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Authors: Michael Innes
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terrace.
Castles are not properly provided with terraces, or not of a formally balustraded kind. But Mullion had been adorned with this amenity by filling in part of the moat on the south side. Lord Mullion went into a routine of his own about this. The moat, he explained, was quite bogus, after all. It had been dug out at the time the Wyndowes had been allowed to crenellate, and licence for that had come only when castles were pretty well finished, anyway. Even Prince Rupert hadnât been fool enough to think to hold Mullion; he had persuaded the sixth earl to cede it gracefully, and had followed this up by himself briskly winning several minor skirmishes in its neighbourhood. Boosie said that this hadnât amounted to much, and that extensive reading had brought her to the conclusion that the Cavaliers had been a pretty button-headed lot. Wily peers had gone with the other crowd, like the people over at Broughton Castle in the next county. Patty said that a family ought to stick by its own order, and a lively debate â this time blessedly impersonal â followed. Honeybath began to wonder whether the repose essential for the labours of artistic creation was going to be readily obtainable at Mullion Castle. But he was a man rather short of acquaintance among the spirited young, and was disposed to be well contented with his entertainment so far.
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In the early afternoon Lady Mullion took Honeybath round the castle. It was a little tour made with a minimum of historical expatiation, and would probably have been regarded as inadequate by any of the hard-working ladies who performed the job on a professional basis on Wednesdays and Saturdays. But then oneâs friends, as distinct from oneâs customers, are not to be regarded as avid for their pennyworth of information. Faintly in Lady Mullionâs attitude, too, there could be detected a feeling that there wasnât, after all, a great deal to show off. Mullion Castle was an interesting old place, and she had with a proper marital loyalty become extremely fond of it. But a medieval castle, even when it had been given an Elizabethan face-lift on one façade and some further Jacobean flourishes here and there, remained a slightly quaint place to live in. Honeybath felt a mild puzzle here until he recalled Lady Mullionâs own background. The Wyndowes werenât all that in the way of ancientry, the original Sir Rufus Windy himself being very much a post-Conquest man. Even so, they were a whole lot older-established than Lady Mullionâs own family, which had bobbed up only under Queen Anne. Then, however, it had bobbed up fast and far, and for many generations now had dwelt amid a Palladian magnificence unexcelled in England. So deep in Lady Mullionâs mind was the thought that Mullion Castle was a kind of cottage orné in which it was rather fun to perch in a consciously modest way.
It was, however, clear to Honeybath that the small expedition, from which the rest of the household had absented itself, had been contrived for the purpose of introducing him less to his surroundings than to a closer acquaintance with Lady Mullion herself. His mission, or commission, being as it was, this was entirely sensible, and witnessed on the ladyâs part to a sound instinct as to what portrait-painting was about. It wasnât that she felt herself in any aggressive way as having a personality to exhibit. She knew perfectly well, indeed, that Honeybathâs own personality was as important a constituent of the proposed exercise as her own. There was a rapport to establish, and this was as pleasant a way of establishing it as any offering.
âThere must have been a certain liveliness here at that time,â Lady Mullion said when they were examining some of the memorials of the brief tenancy of the castle by Prince Rupert, Count Palatine of the Rhine. âI never much care for being away from Mullion, but we do have a quiet
Castles are not properly provided with terraces, or not of a formally balustraded kind. But Mullion had been adorned with this amenity by filling in part of the moat on the south side. Lord Mullion went into a routine of his own about this. The moat, he explained, was quite bogus, after all. It had been dug out at the time the Wyndowes had been allowed to crenellate, and licence for that had come only when castles were pretty well finished, anyway. Even Prince Rupert hadnât been fool enough to think to hold Mullion; he had persuaded the sixth earl to cede it gracefully, and had followed this up by himself briskly winning several minor skirmishes in its neighbourhood. Boosie said that this hadnât amounted to much, and that extensive reading had brought her to the conclusion that the Cavaliers had been a pretty button-headed lot. Wily peers had gone with the other crowd, like the people over at Broughton Castle in the next county. Patty said that a family ought to stick by its own order, and a lively debate â this time blessedly impersonal â followed. Honeybath began to wonder whether the repose essential for the labours of artistic creation was going to be readily obtainable at Mullion Castle. But he was a man rather short of acquaintance among the spirited young, and was disposed to be well contented with his entertainment so far.
Â
Â
7
In the early afternoon Lady Mullion took Honeybath round the castle. It was a little tour made with a minimum of historical expatiation, and would probably have been regarded as inadequate by any of the hard-working ladies who performed the job on a professional basis on Wednesdays and Saturdays. But then oneâs friends, as distinct from oneâs customers, are not to be regarded as avid for their pennyworth of information. Faintly in Lady Mullionâs attitude, too, there could be detected a feeling that there wasnât, after all, a great deal to show off. Mullion Castle was an interesting old place, and she had with a proper marital loyalty become extremely fond of it. But a medieval castle, even when it had been given an Elizabethan face-lift on one façade and some further Jacobean flourishes here and there, remained a slightly quaint place to live in. Honeybath felt a mild puzzle here until he recalled Lady Mullionâs own background. The Wyndowes werenât all that in the way of ancientry, the original Sir Rufus Windy himself being very much a post-Conquest man. Even so, they were a whole lot older-established than Lady Mullionâs own family, which had bobbed up only under Queen Anne. Then, however, it had bobbed up fast and far, and for many generations now had dwelt amid a Palladian magnificence unexcelled in England. So deep in Lady Mullionâs mind was the thought that Mullion Castle was a kind of cottage orné in which it was rather fun to perch in a consciously modest way.
It was, however, clear to Honeybath that the small expedition, from which the rest of the household had absented itself, had been contrived for the purpose of introducing him less to his surroundings than to a closer acquaintance with Lady Mullion herself. His mission, or commission, being as it was, this was entirely sensible, and witnessed on the ladyâs part to a sound instinct as to what portrait-painting was about. It wasnât that she felt herself in any aggressive way as having a personality to exhibit. She knew perfectly well, indeed, that Honeybathâs own personality was as important a constituent of the proposed exercise as her own. There was a rapport to establish, and this was as pleasant a way of establishing it as any offering.
âThere must have been a certain liveliness here at that time,â Lady Mullion said when they were examining some of the memorials of the brief tenancy of the castle by Prince Rupert, Count Palatine of the Rhine. âI never much care for being away from Mullion, but we do have a quiet
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