The journey was quite pleasant. All the way from Paddington to Shrewsbury, where they left the express and took a local train to Millfield, the nearest station to Warlington Towers, the lady in whose charge Mame found herself persisted steadily in being charming. Mame could not help liking her. Seen as it were from a distance, Mommer’s stateliness was a little alarming; but at close range, in friendly and intimate talk all fear of it seemed to go.
There were no surprises. Everything went agreeably and well. It was when they got off the train finally at Millfield that the surprises began. There was a five-mile drive to the Towers, as Mame had been told; and she had rather confidently expected it to be performed in an elegant motor, with two servants. But nothing of the kind. In the Millfield station yard a one-horse brougham awaited them. It was decidedly well kept, but it looked out of date; and although the coachman wore a smart cockade and had the face of an ancestral portrait, no brisk footman shared the seat by his side.
An obsequious porter and a rural station master, who was even more obsequious, ushered them into the brougham’s rather stuffy interior. It was plain from the manner of these officials that even if Mommer did cling to the old modes of travel she was a power in this corner of the land. Still Mame continued to be a bit surprised by the one-horse brougham. Yet this was no more than a prelude to the far bigger surprise that was in store.
After the elderly horse had clip-clopped along the dusty by-roads for some little time, Mame caught a sudden glimpse of a noble set of towers “bosomed high in tufted trees” as a poetic john had expressed it in the office calendar. There was also a fine park full of deer with high stone walls around it.
“Warlington Towers, I guess.” There was a thrill in Mame’s voice as she pointed enthusiastically through the carriage window.
Lady Kidderminster said “yes.” The note in her voice sounded the reverse of enthusiastic.
At that moment they came upon some beautiful wrought iron gates with an ancient coat of arms in the middle, flanked by a pair of stone pillars, each with a fabulous winged monster upon the top. Beyond the gates was a porter’s lodge and then a vista of glorious trees in the form of a long avenue which led straight to the doors of the famous mansion.
“It’s just too lovely.” Mame clapped her hands.
She quite expected the one-horse brougham to stop at those magnificent gates, all picked out in black and gold, and turn into that wonderful avenue. But it did nothing of the kind. It went on and on by the side of the high stone walls which shut out the view of the Towers completely.
“Don’t you live there?” Mame was a little puzzled and perhaps a shade anxious.