intelligence. And there were many other qualities in Tessa which balanced her less attractive traits. Linnet cared about Tessa; her sister was nobody’s fool, she knew that. And yet she had chosen Mark. It troubled her that Tessa had married someone not quite up to par.
Eventually, and somewhat grudgingly, Tessa had agreed to spend Christmas at Pennistone Royal. Even so, it had been a clever compromise. She had explained that they would arrive on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, in time for tea and the lighting of the tree, and depart after lunch on Christmas Day. Her excuse for such a short visit was the necessity of spending Boxing Day with Mark’s parents in Cirencester.
But in essence, Tessa had given her family only twenty-four hours of her time, and Grandfather Bryan, in particular, had been very put out, mainly on Paula’s behalf. He had made a few adverse comments to Linnet, after Tessa had left with Mark and Adele. He frequently confided his thoughts to her, and in this instance he had said that Tessa was as manipulative now as she had been as a child.
Despite the Christmas activities, and the presence of the other clans as well as the O’Neills, Tessa had acted rather strangely, in Linnet’s opinion. Temperamental by nature, especially in her childhood when she had been prone to throwing tantrums, this characteristic seemed to get the better of her at Christmas. During the short time she was in Yorkshire, she had not even bothered to disguise her moodiness or ill temper, much to Linnet’s surprise. Furthermore, she seemed hell-bent on doing battle.
Now, as then, Linnet wondered why. There appeared to be no valid reason for this curious combativeness, and she thought Tessa was being reckless in the way she constantly annoyed their mother.
Paula had not said anything to Linnet at Christmas, nor since then, regarding Tessa’s questionable behaviour. But understanding her mother the way she did, Linnet knew Paula had not missed a trick. She was merely biding her time. It was unlikely that Paula would put up with Tessa’s moods for very long. She was a practical woman with her feet firmly on the ground, and emotional outbursts for no apparent reason usually left her totally unmoved.
So be it, Linnet muttered to herself. What will be, will be. I’ll just have to tackle things as they come at me … if indeed they do. And in the meantime, I’m not going to worry.
But despite this promise to herself, Linnet did worry as she continued her trek down into the valley. She was far too astute to underestimate her sister, and she also knew that Tessa could fight a mean fight.
She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. But if it did she would have to defend herself. She had no other choice.
Linnet was glad to be off the moors for once, and she experienced a sense of relief as she crossed the long meadow behind Pennistone Royal. It was going to snow, and very soon; she knew from experience that the worst thing that could happen was to be caught on the moors in bad weather.
When she finally arrived at the old, wrought-iron gate that led into the estate she pushed it open, hurried past the vegetable gardens, and only slowed her pace when she came to the parterres cut into the back lawn.
She stood there for a second surveying the intricate designs, as always intrigued by their geometric precision. ‘Best seen from the air, them there parterres,’ Wiggs used to say to her when she was a little girl and he was a young gardener. ‘But I don’t have an aeroplane,’ she would protest, staring at him perplexed. ‘An upstairs window then?’ he would suggest with a big wink. And she would wink back, the way he had taught her, run into the house, up the stairs and into a back bedroom. From there she could see the parterres from high up, just as Wiggs had said. She had always had a soft spot for him; now he was head gardener at Pennistone Royal and in charge of the whole estate.
On this cold morning she thought the parterres looked a bit sad. But in the spring and summer the geometrical patterns would be bristling with tender young leaves and the small, flowering plants that brought vivid colour to the dark earth. And elsewhere on the estate the many fountains would be spraying water high into the bright sunlight, and the famous Rhododendron Walk, which her mother had created over thirty years ago, would be in full bloom. That was the time of year she loved the gardens best of all, when there was such renewal, and everything was bursting with life and the air was fragrant with mingled scents.
Linnet shivered under the sharp wind and hurried on, huddling down into her coat, wanting to get home to stand in front of one of the roaring fires, to warm herself until she was thawed out.
Within a few minutes the front façade of the house loomed up in front of her, and she came to a stop, gazing up at it with admiration. There was a timelessness about it that never failed to move her … how much this house must have seen over the hundreds and hundreds of years it had been standing. The dramas of families and so many lives. Happiness and joy, pain and suffering, death and loss, love and marriage and the bearing of children. An endless, enduring cycle, her grandfather was prone to saying, always adding, ‘If only these venerable old stones could talk, what stories they could tell.’
Rooted in the seventeenth century, Pennistone Royal had a majestic dignity with its mingling of Renaissance and Jacobean architecture. The grey stone walls were intersected with many mullioned windows and topped with crenellated towers, whilst tall chimneys punctuated the roof. When she had been a very little girl she had thought of those chimneys as sentinels standing guard over the house and everyone in it – especially her family.
She smiled at the remembrance; she had been such an imaginative, fanciful child.
As her eyes roamed over it she realized just how much she loved this ancient house. It was her safe haven, her home, just as it had been Emma’s home for so many years of her long life. Linnet felt her great-grandmother’s presence in every corner of it, and this was another reason she cared about it so much. Grandy Emma would want me to have it, when my time comes, Linnet mused, but I hope that’s not for years and years …
She lifted her eyes and glanced up at the sky as she began to walk on at a brisk pace. As usual it had changed yet again: bloated, heavy with cloud, it looked curiously luminous, streaked with pale, silvery light. Suddenly her face was thoroughly wet … it had started to snow and the flakes were whirling around her in great flurries, settling on her scarf and her coat.
Not wasting another moment, Linnet began to run, her loden coat flying out behind her.
Bryan O’Neill had arrived at Pennistone Royal over an hour ago, and once he had looked in on his grandson, Desmond, who was recovering from the flu, he had made his way to the upstairs parlour.
Positioning himself at a window, he had stood there ever since, looking out at the moors, anxiously waiting for Linnet to return, worried about her.
Now, as he saw her sprinting along the path, he relaxed for the first time since entering the house. Convinced that she was going to get lost in a blizzard, as she had once before, he had been on tenterhooks.
With her suddenly in his direct line of vision, his spirits lifted considerably, and he felt his taut shoulders relaxing. A small sigh escaped. He tried so hard not to have favourites amongst his grandchildren – he loved them all – but there was no denying he loved this one the best, even though Desmond happened to be the apple of his eye, the long-awaited male heir-apparent.
Linnet was a wonderful young woman in so many different ways, but then so were his other granddaughters. However, there was a special reason why she was close to his heart and precious to him, and it was bound up with so many of his memories and his childhood.
Bryan
