Farewell to Burracombe

Book 11: Burracombe Village

by Lilian Harry

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

The day that Hilary and David have been waiting for has finally arrived and as the church bells ring out for the arrival of the bride, everyone's fingers are crossed for the day to go without a hitch. The festivities set the tone for the year ahead and there's more love in the air in Burracombe so planning continues for both Dottie and Joe's and Frances and James's nuptials. There's nothing like a wedding to bring the village together. Times are changing in Burracombe and as young and old embark on new adventures it's time to say goodbye. But with friends like these, a goodbye is rarely for ever, so instead we'll say a very fond farewell.

Release date: August 25, 2016

Publisher: Orion Publishing Group

Print pages: 352

Sample

Chapter One

September 1955

‘Today of all days!’ Basil Harvey lamented, wringing his hands. ‘Why couldn’t it have kept going for just one more day? It will spoil everything.’

‘Not everything,’ Felix Copley tried to console him. ‘The reception will go just as planned. It’s just the service …’ His voice faded as he caught Basil’s eye. Although now a vicar in his own right, he still felt very much a curate when he was in the Burracombe church. ‘I’m sorry,’ he added humbly. ‘Of course the marriage service is the most important part of the day. But not having the organ won’t affect Hilary and David getting married.’

‘And how is the bride going to feel, entering the church to a deathly silence instead of Wagner’s “Wedding March”?’ Basil enquired coldly. ‘It will start everything off on the wrong foot. And it’s too late to get a piano or any other musical instrument – unless you can suddenly produce a violin from under your cassock?’

Felix thought briefly of suggesting the village skiffle group, but decided against it. He looked plaintively at Dorothy Doidge, the organist, a tall, thin sixty-year-old who was bending this way and that between them like a willow sapling in a breeze, and almost in tears. ‘Is there really no hope of getting a tune out of it?’

Miss Doidge shook her head mournfully. ‘I’ve been trying all morning. I came early for a last rehearsal and it wouldn’t give a single note. I knew it was failing, of course—’

‘We all did,’ Basil interrupted. ‘That’s why we’ve been raising money for the repairs. But we’re barely halfway there and I hoped and prayed that it would last a little while longer. To let us down today …’ He looked ready to burst into tears himself, his round, rosy face crumpled like a baby’s.

‘Well, it’s no use bemoaning something we can’t put right,’ Felix said briskly. ‘We’ve got about five minutes before David arrives and a quarter of an hour before Hilary’s due. We’ve got to make a decision.’

‘What decision? I can’t see that there’s anything to decide. We don’t have an organ and that’s all there is to it. At least we have the bells,’ Basil added as a sudden clamour broke out overhead. ‘It will sound from outside as if we’re celebrating a marriage, even if it’s more like a funeral inside. And for dear Hilary, too! It’s such a shame.’

‘But not a disaster,’ Felix said firmly. ‘Look, we’ve got a good choir. I can sing tenor, and James Raynor has a fine baritone voice, not to mention Alf Coker’s bass. The congregation will all join in, I’m sure, and if we all put our hearts into it we can make a sound as fine as any organ.’ He caught Miss Doidge’s eye. ‘Almost as fine.’

Basil stared at him. ‘What are you talking about? Sing the “Wedding March”? It doesn’t have any words!’

‘But it has a tune,’ Felix said. ‘And it’s a tune everyone knows. We can hum it. Honestly, it will sound quite wonderful.’ As long as nobody sang the unofficial words, Here comes the bride, all fat and wide … he thought, but it was best not to put that idea into Basil’s head. ‘Look, if you agree, I’ll go into the church now and tell them – nearly everyone’s there already – and we’ll have a quick rehearsal.’ He saw the wavering look on the vicar’s face. ‘I really can’t think of any other solution,’ he said persuasively.

‘But there are the hymns,’ Basil said, despairing again. ‘And she’s coming out to Mendelssohn … are they really up to humming that as well?’

‘I’m sure they will be,’ Felix assured him, trying to keep the doubt from his own voice. ‘Everyone will be in the swing of it by then. And the happy couple will hardly notice. I know I didn’t notice the organ at all when Stella and I got married.’ He caught Dorothy Doidge’s eye again. ‘Well, you know bridegrooms never do notice things like that. Anyway, it’s the entrance that’s most important. If the worst comes to the worst, we can all just clap as they come out of the vestry, and we’ll ask Ted Tozer to start the bells ringing then instead of waiting until they’re at the church door.’ He pulled up the sleeve of his surplice to glance at his watch. ‘But we really do need to decide now, if I’m going to explain it to the congregation and do a quick run-through.’ He gazed at Basil in entreaty and the vicar gave way.

‘Very well. It seems we have no choice. But if you’re not happy with your rehearsal, please don’t do it. I can’t have the whole thing degenerate into a farce.’

‘Of course not,’ Felix said, and escaped into the church.

Basil and Miss Doidge looked at each other.

‘I’m really very sorry,’ the organist said, twisting her long fingers together. ‘I’ve been worried about it for some time but I did think it had a few more services left in it. If only we’d known sooner. I blame myself entirely.’ A tear ran down her bony nose and Basil patted her arm.

‘You mustn’t upset yourself, my dear lady. Nothing can be done about it now, and we must just hope that Felix’s idea works. He’s quite right: we do have a fine choir and there are plenty of good voices in the congregation. Why don’t you go on in now and add your own voice? The more the better, you know.’

Miss Doidge sniffed, nodded and hurried in to find a seat at the back. The church was already crowded with friends and relatives of the Napier family, old acquaintances from the squire’s army days, and David Hunter’s relatives and friends from Derby, as well as many of the villagers and estate tenants. Those who couldn’t get in were thronging the village green by the lychgate which led to the churchyard, and the doors of the Bell Inn, where Bernie and Rose had done a roaring lunchtime trade, stood wide open. The sound of the bells added a joyous note to the festive atmosphere and the excitement mounted as the onlookers waited for the car which would bring the bride the short distance from Burracombe Barton.

‘And about time too,’ they told each other. ‘Poor Miss Hilary’s waited a long time for this day. Us thought her would never find the right man to wed, but he’s come along at last and they do make a lovely couple … and ’tis a bonus, him being the new village doctor, ready for when Dr Latimer retires. Made his mark already, he has. Look, here he comes now. Don’t he look handsome, in that grey top hat and all?’

David Hunter arrived in his own car with his best man, a friend from his army days whom Hilary had also known when she and David had first met in Egypt during the war. They drew up by the green and crossed the grass beneath the great oak tree, waving and smiling at the well-wishers. Basil stood by the church door, watching them with dread in his heart. He could hear Felix’s voice inside, explaining what had happened, and there was a murmur as the congregation realised what he was asking them to do. Oh, I do hope this is going to work, Basil thought again. Of all the days, and with all these grand people here to witness our humiliation … Not even to be able to play the ‘Wedding March’ …

‘Why, Basil, whatever’s the matter?’ David Hunter exclaimed, stopping in front of him. ‘You look as if you’ve all the troubles in the world on your shoulders. Has something gone wrong?’ A sudden fear quickened his voice. ‘Hilary’s all right, isn’t she? She hasn’t changed her mi—’

‘No, no, nothing like that,’ Basil said hastily. Really, when you thought about what could have gone wrong, perhaps Felix was right and the failure of the church organ wasn’t such a catastrophe after all. He explained as quickly as he could and David’s expression relaxed. He even began to smile.

‘They’re going to hum it? Why, that’s marvellous!’ David turned to his best man. ‘Have you ever heard of anything so inspired, Adam? I told you Burracombe was a very special village.’

‘I hope everyone else will think so,’ Basil said dubiously. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Colonel Napier doesn’t have another heart attack when he walks into the church with Hilary on his arm to hear the whole congregation humming like a swarm of bees.’

‘He’ll understand,’ David said robustly. ‘Don’t worry about it. Come on, Adam, we’d better go in and join in the rehearsal. Not that I’ll be able to hum a note myself. I’ll be too overcome at seeing my bride walking up the aisle to join me at last.’

The two men walked through the big door, receiving hardly a glance from the congregation who were gazing transfixed at Felix, standing at the chancel steps. He had evidently just finished his explanation and was in the act of lifting both arms as if to conduct an orchestra, so that his surplice billowed around him and he looked like an enormous white butterfly. He lowered his wings and looked anxiously at the bridegroom, speaking quietly as the two approached.

‘Has Basil explained?’

‘He’s told us all about it. I think it’s a marvellous idea. Adam here used to sing in the church choir at Sandhurst and in the regiment, so he’ll be able to join in. I’m afraid I can’t promise myself, but then I’ve got a voice like a crow anyway.’

‘I know that isn’t true,’ Felix said. ‘But it’s a relief to know you’re not upset. It’s just Hilary and her father I have to worry about now.’

‘Hilary won’t mind a bit. She might break down in giggles, of course.’

‘I hope not. She’ll start everyone else off if she does that – including me, except that mine will be more hysteria than amusement. I can’t imagine her father finding it funny, though.’

‘He’ll know it’s not deliberate and you’re doing your best,’ David reassured him. ‘Anyway, weren’t you just going to have a quick rehearsal? You’d better buck up – Hilary’s notoriously punctual.’

‘Even on her wedding day?’ his best man murmured as they took their seats in the front pew.

‘Even more so on her wedding day,’ David muttered back, and glanced behind him. He caught a glimpse of coloured dresses fluttering in the porch and knew that the bridesmaids – Hilary’s two cousins, Catherine and Sylvia, her sister-in-law Maddy and best friend, Val Ferris – had arrived. So if Stephen, Hilary’s brother, who had driven them there in the big Aston Martin, had managed to arrive on time, he was quite sure that Hilary would not be even a minute late.

Everyone seemed to be here now and Felix was lifting his arms again, beating time with both hands and counting softly to three. At the last count he began to hum and, to David’s surprise, the choir and entire congregation joined in, at very nearly the right moment, with an only faintly ragged version of Wagner’s ‘Wedding March’. It sounded rather effective, he thought, and turned to grin at his best man.

‘What are you smiling at?’ Adam demanded. ‘You’re meant to be nervous. You were like a cat on hot bricks until we got here.’

‘I was afraid the car would break down or the church disappear overnight. I was so sure something would go wrong, I couldn’t think of anything else. But now it has, and it was only the organ, so I know it will all be all right.’ He beamed. ‘My beautiful bride will be here at any minute, and in half an hour’s time, she’ll be my wife. And then nothing can ever go wrong again.’

Adam looked quizzically at him. Perhaps this, he thought, was not the moment to remind his friend that life just wasn’t like that, and it was often when it appeared to be at its sunniest that the storm clouds would gather out of nowhere. After all, people were entitled to enjoy their perfect moment on their wedding day. And even before the perfect moment arrived, they still had to get through Hilary’s arrival at the church – with her father, Colonel Napier, who, Adam knew, wasn’t a man to take a small matter like the church organ breaking down as lightly as David appeared to be doing.

I hope he doesn’t have a fit or a heart attack at the church door, Adam thought. That really would spoil Hilary and David’s perfect day.



As she stood in her bedroom at the Barton, Hilary was outwardly calm; but inside she felt as if she were about to give birth to a litter of kittens. She turned in front of the cheval mirror, twisting her body to glimpse the train that swept in a foam of satin and lace around her feet. The dress itself was a slender column that fitted her perfectly; it had a collar that stood around her neck with a glitter of crystals which matched the sparkling earrings that almost brushed it. Her rich brown hair was piled on top of her head, and the sparkle echoed in the tiny diamond tiara that had been her mother’s.

‘You look absolutely beautiful,’ Val said in awed tones as she made one last adjustment and then stood back to see the final effect. ‘David will think he’s died and gone to heaven.’

‘You’re sure it’s not overdone?’ Hilary asked anxiously. ‘I don’t want to look like a Christmas tree.’

‘You don’t look a bit like a Christmas tree,’ Maddy assured her. ‘A beautifully wrapped present, perhaps!’ She giggled as Hilary blushed. ‘Honestly, Hil, you look wonderful. And what do you think of your bridesmaids? Come along, girls, line up to be inspected!’ She stood at mock attention and the other three formed a line beside her, arms held stiffly at their sides and heads facing forward, their eyes unblinking, as Hilary turned towards them. She laughed at their stern expressions.

‘Stop fooling about, all of you! This is a solemn occasion and nothing is to go wrong.’ She glanced at the gold wristwatch that had been David’s wedding present to her. ‘Come on – we’ll be late if we don’t hurry.’

She swept out of the room, impervious to Maddy’s murmuring protest that it was a bride’s privilege to be late, and stood at the top of the stairs. Then, just for a moment, she paused, realising that this was the last time she would leave that bedroom as a single woman. When she and David returned from their honeymoon in Venice, they would move into the big room that had once been occupied by her mother and father but for years now had only been used for visitors. Gilbert himself had suggested this, for he preferred his room at the back of the house, and while they were away, a new bathroom was to be installed next door, so that they would be entirely private. From now on, the room Hilary had had since she was a child would become David’s study.

It’s all going to be different, she thought. I knew it would be, of course, and I’m happy about the changes – very happy indeed. But even good changes take a little getting used to.

She looked down the broad curve of the stairs into the hallway, to see her father looking up at her, and hoped that he, too, would embrace the changes that were to come.



Gilbert, arrayed in his best morning suit, with his grey silk topper under his arm, had come out of the drawing room and was standing at the foot of the stairs to welcome his only daughter on her wedding day.

They all seemed to have waited a long time for this day to come. If the war had not taken her first fiancé, Henry, Hilary would have been married for years by now and probably would have three or four children. Even after Henry’s death, she could very easily have found someone else to marry – she was an attractive young woman, from a good family, with plenty of connections – yet somehow it had never happened. It wasn’t for lack of effort on Gilbert’s part, but she had never shown any interest in the sons of any of his friends and gradually they had all drifted away and married other girls. But now, at last, she had found someone for herself: a man he liked and approved of – a doctor who had seen army service during the war, who had been married and widowed, and who would be of benefit to the village of Burracombe. And while David Hunter was never likely to want to manage the estate, Hilary had, when Stephen had made it clear that he had no interest in taking on the task, proved herself more than capable of being able to do it and seemed to want to continue. This was something that would never have happened if she had married and gone to live somewhere else in Devon. She might even have gone to live further afield, and Gilbert would have lost her company and help for all these years.

These thoughts, so typical of Gilbert Napier, passed through his mind as he stood waiting for his daughter to appear, but they were swiftly followed by others. For Gilbert had learned, through the past few years of illness and change, to value more than background, wealth and social position. He had learned to value more human qualities and the happiness and contentment that they could bring. Where once he had wanted a ‘good marriage’ for his daughter, he now desired her happiness more than anything else in the world, and he knew that of all the men she could have chosen to be her husband, David Hunter was the one most likely to give it to her.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and, in a cloud of pearly white that seemed to shimmer in the light cast by the sunlight streaming through the open door, his daughter Hilary appeared, with the soft blue shadow of her bridesmaids behind her. She stood perfectly still for a moment, gazing down at him, and as their eyes met he felt a sudden unexpected lump in his throat and the heat of tears in his eyes. He frowned, shook his head a little and blinked them away, then stepped forward, his hands held out towards her as she came slowly down the sweep of the stairs.

‘My dear,’ he said huskily, ‘you look beautiful. David is a very lucky man. I shall be proud to give you into his keeping.’



‘They’re here,’ Basil hissed as the two silver cars drew up at the lychgate. He twisted his hands together again in an agony of dread. ‘Oh dear … Stephen, tell Felix I’ve changed my mind – we can’t ask the congregation to hum the “Wedding March”. The colonel will never understand. Quickly, my dear chap, please … Oh my goodness …’

‘It’s too late,’ Stephen Napier said, grinning. ‘They’ve got the bit between their teeth now.’ He tilted his head as the murmur of the congregation sounded through the open door. ‘I’ll tell Felix they’re coming and he’ll make sure they start just as the bells stop ringing and Hilary comes through the door.’ He reached out his hand and patted Basil’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Harvey. It’ll all be fine, you’ll see.’

He vanished into the dim interior and Basil gazed after him despairingly, then quickly rearranged his features into a welcoming smile.

Hilary was out of the car now, assisted by Val and Maddy, who were carefully gathering the long train in their arms to carry it up the gravel path. The other two bridesmaids came behind them and Gilbert walked beside his daughter to the door where they all paused to make the final adjustments. The bells were ringing the last few changes of their peal, ready to stop the moment Ted was given the signal, and within the church itself there was an expectant hush.

Hilary gave Basil a shaky smile and slipped her arm through her father’s.

‘I think we’re all ready,’ she said softly, and then turned to her father. ‘Thank you for everything, Dad. You’ve been a wonderful father.’

Gilbert blinked again and cleared his throat. Nervously, Basil began to speak, to warn them of the change that would accompany their entrance, but Gilbert waved him to silence.

‘No more to be said now. We’re as ready as ever we will be. Let’s get on with it.’ He pushed at the church door and it moved slowly open.

‘But I must …’ Basil whispered in a desperate squeak. ‘There’s something you—’ The clamour of the bells ceased and his voice trembled to a halt. With a sense of imminent doom, he stepped in front of Hilary and her father and as the bridesmaids took up their positions behind, he preceded them into the church.

Gilbert stopped abruptly.

‘What in heaven’s name …? What on earth has happened to the organ?’

His voice was low but forceful. Hilary stared around her. She saw Felix waiting at the chancel steps, his expression unnaturally solemn. She saw David and his best man standing by the front pew, their eyes fixed firmly ahead. She saw the entire congregation, their faces rigid with the effort to restrain their smiles, their lips pressed together as if … as if—

‘Why!’ she gasped, and her own smile broke out unfettered. ‘Father, they’re humming! They’re humming the “Wedding March”! The organ must have given up at last.’

‘Whaat?’ Gilbert’s voice was still low, but there was a touch of disbelief in it, and more than a touch of annoyance. ‘You mean to say that today of all days –’

Basil turned his head. ‘We couldn’t think what else to do. Felix said it would all right, and by the time I decided against it, it was too late to—’

‘But it sounds wonderful,’ Hilary whispered. ‘It’s a lovely idea.’ She squeezed her father’s arm. ‘Come on, Dad, what are you waiting for? Take me up the aisle. I thought you couldn’t wait to marry me off!’

Gilbert pulled himself together. Looking neither to left nor right, he stepped forward and proceeded purposefully towards the altar steps. The humming, with which Felix had managed to create a surprising depth of harmony, continued as they walked and when Hilary saw her groom turn to welcome her to his side, her smile was radiant. Gilbert stepped back and David took her hand, looking deep into her eyes.

‘Hello, darling,’ he murmured, and as she whispered her own hello in return the humming faded to a silence that left only birdsong drifting through the open door and Basil, relief adding to the joy in his voice, turned to face them and began the words of the marriage service.

‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together …’











Chapter Two

‘Thank goodness it worked,’ Felix said. ‘I was terrified everyone would get the giggles and ruin it.’

‘I was terrified you’d get the giggles.’ Stella smiled, lifting her own glass of orange juice to touch his of champagne. ‘But you did really well, getting them to do it. It’s a good job you had time to rehearse.’

‘It must never happen again,’ Basil said. ‘It went very well this time, but who knows whether another congregation would be large enough to make such a good job of it – or so willing to try? It’s obvious that the organ must now be considered out of action and something urgent must be done about its repair. But how are we to manage in the meantime?’

‘Oh, that’s easy,’ Joyce Warren said, coming up to them as they stood by the drawing-room window of Burracombe Barton. ‘You can borrow our grand piano.’

Basil stared at her. ‘Your grand piano? But surely you don’t want to move that over to the church?’

‘Why ever not? It can stand in the south transept. It’s got a lovely tone.’

‘Yes, but it’s a valuable instrument, and the church is left unlocked all day. It would be terrible if anything happened to it.’

‘What could happen to it in Burracombe? You’re not telling me you don’t trust your own congregation, Basil!’

‘Of course I do. But you never know who else might be about. Visitors …’ His pink face was flushed with agitation. ‘It would be such a responsibility.’

Joyce shook her head at him. ‘No more than the organ itself is, or any of the other artefacts in the church. And the lid can be locked. Really, Basil, I’d be delighted to see our piano in the church and to hear it playing every Sunday. It doesn’t get nearly enough use these days.’

‘But that’s another thing! Who would play it? I’m not sure that dear Dorothy Doidge would. She’s a very good organist, of course, but a grand piano – I just don’t know if she’s quite capable …’ He floundered into silence and Joyce took pity on him.

‘Of course she’s quite capable. Anyone who can play an organ can manage a piano, surely. In any case, Henry’s a fine pianist and he’d be only too pleased to step in if needed. Wouldn’t you, Henry?’ She turned to her husband, who had just joined the little group.

‘Wouldn’t I what?’ He listened as his wife told him of her offer. ‘Well, of course, if you’d like me to. I wouldn’t like to tread on Miss Doidge’s toes, though. You must ask her if she needs my help first.’

‘I will.’ Basil was clearly relieved at being able to shelve the problem for the time being, but Felix wasn’t ready to let it go so easily.

‘Whatever you decide, you need to do it soon,’ he remarked. ‘You’ve got your normal services tomorrow and people might find it rather tiring to hum their way through an entire Matins. And there’s another wedding coming up.’

‘So there is – Joe and Dottie’s. But that’s not for another three weeks. You’re right about tomorrow, though, and kind though your offer is, Mrs Warren, we certainly can’t think of moving your grand piano by eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.’

‘You can bring our harmonium, though,’ Ted Tozer butted in, and they all turned to him in surprise. ‘That’s what I came over to say, vicar. Mother told me to tell you, you’re welcome to use that for as long as you needs, and she’ll play it for you too if Dorothy Doidge ain’t up to it. Not that it would be any trouble to her, after playing the church organ, but it do be a bit temperamental at times. And Tom and me could get it over and set it up first thing in the morning, all ready for morning service.’

‘That would be a great help,’ Basil said in relief. ‘Just for the time being, anyway.’ He drew in a deep breath, smiled round at them all and took a large sip of his champagne. ‘And now that’s settled, let’s enjoy the rest of this happy day. I think Colonel Napier wants us to join the guests in the marquee.’



The rest of the villagers, having gathered outside the church to see Hilary arrive and then leave again on the arm of her new husband, drifted away in the September sunshine talking of the event.

‘She did look lovely in that beautiful frock,’ Aggie Madge sighed. ‘And so happy, too. She looked as if the sun was shining right out of her.’

‘Well, she’s got the money for it,’ Ivy Sweet commented, and then as the others turned to her in indignation, added defensively, ‘I mean, anyone can look nice in frocks made in London by smart dressmakers. Not that Miss Hilary’s not a good-looking young woman, I didn’t mean that. But you got to admit, if she’d left it to Dottie Friend to make the frock …’ Her voice trailed away and became more feeble. ‘I didn’t mean nothing by it.’

‘No, but you said it just the same,’ Aggie said coldly. ‘That’s your trouble, Ivy, always got summat sharp to say about everything. You knows as well as I do that Dottie’s got a lot of experience in dressmaking and she’d have made just as good a job of it, if she hadn’t had that stroke. I hear she’s doing her own wedding costume anyway, and I dare say it will be just as good. And us shouldn’t be saying Miss Hilary no more,’ she added. ‘She’s Mrs Hunter now and entitled to her proper married name.’

‘Mrs Napier Hunter,’ Nancy Pettifer corrected her. ‘That’s what our Patsy told us she was going to be called. So the Napier name don’t die out.’

The others were diverted from their annoyance with Ivy Sweet. They paused on their way down the church path and stared at her. ‘But wasn’t young Rob going to take the name?’ someone asked. ‘I thought the colonel wanted him to be in charge of the whole estate when he grows up.’

‘You’re behind the times, then,’ Nancy said. ‘That wasn’t no more than a flash in the pan. His mother put a stop to it, said she wanted him back in France. Miss Hilary – Mrs Napier Hunter – wanted to go on running the estate, with Mr Kellaway helping her and I reckon the colonel saw she was making a good job of it and settled for that. Good job too, if you ask me – you don’t know what that French tacker would have done if it had been left to him. He could have split the whole place up and sold us off wholesale, for all us knows.’

‘Well, that won’t happen now,’ Aggie Madge said comfortably. ‘Burracombe looks safe for a good few years yet and us got a new doctor as a bonus! I reckon it’s all turned out better than anyone could have wished for. Mind you, us haven’t seen the last of young Rob and his mother. They came over for the wedding after all, and very smart she looked too, in her Paris hat.’

‘They’re still family,’ Nancy pointed out. ‘She was married to the colonel’s son in the war, and Rob’s his grandson. You can’t get away from that.’

The others nodded thoughtfully. Marianne’s unexpected arrival two years earlier with her son, who looked so much like Gilbert Napier’s elder son Baden, lost at Dunkirk, had caused a stir throughout the village, and it had seemed for some time that the inheritance would pass to him. But it all seemed to have been settled eventually, although none of them knew the details, and Rob, who had for a few weeks attended the nearby Kelly College, had gone home to France. The squire’s experiment in trying to turn him into an English schoolboy had failed, and nobody except Gilbert himself had been sorry. And even Gilbert’s disappointment had diminished as he accepted at last that his daughter could run the estate as well as any man, and would stay at