Slack.”
Slack would gladly have helped him chop off a head, such a state of infatuation had she achieved, but her blank stare told me that she was not in league with him on this mysterious matter, at least.
"The fact is, I hope to set up a small museum,” he said, in the tone of an announcement. “Eastbourne has one, and Pevensey could do with one, too. It is really a shame that so few know about or care about our Roman heritage.”
“This is a strange thing to feel you must confess,” I told him. “There can be no harm in opening a museum.”
“Ah, but the museum I have in mind is Seaview. It is particularly appropriate."
“It happens to be occupied!” I pointed out sharply. “And its appropriateness I must say escapes me, that being the case, unless you feel Miss Slack and I are ancient enough to be displayed as antiques."
“Shall we go back to the Yellow Saloon and sit down?” he suggested in an attempt to turn aside my wrath. He thought I would be too civil to argue over the teacups, a view in which he was mistaken.
He raised an eyebrow at a servant who passed us in the hall, which was a command to bring tea. A silver tray that required a very stout man to carry it was soon placed on the tea table.
“Would you be kind enough to pour, Miss Denver?” he asked. I lifted, with some trouble, the large silver pot and poured into fine Wedgwood cups. Dainty sandwiches had been made, and they were delicious. A tempting variety of sweets were also laid out on a tiered dish. It was an excellent tea.
I was not turned from my track by it, however. “You were saying you may consider my home particularly suitable for your museum. Would you be kind enough to explain that rather strange statement, Your Grace?”
“Oh, dear!” he said, and set down his cup. It sounded an absurdly mild phrase to issue from that swarthy face. “I always feel, you know, when young ladies go on calling me 'Your Grace’ that I have offended them. But there is justice in selecting Seaview as the site of the museum. I do not consider it peculiarly my own, the museum. I intend endowing it, but giving it to the town.”
“I don’t know about justice, but there is surely some injustice in cashiering a private dwelling for such a purpose.”
“No injustice is intended. You recall we spoke of thirty-five hundred pounds.”
“No, Your Grace, I recall you spoke of thirty-five hundred pounds. I recall as well you had an invalid aunt on whose behalf you sought the place. Tell me, has there been a sudden death in your family, or has she recovered from her serious lung trouble without benefit of our local gales?”
“I had hoped to appeal to your tender compassion for an elderly invalid. Finding such an emotion lacking, I revert to business instead. There is an invalid aunt, incidentally. I had thought I might put my Aunt Eileen there till I had the museum plans settled, hoping a year by the sea might do her good. But you give me no opportunity to explain my mentioning justice. Seaview is built on the remains of a Roman fort, of course."
“A Roman fort? I heard nothing of that!” I exclaimed.
“Did you not? But surely you mentioned to me haying been in the cellars the other day. You must have seen the stone wall.”
“Stone wall? Certainly I saw stone walls, one vastly superior to the others..."
“The wall below the rattling grate is the remains of one of the old Roman forts. I blush to confess my great-grandfather had the unwisdom to build over it. The desecration that has been done to the Roman ruins is really appalling. The fort was one of the chain that formed the fortification known as the Forts of the Saxon Shore. From Richborough to Portsmouth, to guard against invasion. Porchester Castle is another of them. They were right on the shore in those days, but the sea has receded, and some of them are quite far inland now. This one is closer to the sea than most.”
“I noticed that wall was finer than the others. But you
Slack would gladly have helped him chop off a head, such a state of infatuation had she achieved, but her blank stare told me that she was not in league with him on this mysterious matter, at least.
"The fact is, I hope to set up a small museum,” he said, in the tone of an announcement. “Eastbourne has one, and Pevensey could do with one, too. It is really a shame that so few know about or care about our Roman heritage.”
“This is a strange thing to feel you must confess,” I told him. “There can be no harm in opening a museum.”
“Ah, but the museum I have in mind is Seaview. It is particularly appropriate."
“It happens to be occupied!” I pointed out sharply. “And its appropriateness I must say escapes me, that being the case, unless you feel Miss Slack and I are ancient enough to be displayed as antiques."
“Shall we go back to the Yellow Saloon and sit down?” he suggested in an attempt to turn aside my wrath. He thought I would be too civil to argue over the teacups, a view in which he was mistaken.
He raised an eyebrow at a servant who passed us in the hall, which was a command to bring tea. A silver tray that required a very stout man to carry it was soon placed on the tea table.
“Would you be kind enough to pour, Miss Denver?” he asked. I lifted, with some trouble, the large silver pot and poured into fine Wedgwood cups. Dainty sandwiches had been made, and they were delicious. A tempting variety of sweets were also laid out on a tiered dish. It was an excellent tea.
I was not turned from my track by it, however. “You were saying you may consider my home particularly suitable for your museum. Would you be kind enough to explain that rather strange statement, Your Grace?”
“Oh, dear!” he said, and set down his cup. It sounded an absurdly mild phrase to issue from that swarthy face. “I always feel, you know, when young ladies go on calling me 'Your Grace’ that I have offended them. But there is justice in selecting Seaview as the site of the museum. I do not consider it peculiarly my own, the museum. I intend endowing it, but giving it to the town.”
“I don’t know about justice, but there is surely some injustice in cashiering a private dwelling for such a purpose.”
“No injustice is intended. You recall we spoke of thirty-five hundred pounds.”
“No, Your Grace, I recall you spoke of thirty-five hundred pounds. I recall as well you had an invalid aunt on whose behalf you sought the place. Tell me, has there been a sudden death in your family, or has she recovered from her serious lung trouble without benefit of our local gales?”
“I had hoped to appeal to your tender compassion for an elderly invalid. Finding such an emotion lacking, I revert to business instead. There is an invalid aunt, incidentally. I had thought I might put my Aunt Eileen there till I had the museum plans settled, hoping a year by the sea might do her good. But you give me no opportunity to explain my mentioning justice. Seaview is built on the remains of a Roman fort, of course."
“A Roman fort? I heard nothing of that!” I exclaimed.
“Did you not? But surely you mentioned to me haying been in the cellars the other day. You must have seen the stone wall.”
“Stone wall? Certainly I saw stone walls, one vastly superior to the others..."
“The wall below the rattling grate is the remains of one of the old Roman forts. I blush to confess my great-grandfather had the unwisdom to build over it. The desecration that has been done to the Roman ruins is really appalling. The fort was one of the chain that formed the fortification known as the Forts of the Saxon Shore. From Richborough to Portsmouth, to guard against invasion. Porchester Castle is another of them. They were right on the shore in those days, but the sea has receded, and some of them are quite far inland now. This one is closer to the sea than most.”
“I noticed that wall was finer than the others. But you
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