Chapter 13 #2
‘Right, we’re just about here.’ Theo smiled across at me and my pulse raced.
He was beautiful. I don’t think I’d ever thought of a man being beautiful before – handsome I suppose was the usual adjective – but I can say Theo Mandeville was alluring in a way I’d never before experienced in a man.
The country lanes had immediately morphed into even narrower ones, and I gazed at my surroundings in some awe.
‘Wow, this is so heavenly!’ I was genuinely taken aback by the North Yorkshire scenery and, while the surrounding countryside where I lived was equally lovely, the whole rolling, sweeping landscape up here felt to have taken a deep breath, awakening fully, eager to show off its full credentials to visitors.
The vivid, meandering fields to our right were almost luminous with green, broken up by neat lines of dry-stone walls as well as dots of white sheep, while the bleating of new lambs hung in, and carried through, the warm air.
Buttercups, frothy cow parsley, and the first flush of something pink which I couldn’t name decorated every hedge and verge, while cottage gardens were flush with magnificent arrays of coloured tulips – a child’s paintbox opened, its contents haphazardly spilled.
We drove on through several villages, past ancient, grey-stoned churches and even a maypole on the green.
Theo turned left, over an old packhorse bridge and past low chocolate-box stone cottages whose climbing roses and wisteria were just beginning to bloom.
So intent was I at taking in the passing countryside, I didn’t realise we’d veered off the lane and were now driving along a tree-lined gravelled road leading to a white-stoned house.
No, not a house, this could only be described as a bloody great hall.
Well, of course, it was, wasn’t it? But when I’d proudly shown off Cannon Hall to Theo, I’d never imagined for one minute he’d go one bigger and better to trump my boast.
‘Goodness, it’s a bit big.’
‘Well, half of it’s been given over to the National Trust,’ Theo said. ‘Been in the family for years and years. Bit of a white elephant to be honest.’
‘And are you the eldest son? You never did tell me much about your family the other day. I mean, are you expected to inherit…?’ I trailed off. Was that a rude question, like asking someone how much they earned?
‘Hmm.’ Theo nodded. ‘I’m the eldest son – the only son. I’ve three older sisters, Vivienne, Araminta and Georgina, and, just as my dad was despairing of ever getting a son to pass on the baton as it were, I came along. And then there’s Mary.’
‘Mary?’
‘She’s my eight-year-old sister.’
‘You have an eight-year-old sister?’
‘I do. And yes, in answer to your question, I am expected to take on the estate in turn. It’s what we do.’
‘Right.’
We parked the car and Theo took my case and dress bag before setting off walking towards a side entrance.
‘So,’ I said, ‘when I took you to Cannon Hall the other week, why didn’t you tell me then you had one bigger, grander and more beautiful in your own back yard?’
Theo stopped suddenly and I almost bumped into him. He put down my case, turned and cupping my face, kissed my open mouth. Just the once. ‘Because,’ he said, ‘I thought you might not come with me.’
‘Dad, this is Anna. She’s my guest for the evening.
’ Theo patted the arm of a man – whom I’d presumed to be one of the gardeners – as he clipped some sort of flowering foliage by a huge open oak door I could see led into the main entrance hall.
He jumped slightly, removed the Walkman earphones and put down the shears as Theo repeated the introduction.
This was Theo’s father? The lord of the manor? I don’t know what I’d been expecting but it certainly wasn’t this tall fair-haired man listening to the Stones as he gardened. He was an older version of Theo. He moved a hand through his hair before extending it in my direction.
‘Good to meet you, Anna,’ he said jovially, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
‘Hope you enjoy yourself this evening. I always look forward to this annual May do, even though it is my own party.’ He turned to Theo.
‘Your mother insisted I trim her bush before the guests arrive.’ Lord Mandeville laughed uproariously and I felt myself blush at his double entendre, not daring to look at Theo, who simply frowned in what I assumed was embarrassment.
‘Your mother’s around somewhere, titivating up both the place and herself.
’ Theo’s father reached for the glass of wine sitting on one of the steps, downing what remained in one long drink.
‘Right, Theo, take your friend – Anna, is it? – over to the guest wing. We’ve so many people staying over, you’ll have to ask Maureen where she’s putting her. ’
Theo nodded briefly in his father’s direction, and we walked in silence round to the back of the hall. ‘Tradesman’s entrance these days.’ He smiled. ‘As I said, the main part of the house has been handed over to the National Trust.’
‘So don’t your parents have anything to do with running the place now?’ I asked.
‘Only in an advisory capacity. And, of course, there’s all the estate to run – the hunt, the stables and the shoot in August – and the farms and woodlands to be managed.’
‘Farms? As in plural?’
‘Yes, they’re run, as they always have been, by tenant farmers.’
‘Right.’
‘Oh, Maureen…’ Theo caught the attention of a tiny woman sailing through an open adjacent door as we made our way into a huge kitchen. She turned at Theo’s voice, a mop of grey permed hair all that was visible over a tottering pile of white sheets and towels.
‘Oh, Mr Theodore?’ came a muffled reply, before the laundry turned to face us.
Mr Theodore? Had I wandered into a Dickens novel?
‘For heaven’s sake, Maureen!’ Theo laughed. ‘Come here.’ He moved over to the woman, taking most of the pile from her arms. ‘Where do you want these?’
‘West wing – guest suite, please.’ Maureen tutted. ‘More people staying over than your mother admitted to.’ She tutted again. ‘As usual,’ she added in an undertone.
‘She did tell you Anna was staying?’
‘Anna?’ Maureen frowned and I smiled winningly at her, putting up a hand, to show ownership of my name.
‘Hang on.’ Maureen placed the remaining sheets on the enormous, scrubbed pine kitchen table before scrabbling in her pocket for a piece of paper and pencil.
‘There’s no Anna on here.’ She almost sniffed the words. ‘There’s a Susannah…’
‘Oh, right. OK.’ Theo didn’t look in my direction. ‘Susannah’s unable to make it. I did tell Mum. Anna can have her room.’
Embarrassed, I trotted after the two of them as we made our way along gloomy corridors, glassy-eyed stuffed stags’ heads looking down on us as we walked.
More corridors, with rooms going off on either side, up a dark-blue carpeted staircase and up once more to what I assumed was the guest suite on the west wing.
Susannah? So, I wasn’t Theo’s first choice then?
I suddenly wanted to be at home with Mum and Dad, helping with the strike action down at The Alamo or, at least, up on the allotment, planting out the courgettes and picking the first spring onions and radishes.
I bit my lip and followed the pair of them down the long corridor.