rotunda—to be in keeping with the house, you know. And it’s to stand on that little knoll in the center. So pleasant for walks, and the field isn’t used for anything anyway. The workmen will soon be finished.”
“They are finished,” said Lord Gerald, standing over Ginny in a threatening manner. “I told them all to pack up and go home.”
Ginny put down her fountain pen and stared at him in amazement. “You shouldn’t have done that, you know,” she said quietly. “These are men from the village who are glad to have the work. You know, so much better for the morale than just giving it to them or taking them bowls of soup and jellies and things, which aren’t really sustaining—”
“That, dear girl, is
my
land,” broke in Lord Gerald wrathfully. “If you wish to keep the villagers employed, then I suggest you take some of your own land and hand it over.”
“It’s not your land,” said Ginny, opening her eyes wide in a truly infuriating way.
“It is!”
“Isn’t!”
“Is!”
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” said Ginny. “Come into the estate office and I shall show you the plans of the estate.”
“I know which is my land and which is not, dear girl,” said Lord Gerald, resisting an impulse to shake her. “That land has been in my family for centuries, but then I would not expect anyone of your background to know about the importance of land.”
“Now, why not, I wonder?” said Ginny mildly, getting up and walking around his wrathful figure. She led the way from the room, and with some hesitation he followed her through the back of the house and into a dark little office. Ginny lit the gas with a little sigh.
“Do you know,” she said, seemingly unaware of Lord Gerald’s bad temper, “that Mr. Frayne only had gas laid on just before he died? He should have kept to lamps and candles, which would have been much more romantic, or on the other hand had electricity installed. Gas is so… well,
between
things.”
“I have gas,” said Lord Gerald stiffly.
“Oh, I know, I’ve seen the smelly things,” said Ginny vaguely. “Gas chandeliers, I mean. Always hissing and popping and downright dangerous, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” said Gerald rudely.
“No more you did,” said Ginny with unruffled calm. “Ah, here we are. Nepp’s Field, did you say? There we are. You
do
own a foot or two on the far side but
not
the little knoll where the rotunda is being built. I shall now have to send down to the village to get the men back.”
“I am sorry,” said Lord Gerald, reluctantly turning the ancient map this way and that. “But do consider. That is good grazing land and I am certainly sure that my family used it for sheep grazing.”
“Really,” said Ginny politely. “Believe me, there has been nothing with four legs near it since the day I arrived. Oh, why must you always try to save face. Come and see my rotunda. Look! The rain’s stopped and the sun is beginning to shine.”
Lord Gerald obscurely felt that there was something very
low class
about building new things on an old estate, but he knew he had behaved badly. He should have checked his own maps first.
“Very well, then,” he said with a reluctant grin. “But don’t expect me to like it!”
Ginny went upstairs to take off her pinafore and put on a smart morning dress of pale-blue taffeta. It had a saucy line of bows running from neck to hem, with creamy lace edging the high collar and the narrow cuffs. She chose a wide-brimmed hat of the same material, ornamented with a whole garden of roses on the crown. White gloves and a white lace parasol completed the ensemble. The maid, Masters, had found another position, not being able to face the other servants after the unveiling of her lowly origins, and Ginny had not yet replaced her.
Lord Gerald watched her descending the staircase with an ironic twitch to his lips. She looked exactly like a doll, he thought. And then she smiled at him, and he was forced to
“They are finished,” said Lord Gerald, standing over Ginny in a threatening manner. “I told them all to pack up and go home.”
Ginny put down her fountain pen and stared at him in amazement. “You shouldn’t have done that, you know,” she said quietly. “These are men from the village who are glad to have the work. You know, so much better for the morale than just giving it to them or taking them bowls of soup and jellies and things, which aren’t really sustaining—”
“That, dear girl, is
my
land,” broke in Lord Gerald wrathfully. “If you wish to keep the villagers employed, then I suggest you take some of your own land and hand it over.”
“It’s not your land,” said Ginny, opening her eyes wide in a truly infuriating way.
“It is!”
“Isn’t!”
“Is!”
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” said Ginny. “Come into the estate office and I shall show you the plans of the estate.”
“I know which is my land and which is not, dear girl,” said Lord Gerald, resisting an impulse to shake her. “That land has been in my family for centuries, but then I would not expect anyone of your background to know about the importance of land.”
“Now, why not, I wonder?” said Ginny mildly, getting up and walking around his wrathful figure. She led the way from the room, and with some hesitation he followed her through the back of the house and into a dark little office. Ginny lit the gas with a little sigh.
“Do you know,” she said, seemingly unaware of Lord Gerald’s bad temper, “that Mr. Frayne only had gas laid on just before he died? He should have kept to lamps and candles, which would have been much more romantic, or on the other hand had electricity installed. Gas is so… well,
between
things.”
“I have gas,” said Lord Gerald stiffly.
“Oh, I know, I’ve seen the smelly things,” said Ginny vaguely. “Gas chandeliers, I mean. Always hissing and popping and downright dangerous, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” said Gerald rudely.
“No more you did,” said Ginny with unruffled calm. “Ah, here we are. Nepp’s Field, did you say? There we are. You
do
own a foot or two on the far side but
not
the little knoll where the rotunda is being built. I shall now have to send down to the village to get the men back.”
“I am sorry,” said Lord Gerald, reluctantly turning the ancient map this way and that. “But do consider. That is good grazing land and I am certainly sure that my family used it for sheep grazing.”
“Really,” said Ginny politely. “Believe me, there has been nothing with four legs near it since the day I arrived. Oh, why must you always try to save face. Come and see my rotunda. Look! The rain’s stopped and the sun is beginning to shine.”
Lord Gerald obscurely felt that there was something very
low class
about building new things on an old estate, but he knew he had behaved badly. He should have checked his own maps first.
“Very well, then,” he said with a reluctant grin. “But don’t expect me to like it!”
Ginny went upstairs to take off her pinafore and put on a smart morning dress of pale-blue taffeta. It had a saucy line of bows running from neck to hem, with creamy lace edging the high collar and the narrow cuffs. She chose a wide-brimmed hat of the same material, ornamented with a whole garden of roses on the crown. White gloves and a white lace parasol completed the ensemble. The maid, Masters, had found another position, not being able to face the other servants after the unveiling of her lowly origins, and Ginny had not yet replaced her.
Lord Gerald watched her descending the staircase with an ironic twitch to his lips. She looked exactly like a doll, he thought. And then she smiled at him, and he was forced to
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