So Near So Far by Parkinson C. Northcote Page A

beyond, of what had been the chapel. There had been little attempt at gardening, the immediate surroundings looking wild and unkempt. Across the field a glint of sunshine revealed a silver inlet of the sea.
    â€œIt is really a coastal fortification,” explained Delancey, “but the present Governor has a plan for reclaiming all the land to the north of us. The Vale is now an island, connected with Guernsey proper by the bridge at St Sampson’s. Sir John means to change all that, much to the annoyance of the fishermen.”
    â€œBut what is his object?”
    â€œHe has to defend the island and he has no means at present of rushing his artillery to the north-west corner of it. He wants firm ground and he wants a good road and I can’t blame him. We shall be the losers to this extent, that we shall be further from the sea. We shall gain in being able to keep a carriage. We shall also gain in having easier access to St Sampson’s for shopping.”
    â€œLet’s look at the house from the direction in which it faces,”said Fiona, and then presently clapped her hands and exclaimed, “It is like a miniature castle in some romantic novel. No, it is more like a castle on the stage. It is far prettier than I thought it would be!”
    â€œThe coach house is detached on the left, then there is the gateway and courtyard and the main building, then the kitchen under the battlements, and, last of all, the Chapel of St Thomas. It is said to have been built in about 1300 but there may have been earlier buildings before that. I have tried to make the place habitable. It has a roof on, for instance! But there will be a hundred things you will want to put right. I have directed operations from a distance and the builder has not always done what I wanted. There is only the one servant at present, the woman who acts as caretaker, and the garden is little better than a wilderness. We shall have years of work to do!”
    â€œAnd you’ll run away to sea and leave me to do it! Well, never mind. That means I shall have my own way about everything. And one thing I’ve decided already. It is no good aiming at formality here. The style must be rustic and gothic, a planned disorder—don’t you agree?”
    â€œThat is my own plan in so far as I have had one.”
    â€œGood! Now let’s go inside.”
    Old Mrs Mahy met them at the main entrance with greetings in the local dialect, which Delancey was able to return, and they looked at the hall, the kitchen, and the dining room with its great fireplace and furze oven.
    â€œAt last,” cried Fiona, “I have a home of my own.”
    Delancey’s next care was to call on Sir John Doyle, the Governor, and make his presence known to Sir James Saumarez, to Captain Savage, and to many old friends, not forgetting SamCarter. Convinced as he was that a renewal of war was certain, he ensured that Fiona should have plenty of good neighbours, people who would care for her while he might be at sea. Three months of activity followed, and the Delanceys finally spent Christmas in their own home. It was a happy time for both of them and Delancey had intense pleasure in watching the perfection of Fiona’s manners and the good impression she made on all her acquaintances. It was, as he had guessed, her training as an actress that had prepared her to play any part, and now she played to a nicety the part of a senior officer’s wife. She could have been a great lady with equal ease but she knew, by instinct, that she could give offence by being too grand. She knew her position to within an inch, being always kind as well as polite, simply but correctly dressed for every occasion, remembering everyone by name and being properly deferential to all who might regard themselves as senior to Delancey. She regarded it all as a game and one of which she must know the rules before she dared laugh at them. To watch Fiona’s artistry on every