will put them on my watch chain,” he had said at the time.
But, of course, he had forgotten to do so.
Now they looked tarnished and so did the buttons, which had once ornamented the livery of a footman.
The previous Lord Heywood, her dear father’s uncle, had employed no less than three footmen and a butler to wait on him.
When her father came to The Manor, they had a very efficient couple to run the house, a Nanny for her, a valet for her father and an odd-job man.
First the odd-job man had gone, then the valet and, when the couple grew too old and had to retire, they had been left with just Minella’s old Nanny.
She had looked after Minella’s mother when she was a child and had been the mainstay of the house until she had died at the age of seventy-nine shortly before Minella’s mother had passed away.
Minella often thought that, if Nanny had been alive, her mother would not have become so ill for she would have been able to warm the house better than they had.
After that there had been only daily women. Sometimes there were two or three of them but, although they cleaned the place most conscientiously, they were always in a hurry to get back to their own families.
Now there was nobody.
After her father’s death, Minella had deliberately ignored the dust accumulating in the rooms that they did not use.
She told herself that there was no point in spending money that she could not afford and she could manage quite well on her own without any help.
She pulled out of the drawer a piece of blotting paper covered with ink drawings, threw it away and collected everything else into a tidy heap, meaning to put it all into a box.
She was not quite certain what she would do with it but she would keep at least the silver buttons with the family crest on them and perhaps if she could not earn any money, she might even be grateful for the two threepenny bits.
Then, as she realised there was nothing incriminating or anything to make any ‘Nosey-Parker’ curious, she shut the drawer and opened one of the side ones.
This was very different and was stuffed full of letters. She realised that her father seldom answered letters but put them in the drawer, not as keepsakes but because he meant sooner or later to reply.
She started to open the letters systematically, tearing up those that were out of date and no longer of any interest.
A typical example read,
“Dear Roy,
We are expecting you to stay with us for the Hunt Ball. You know you are the only person who can make it enjoyable! We are also relying on you to bring the house party safely down from St. Pancras Station – ”
Minella did not bother to read any more but merely tore up the letter and threw the pieces into the wastepaper basket.
There were many others written in the same strain with addresses embossed on the top of the writing paper and surmounted by impressive crests or coronets.
But every invitation made it clear that her father was invited because he made the party ‘go with a swing’ or, as one invitation written in a woman’s hand, said,
“The whole thing will be a complete failure unless you are there as usual to make us laugh and, as far as I am concerned, to make me very happy – ”
Minella tore up the letter quickly as she had the feeling that anybody reading it would put an interpretation on the words that she did not wish them to do.
Then, because she herself had no wish to pry into her father’s private affairs, she tore up one letter after another without even taking them out of the envelopes or, if they were loose, without reading them.
She was just about to do the same to the last letter in the drawer when the name on the bottom of it caught her eye, ‘Connie’.
She looked at it, thought that she did recognise the handwriting and then with a second glance she was sure that she did.
Constance Langford was the daughter of the Clergyman in the next village to the one in which they lived.
Her father was a clever intelligent man who should never have accepted a country Living but should have been a Don at a University.
Her mother had persuaded him to teach Minella a number of subjects that were beyond the capabilities of the retired Governess who lived in their own village.
It had taken Minella a quarter of an hour riding across the fields to reach the Vicarage of Little Welham and the Reverend Adolphus Langford made her work very hard.
She had first gone to him when she was just fourteen and had shared the lessons with his daughter Constance, who was three years older than her.
It had been more fun learning with another girl and Minella had been very proud of the fact that she was quicker to learn and on the whole much more intelligent than Constance.
Constance, when they were not in her father’s study, made it quite clear that she thought lessons were a bore.
“I think you are lucky to have such a clever father,” Minella said politely.
“I think you are lucky to have such a handsome and exciting one!” Constance replied.
“I will tell Papa what you said,” Minella laughed. “I am sure he will be very flattered.”
She had brought Constance home to tea and, as her father was at home, he made himself very pleasant, as he always did with everybody, and Constance had gone into ecstasies about him.
“He is so smart and so dashing,” she kept saying. “Oh, Minella, when can I come to The Manor again? Just to look at your father is thrilling!”
She had thought that such a gushing compliment was somewhat unkind to Constance’s own father.
She liked the Vicar and found the way that he taught her was efficient and stimulating, but she soon had the suspicion that Constance was being particularly nice to her so that she would invite her again to The Manor.
Because she had so few friends, Minella was only too happy to oblige.
Constance had the use of a horse when her father did not need it and so they would ride back together across the fields. When they reached The Manor, to please Constance, Minella would go in search of her father.
Usually he was in the stables or in the garden and, as it was quite obvious that Constance looked at him with wide-eyed admiration and listened to every word he spoke as if it was the Gospel, Lady Heywood had laughed and said,
“You have certainly captured the heart of the village maiden, Roy, but you must not let her or Minella be a bother to you.”
“They
