None of her family had ever actually lived in the house before she inherited it, but they had owned it for nearly a hundred and fifty years now.
It must be quite remarkable. Why is it that none of you ever lived there? He wondered if it was just impractical, or if there was something more, and the way she talked about it intrigued him.
It is remarkable. It has a soul of its own, an incredible feeling. It's as though you can still sense the woman it was built for. I tried to get Jimmy and Kathleen to use it as a summerhouse years ago, they used it once, and Kathleen hated it. Jimmy told her a lot of nonsense about ghosts and terrified her, and she would never stay there again. It's a shame, it's the most romantic place I've ever been. He smiled at her as she said it, but he spent most of the time battling the snow as they drove there. The storm had really picked up, and the wind was blowing the snow into high drifts all around them.
They went as far as they could on the road, and Mrs. Palmer told him where to leave the car. He could see nothing but trees all around, and he was worried they'd get lost, but she only smiled at him, as she tightened her coat around her and beckoned. She knew exactly where she was going.
I feel like Hansel and Gretel in the forest, he said, and they both laughed. You should have told me to bring breadcrumbs, he said, with his head bowed, holding on to her so she wouldn't fall. He had a firm hand beneath her elbow, but she was strong and spry, and she was used to coming here in all kinds of weather, although she seldom came now. But just being here made her smile, and she looked at him as though she were about to give him a present. Who was the woman it was built for? he asked, as they walked along, with their heads bowed against the wind. He remembered that she had said a Frenchman had built it for a woman.
Her name was Sarah Ferguson, she said, holding on to him then so she didn't stumble, and he walked close to her. They were like mother and son, and he was faintly worried about her. The storm had gotten worse just in the last few minutes, and he was serious about being concerned about being lost in the forest. And if they were on a traveled path, he had no sense of it, but she did. She never hesitated for a moment. And then she began telling him Sarah's story. She was a remarkable woman. She came from England all alone. The stories about her are quite mysterious and very romantic. She fled a husband who was terrible to her ' the Earl of Balfour ' Just hearing the words sounded exotic to Charlie. She was the Countess of Balfour when she came here in 1789.
How did she meet up with the Frenchman? Charlie asked, intrigued now. There was something about the way she told the story, with little hints, and only the merest glimpses of what lay beyond, that inevitably hooked him.
That's a long, long story. I've always been fascinated by her, Gladys Palmer said, looking at him, but squinting in the storm, she was a woman of immeasurable strength and courage. But before she could say more, the trees parted suddenly and they stood in a little clearing. Even in the snow, she had known exactly the road she was on, and Charlie found himself staring at a beautifully built, perfectly proportioned small chateau, just beyond them. It sat next to a small lake, which Gladys Palmer said had once been filled with swans, but they were long gone now, and even at a distance, in the blinding snow, Charlie was well aware of the extraordinary beauty of the location. He had never seen anything like it. It looked like an exquisite little jewel, sitting there, and as they approached it almost reverently, he could hardly wait to get inside it.
Gladys was smiling as they walked up the front steps, and he was startled to see that they were marble. And as she took out the old brass key and fit it in the lock, she looked over her shoulder at Charlie.
One of the most remarkable things about the place is that Francois de
It must be quite remarkable. Why is it that none of you ever lived there? He wondered if it was just impractical, or if there was something more, and the way she talked about it intrigued him.
It is remarkable. It has a soul of its own, an incredible feeling. It's as though you can still sense the woman it was built for. I tried to get Jimmy and Kathleen to use it as a summerhouse years ago, they used it once, and Kathleen hated it. Jimmy told her a lot of nonsense about ghosts and terrified her, and she would never stay there again. It's a shame, it's the most romantic place I've ever been. He smiled at her as she said it, but he spent most of the time battling the snow as they drove there. The storm had really picked up, and the wind was blowing the snow into high drifts all around them.
They went as far as they could on the road, and Mrs. Palmer told him where to leave the car. He could see nothing but trees all around, and he was worried they'd get lost, but she only smiled at him, as she tightened her coat around her and beckoned. She knew exactly where she was going.
I feel like Hansel and Gretel in the forest, he said, and they both laughed. You should have told me to bring breadcrumbs, he said, with his head bowed, holding on to her so she wouldn't fall. He had a firm hand beneath her elbow, but she was strong and spry, and she was used to coming here in all kinds of weather, although she seldom came now. But just being here made her smile, and she looked at him as though she were about to give him a present. Who was the woman it was built for? he asked, as they walked along, with their heads bowed against the wind. He remembered that she had said a Frenchman had built it for a woman.
Her name was Sarah Ferguson, she said, holding on to him then so she didn't stumble, and he walked close to her. They were like mother and son, and he was faintly worried about her. The storm had gotten worse just in the last few minutes, and he was serious about being concerned about being lost in the forest. And if they were on a traveled path, he had no sense of it, but she did. She never hesitated for a moment. And then she began telling him Sarah's story. She was a remarkable woman. She came from England all alone. The stories about her are quite mysterious and very romantic. She fled a husband who was terrible to her ' the Earl of Balfour ' Just hearing the words sounded exotic to Charlie. She was the Countess of Balfour when she came here in 1789.
How did she meet up with the Frenchman? Charlie asked, intrigued now. There was something about the way she told the story, with little hints, and only the merest glimpses of what lay beyond, that inevitably hooked him.
That's a long, long story. I've always been fascinated by her, Gladys Palmer said, looking at him, but squinting in the storm, she was a woman of immeasurable strength and courage. But before she could say more, the trees parted suddenly and they stood in a little clearing. Even in the snow, she had known exactly the road she was on, and Charlie found himself staring at a beautifully built, perfectly proportioned small chateau, just beyond them. It sat next to a small lake, which Gladys Palmer said had once been filled with swans, but they were long gone now, and even at a distance, in the blinding snow, Charlie was well aware of the extraordinary beauty of the location. He had never seen anything like it. It looked like an exquisite little jewel, sitting there, and as they approached it almost reverently, he could hardly wait to get inside it.
Gladys was smiling as they walked up the front steps, and he was startled to see that they were marble. And as she took out the old brass key and fit it in the lock, she looked over her shoulder at Charlie.
One of the most remarkable things about the place is that Francois de
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