Page 39 of The Christmas Retreat
Nerys, who had been looking quite taken aback, recovered herself and said, ‘I doubt I can add much to your research, I’m afraid. Arwen Madoc remained here a very short time and I know there was no contact with the family after she left.’
‘Oh, there is always something to dig out, if you look in the right places, talk to the right people,’ Evie said. ‘And actually, you and I are also very distantly related, because Arwen’s father, the Impressionist painter Lewis Madoc, was a second cousin of Cosmo Caradoc.’
‘Yes, I was aware of his relationship with Lewis Madoc,’ Nerys agreed. ‘I just had no idea you were a descendant.’
I wasn’t altogether sure this had come as good news to her.
‘A verydistantone,’ I put in. ‘I don’t think it really counts at all!’
Toby, who had been looking from the portrait to Evie now grinned at me, making his handsome face engagingly youthful. ‘I suppose this is your great-grandmother, then, but you haven’t got the family nose!’
‘No, I seem to have missed out on the height, the nose and the fair colouring genes,’ I agreed.
‘I’m sure this is all very interesting,’ said Kate, ‘but time is getting on and I, for one, want to get on with some work this morning.’
‘This is part of my work,’ said Evie, ‘but of course, Nerys and I need to talk about it another time. I’d meant to discuss it with her privately first, but the portrait pre-empted that.’
‘You’re right, Kate, and we must get on with the tour,’ agreed Nerys, who had been giving Evie a look that I found hard to interpret. ‘We’ve only really got upstairs left so it won’t take long.’
She pointed out more paintings on the wall as we went upstairs, and a passage off the first landing with a glazed door at the end of it.
‘The door gives on to a terrace over the ballroom, with lovely views over the garden to the sea and also to the right up towards Mab’s Grave. Our retreat guests often choose to paint there in summer.’
She gestured towards the guest wing. ‘There is no need to show you your own rooms, of course. There is a staircase to the attic at the end of the corridor too, but the one on that side is only used for storage, while that accessed by the stair here, just along the passage to the other, family wing, leads to what were once the servants’ quarters and is now further guest accommodation.’
She opened what I’d thought was another cupboard until I noticed a fire escape sign on it, and revealed stairs going down.
‘This leads to the passage by the kitchen and is an escape route in case of fire, as is the door on to the terrace. I expect you’ve all seen the fire alarm and escape route notice on the backs of your bedroom doors.’
She closed the door to the back stairs. ‘That pretty much concludes the tour. I won’t drag you out into the cold to see the outside. You can explore the grounds at your leisure.’
We trooped down after her to the hall again, warm and fragranced with pine from the tree and other spicy smells from the direction of the kitchen.
‘The side door from the garden hall gives on to the shrubbery and a small walled kitchen garden. I expect you can still find carrots and brassicas there, Verity, if you want to branch out into painting vegetables alongside your flowers,’ Nerys suggested.
Her voice was grave, but I was sure she was teasing Verity.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Verity seriously. ‘Fruit can make a nice still life, though.’
‘True,’ agreed Nerys, with equal gravity. ‘Near the garden is a small courtyard with the garage, which has a flat over it, occupied by Tudor and Bronwen. There are a few wooden huts in the grounds used by guests in the summer too, but they are all shut up for the winter.’
She smiled at us. ‘I’m now going to the studio to work but I will see you at lunch. Those of you going to the pottery should turn left out of the front door and take the path through the arch.’
We all thanked her for the tour and began to disperse. Verity, I noticed, followed Nerys towards the studio. Perhaps she was keen to start work on the hothouse flowers, before they were past their best.
I went back up to my room: there was time for a cup of Earl Grey from the teabags I’d brought with me before I set off for the pottery.
While I drank it, I thought of Arwen’s portrait and the indefinable expression on Nerys’s face when Evie had told her she was not only researching Arwen’s time at Triskelion, but that Evie and I were distantly related to her.
Whatever it was, it was not uncontained joy.
12
Slightly Glazed
Once I’d put on my padded jacket and a scarf, I let myself out of the front door into the crisp, cold air. The threatened snow had not materialized, but there was still a glaze of frost on everything.
Toby and Pearl must have just left, for at the sound of the door closing behind me, they turned at the arch on to the coach house drive and waited for me.
