect, and envious passers-by could, if they so pleased, from some of these openings, enjoy an uninterrupted view of the mansion, with its great terraced front. Later on, many wayfarers would pause to stare at a small, solitary figure slowly pacing to and fro, to and fro, to and fro, for all the world like a wild thing in a cage. It was the young wife.
But we are travelling too fast; the young wife has barely crossed the threshold of her new home. To her, it looked almost formidable, so cold and forbidding, the great suite of reception rooms, the palatial staircase, the circle of silent, impassive servants, all struck terror into her youthful heart.