Her eyes were brilliant. I could see that she was following them in her thoughts; she was facing the hazards, and I knew that all the time she was seeing herself side by side with Dickon.

“It is some years since Sir Walter Raleigh found a fair land which he called after Queen Elizabeth—Virginia. It lies a long way across the ocean. They talk of Virginia.”

“It was a colony,” I said, “and is now abandoned.”

“It is a rich land of fruits and plants and trees. Perhaps it will be there that they will settle. They will build a new country where men shall be free to follow their religion.”

“Providing,” I added, “it does not conflict with that laid down by the puritans.”

Senara looked at me seriously for a few minutes and then she burst out laughing.

“Oh, it is not for the religion, Tamsyn. It’s not whether we shall genuflect twenty times a day or make our knees sore by kneeling on a stone floor. What do I care for that! It’s the adventure. It’s glorious. To set out like that … not knowing whether you were going to die on the way. The dangers one would face. That’s what I care about.”

That, I thought, and Dickon. I was very uneasy wondering what would become of her when Dickon went away.

The next day the violent storm of the previous night had abated. Two things happened. There was a whipping in the Seaward courtyard.

Merry told us about it, her face distorted with misery. She would, I knew, be remembering the occasion when her own Jan Leward had been so degraded.

He had offended the master, this last victim. It was a terrible occasion. The men of Seaward had been commanded to assemble in the courtyard to watch. The women would not look. They set about preparing ointments and bandages to deal with the sufferer when he was untied from the post and dragged unconscious into the Tower.

The whippings took place rarely, which no doubt made them more to be feared than if they were a commonplace occurrence. The last one had been Jan Leward. I knew that Merry had never got over it and because of this misdemeanour my father had refused them permission to marry for another year. He had told Jan, so Merry had reported to Senara, that he did not want two disobedient servants and until Jan had proved his loyalty he could not marry.

I had watched Merry’s face sometimes when my father’s name was mentioned and I saw the bitter hatred there.

All that day there was a hush over the castle and everyone was talking about the whipping. A few days later there was good news. We had a visitor. He wanted to see my father and thank him personally. On the night of the storm he had all but been wrecked on the Devil’s Teeth. He had in time seen the warning lights; but for that his ship battered by the devastating weather would undoubtedly have foundered. It was like an act of God. He had been making straight for the rocks and then he saw the warning light in time. He had reason to be grateful to the Casvellyns.

The cargo he carried was one of the richest he had ever handled. Gold, ivory and spices from Africa.

He sat drinking with my father all through the day and he announced that he was sending several barrels of finest Malmsey for the enjoyment of my father’s servants.

When I thought about it I realized that I had been the one to light the lanterns. I couldn’t resist telling Senara about it. Merry came in while we were talking.

“It’s a wonderful feeling,” I said, “to have saved that ship. Someone forgot to light the lanterns that night. I thank God that some instinct sent me up there at the right moment.”

Senara and Merry were looking at me intently.

Merry said: “So it was you.”

“Why,” cried Senara, “the Malmsey should be yours.” She added: “If you mention it there would be trouble.”

I thought I knew what she meant. Of course there would be trouble. The fact that I had found the lanterns unlit meant that someone had failed in his duty. A slip like that could have cost many lives.

We wanted no more whippings in the courtyard.

A week or so later there was news from Lyon Court. My grandmother was ailing and it seemed long to her since she had seen me.

My father said I might go to see her and for once Senara did not insist on accompanying me. I believed this was due to the fact that if she did she would not be able to pay her now regular visits to Leyden House and so miss seeing Dickon.

I found my grandmother frail but she seemed to revive a great deal when she saw me.

Spring often comes early to Devon and we were able to sit in the gardens. I was happy to be with her but sad to remember how my mother had loved to feed the peacocks and how they used to come to her with a sort of disdainful air to take the peas she offered them.

My grandmother wanted to hear about life at the castle and I happily told her of how I had found the lanterns unlit in the tower and my action had saved the ship. She thought that was a wonderful story and made me repeat it many times. She asked about my father and my stepmother and whether they seemed happy together.

I supposed they were. My father was not the kind to suffer in silence and my stepmother was difficult to know but she was as she had always been.

And Senara?

“Senara is interested in a puritan family who have come to live nearby.”

“Senara and puritans! That’s incongruous.”

“Senara is so strange. Sometimes I feel I don’t know her.”

“Yet you are fond of each other.”

“Yes, as sisters.”

“You are closer to her than you are to Connell.”

“I suppose it is because Connell is a boy. He and I have never had anything in common.”

“And Melanie?”

“I am growing fond of her. She is so kind and gentle always. I hope Connell will be good to her.”

“Is he not?”

“They are rarely together. Connell hunts and is with my father a great deal.”

“And is there any sign of a child?”

“I have not heard.”

“I expect Melanie is hoping. And what of Fenn Landor?”

I was silent.

“Has he not been to the castle?”

I looked beyond my grandmother to the tall hedge which shut in her pond garden.

“No,” I said, “he has not been to the castle.”

She was frowning. “There must be a reason.”

“Oh, I think there was some speculation. He did not like it perhaps.”

“Speculation?”

“Yes,” I said boldly, “about me. It seemed to be in everyone’s mind that we should marry … everyone’s except Fenn’s.”

“Something must have happened,” said my grandmother. “I’ll swear he was in love with you.”

I shook my head.

“Let us not speak of it, Grandmother,” I said. “I would rather not.”

“No good comes of brushing something aside because it is hurtful to look at.”

“What is this?” I cried. “It has happened so many times. Two people become friendly and those around them think they must be going to marry.”

“Did you think it, Tamsyn?”

I could not find the words to explain and it was so hard not to betray my emotion.

My grandmother went on: “I wanted it to happen. To me it would have meant such compensation. I wanted your mother to marry his father and when young Fenn appeared and you and he seemed so suited …”

I said in a cool voice, “He went away to sea without letting me know. He has come back without seeing me. It’s clear, is it not?”

“No,” said my grandmother firmly. “There must be a reason.”

“It is all clear to me,” I said. “Fenn has been deterred by all the hints of marriage.”

“I shall send a message to ask him to come to see me,” she said.

“If you do,” I retorted, “it will be necessary for me to go back to the castle before he arrives here.”

She could see I meant that. So we sat and talked of old times. She spoke of my mother when she was a little girl, and when she was very tired she would doze off. She liked me to sit beside her so that I was there when she woke up and often in those first moments when she was coming out of her sleep I knew that she confused me with my mother.