The Triumph of Katie Byrne (12 page)

Slowly the iron gates swung open.

Lavinia shot through them, and sped down the drive. This was very wide, actually an avenue, and it was lined on either side by ancient trees, many of their thick trunks covered in green moss. Among the trees, deer and fawns wandered around, some of them grazing, and the animals added a natural charm to the setting, which had a timelessness about it.

Xenia observed Katie staring at the deer. ‘I forgot to tell you, but Burton Leyburn Hall is set in a deer park. There have always been deer here, ever since Queen Elizabeth I gifted the lands to Robert Leyburn, who eventually built the hall on them. These days we’ve got about fifty deer, stags, and fawns.’

Katie had been thinking about her mother’s problems with the deer in Malvern, deer which ate all of her flowers, but she decided not to mention this now. Instead, she asked, ‘How old is the house?’

‘It’s late Elizabethan. It was built in 1577, which is the date over the door, and that’s probably when the house was actually finished. So it’s over four hundred years old. But you’ll see it in a moment. It’s rather charming.’

The woods on either side of the wide drive soon gave way to a vast expanse of flat green parkland, and in the distance, poised against the blue horizon, stood the house. Katie realized that Xenia’s description of it as being ‘rather charming’ was something of an understatement.

It did not look like a country house, or a manor house. Nor could it be termed a mansion. Burton Leyburn Hall was much, much more. It fell into the category of stately home, of that Katie was absolutely certain. Even from this distance she could see that it was magnificent.

But much to her disappointment, Katie did not get a chance to view the house properly in the way she
wished to; as they approached the front façade, Lavinia suddenly, and rather quickly, veered off to the right.

She sped down a dirt road and turned into a large cobblestone yard, exclaiming, ‘These are the stables, Katie,’ and brought the vintage Bentley to an abrupt standstill.

‘Come on,’ she said, pulling on the brake and turning off the ignition simultaneously. ‘We’re late for tea. We’ll deal with the luggage later.’

‘So sorry to bring you through the back way,’ Xenia apologized once they had alighted from the car. Taking hold of Katie’s arm, she led her across the cobblestone yard.

Katie heard snorting and whinnying, and glanced over her shoulder. She saw two beautiful horses looking out over the stall doors. Then, a split second later, she was ushered into the house.

A cacophony of sounds greeted them as they came into the back entrance hall, which also served as a mudroom-cloakroom and was filled with a diverse collection of riding boots, green wellies, raincoats, and Barbours.

A woman’s voice, singing in a foreign tongue, rose above the clatter of pots and pans, a dog barking, a kettle whistling and muted voices in conversation. All emanated from the nearby kitchen, from which delicious smells were wafting, reminding Katie suddenly of home.

‘That’s Anya singing, of course.’ Xenia grinned as she shed her black coat and scarf, and hung both on a peg. ‘I want you to meet her, but it’ll have to be later. Right now I think we should join Verity for tea.’

Katie nodded, put her loden coat alongside Xenia’s, then straightened the jacket of her wine-coloured trouser suit. She glanced at her watch and frowned. ‘It’s almost five, aren’t we a bit late?’

‘No, only a few minutes.’

‘But I thought the English always had afternoon tea at four.’

‘Anywhere between four and five. And here it’s always been later, around quarter to five, mostly because dinner’s usually about eight-thirty or nine. But Verity doesn’t mind if people are a few minutes late for tea.’ She shook her head, added, ‘It’s Lavinia who always makes such a fuss about being on time for tea. Come on, follow me.’

Xenia left the mudroom and headed down a long corridor. This was somewhat gloomy, despite wall sconces which hung at intervals on the side walls. Katie, who was right behind her, soon found herself stepping into a large, square entrance hall filled with late-afternoon light, plus sparkling illumination from a huge, carved-wood chandelier dropping down from the ceiling. The sudden change made her blink, and she adjusted her eyes to the brightness.

Xenia turned, waved her hand in the air, and said, with sudden vivacity, ‘This is where you
should
have come in, Katie, and isn’t it a lovely entrance hall?’

‘It certainly is, and very impressive,’ Katie exclaimed, smiling with pleasure. Glancing around, she took in the four tall leaded windows, the high-flung, beamed ceiling, the stone urn of chrysanthemums and branches on an oak table, and faded but beautiful wall tapestries.

‘In summer, it’s a tradition to have tea either in the Blue Room, or on the terrace just outside it, depending on the weather. But at the end of September, it’s always taken upstairs in the Great High Chamber, as it’s called.
This custom was started by Verity’s great-grandmother, who favoured that room,’ Xenia explained. ‘So we’ve got to go to the second floor.’

‘That’s no problem,’ Katie answered.

Their footsteps echoed sharply as Xenia, making for the wide, curving staircase, guided Katie across the time-worn old flagstones in the carpetless hall.

Together, the two women mounted the grand staircase constructed of dark polished oak and with an intricately carved balustrade. The side wall was hung with family portraits of Leyburn ancestors, and Katie would have loved to pause for a moment really to look at the paintings. But Xenia, hurrying faster, was already ahead, her high heels clattering against the wide, wooden stairs.

When Katie reached the second-floor landing, Xenia was sitting on a bench, waiting for her, and she looked at her intently, frowning. ‘Is there something the matter? You’re looking rather odd.’

‘No, nothing’s wrong. I was just wondering about Verity’s last name. You’ve never told me what it is. I don’t know what to call her.’

‘Her married name is Lady Hawes, but she doesn’t like to be called that. Probably because she’s divorced from Geoffrey…that’s Lord Hawes. She prefers Verity.’

‘I can’t call her by her first name, that’s so rude.’

‘She doesn’t mind, honestly.’

Katie shook her head. ‘I can’t. I shall call her Lady Hawes.’

Xenia smiled knowingly. ‘Suit yourself, but you’ll
see
, she won’t like it.’ Xenia now opened the large double doors on the landing, beckoning to Katie. ‘This is the Great High Chamber.’

What an apt name, Katie thought, as she followed her friend inside.

The room was vast and high, with a soaring ceiling that was coffered, and heavily decorated with plaster flowers and medallions, each painted in soft pastel colours. But aside from its size and airy proportions, what was so stunning about it were the six windows which almost reached to the ceiling. All six were mullioned; three punctuated one wall. Two of these windows had window seats beneath them, while the third central window was in a curved bay, and was, in fact, an oriel window into which was set, in glass panes, the coat of arms of the Leyburn family. Two more tall windows flanked the fireplace, a sixth broke up the wall facing the bay with its oriel window.

Katie realized that because of the windows the room must be spectacular on a sunny day. But even now, late on this October afternoon, soft light suffused it. And this natural light, slowly fading as dusk came down, was underscored by the muted glow from the porcelain lamps, shaded with cream silk, which were placed around the room.

A fire blazed in the hearth, potpourri and candles scented the air, as did several tall vases of gold and russet
chrysanthemums mixed in with copper beach leaves and yellow roses.

Overall, the room was essentially cream in colour, with soft accents of pale green, pink and a touch of black. Katie took in several large sofas and armchairs covered in cream silk-brocade, mixed with handsome antique chests and occasional tables. A beautiful Elizabethan writing table, intricately carved, stood behind one of the large sofas. Hanging on the cream walls were wonderful portraits of Leyburn ancestors, all of them female, and the vivid colours of their gowns enhanced the monochromatic scheme.

Katie’s instant impression, as her eyes scanned the room, was one of charm and beauty, along with a feeling of welcoming warmth and comfort.

A woman was sitting near the fireplace and she rose, came forward to meet them, her face filled with smiles, her eyes sparkling.

‘You must be the famous Katie Byrne. Whom I’ve heard so much about,’ she said, extending her hand, taking Katie’s in hers. ‘I’m so glad Xenia asked you to come. I’ve been longing to meet you.’

‘And I you,’ Katie found herself saying with a wide smile. ‘Thank you for having me, Lady Hawes.’

‘Oh no, no, no, not that! It’s Verity. That’s the only name I answer to around here, Katie. Please call me Verity.’

Katie inclined her head. ‘Verity, then.’

‘Now, come and sit here near the fire, not that it’s very cold out today. But I do like a fire. There’s something rather comforting about one, don’t you think?’

Katie simply nodded and sat down.

‘And very welcoming,’ said Xenia, embracing Verity and then lowering herself into an armchair. Leaning forward, looking at the tea tray on the large coffee table, Xenia began to laugh. ‘Goodness, what scrumptious things, Verity, but oh so lethal! Clotted cream and Anya’s homemade strawberry jam for the scones. Oh dear, and a sponge cake with cream and raspberry-jam filling. And chocolate eclairs. Everything does make my mouth water, but I think I’ll settle for one of the nursery sandwiches and a cup of tea with lemon. What about you, Katie?’

‘A cucumber sandwich will do nicely, thanks. I’m afraid all the lovely creamy things will go straight to my hips.’

‘Neither of you have to worry,’ Verity exclaimed. ‘You’re both as thin as sticks. Come along, tuck in, you must be hungry after the journey. And dinner is not until nine tonight.’

Reaching for the teapot, Verity filled their cups and her own, added lemon to Xenia’s and asked Katie, ‘Do you prefer milk?’

‘No, lemon, please.’

The door burst open at this moment, and Lavinia came gliding into the room.

She had shed her red jacket and freshened up, and once again Katie couldn’t help thinking how much she resembled the late Audrey Hepburn, as the star had looked when she had first gone into movies. And it was that essentially gamine quality that was so appealing about Lavinia, and gave her such individuality.

Lavinia was carrying a folder. ‘I’m sorry, Verity,’ she said, ‘I forgot to give you your letters before I went to Harrogate. I’ll put them here on the table. You can sign them later, and I’ll post them tomorrow.’ She placed the folder in the middle of the Elizabethan table behind the sofa, and then came to join them in front of the fire.

‘I ran into Pell, and he says we’re in for a cold snap tomorrow, Xenia. You and Katie will have to wrap up well when you go to Haworth. It can be bitter up on those moors.’

‘I thought you’d planned to take Katie to the Brontë Museum on Saturday?’ Verity said swiftly, looking across at Xenia. ‘I really need to go over a number of important matters with you, and very frankly, I’d set aside tomorrow morning to do that, since I have a busy day on Saturday…’ Her cultured voice trailed off and she sat back in her chair, crossed her legs.

‘Oh that’s not a problem, we can go to Haworth on Saturday, Verity. And tomorrow Katie can immerse herself in all the Brontë books in the library here. Right, Katie?’

‘Yes, I’d like that. It doesn’t matter when we go to Haworth. Sunday would be fine, if you prefer that.’

‘And miss one of Anya’s smashing Sunday lunches, oh no,’ Xenia laughed.

Lavinia poured herself a cup of tea, placed a slice of sponge cake on a plate and carried both over to the hearth. Here she sat down on a low bench, and took a sip of tea.

A silence fell between the four of them.

Katie leaned against the sofa cushions, relaxing, enjoying the warmth and beauty of this extraordinary room, so filled with the past, the history of this family, and she felt its peacefulness, its lovely tranquillity flowing around her. There were no sounds at all except for the crackle of the logs in the fireplace and the faint ticking of a large brass carriage clock on a nearby chest of drawers. The clock was surrounded by many silver-framed photographs and she wished she could go and look at them, but she knew she couldn’t do that. It would be far too rude. Perhaps later, if she were alone here, she would sneak a look.

Her eyes shifted to her hostess, and for a few seconds she studied Verity surreptitiously. She was a lovely-looking woman in a soft, understated way. Her hair was pale blonde, almost silver-gilt, and she wore it in a pageboy style which fell just above her shoulders. Her face was very clean cut, almost sharp in its planes and angles, and her pale-blue eyes were large and expressive
under arched brown brows. Of medium height, Verity was trimly built and slender, and she looked good in the expensive, well-cut grey trousers, and a man-tailored white silk shirt. Katie noticed that she wore a watch on one wrist, and a collection of narrow gold bracelets on the other, but no rings at all. A long string of large pearls and pearl studs on her ears were her only other pieces of jewellery. But despite her simple clothes and the simplicity of her appearance, Katie thought she was one of the most intensely glamorous women she had ever seen, and she was intrigued by Verity, longed to know more about her.

Xenia broke the silence when she said to Lavinia, ‘Do you want to come with us to Haworth? You’re very welcome.’

‘Thanks, but no thanks, Xenia. I’m going to paint on Saturday and Sunday.’

‘The Hudson Gallery in Harrogate is giving Lavinia a show,’ Verity announced with a smile. ‘And although she has a number of paintings finished, she still needs quite a few more to make a full show.’

‘How wonderful. Congratulations!’ Xenia exclaimed.

‘Yes, congratulations, Lavinia,’ Katie murmured.

‘I hope you’ll both come up for it,’ Lavinia said, looking from Xenia to Katie. ‘The show’s in January.’

‘When in January?’ Xenia asked.

‘Towards the end of the month,’ Lavinia replied. ‘Penny Hudson, the owner of the gallery, hasn’t set
the actual date. But she was thinking of the twenty-fifth, something like that. When all of the Millennium celebrations have calmed down.’

Xenia nodded. ‘I’ll probably be back in London by then. I have to be in New York for the New Year, we have a number of events we’re organizing.’ She looked at Katie and said, ‘And you’ll be rehearsing, won’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Katie said quickly, and picked up her cup of tea, suddenly not wanting to talk about the play. How angry they would all be with her if she should change her mind. I’m not going to do that, she thought. That would be cowardly on my part. She said to Lavinia, ‘I’m sorry I’ll miss the show, but I would love to see some of your paintings, if you’d like to show them to me this weekend.’

‘Hey, that’s a great idea, Katie!’ Lavinia cried, full of enthusiasm, her exuberance bubbling to the surface. ‘Perhaps you’ll have a chance to come and see them tomorrow. Verity lets me use an old barn for a studio, and it’s not far from the Hall, near the Home Farm. It’s a nice walk, but if you prefer, I’ll come and fetch you in the landrover.’

‘I’d enjoy that,’ Katie murmured. Once again, her curiosity rose to the surface and she wondered what Lavinia’s story was, and how Anya, a Russian woman, had come to be the cook here. She would ask Xenia later.

After eating the cream cake and a chocolate eclair,
Lavinia jumped up, announcing, ‘I’d better be off. Thanks so much for tea, Verity. I’ll be in the office for another hour, if you need me.’

‘I don’t think I will, darling,’ Verity said, smiling at the younger woman. ‘And thanks for all your hard work today, and for fetching Xenia and Katie from the train.’

Lavinia simply smiled at her, and hurried out of the Great High Chamber, saying as she left, ‘See you tomorrow, ladies,’ and closed the heavy door behind her with a bang.

Verity laughed. ‘Oh to be twenty-two again and full of vitality, as she is.’

‘You’re no slouch yourself,’ Xenia exclaimed with a laugh. ‘Look at you…out every morning at the crack, riding your horse, and jumping hedges. Running the estate and the village and everything else in sight. Overseeing the Home Farm. Looking after Leyburn interests in general. Why you’re…a…veritable tycoon. And very successful at what you do, which is a lot.’

Verity smiled. ‘Not really, and you’re just prejudiced.’

Xenia laughed, and said, ‘I’m loth to break up our little tea party, but I think I ought to retrieve the luggage and take Katie to her room, if you don’t mind.’