‘Good Lord!’ he said. ‘Are you my father’s seventh and most beautiful wife?’
Pilar slipped down and came towards him.
‘I am Pilar Estravados,’ she announced. ‘And you must be my Uncle Harry, my mother’s brother.’
Harry said, staring:
‘So that’s who you are! Jenny’s daughter.’
Pilar said: ‘Why did you ask me if I was your father’s seventh wife? Has he really had six wives?’
Harry laughed.
‘No, I believe he’s only had one official one. Well—Pil—what’s your name?’
‘Pilar, yes.’
‘Well, Pilar, it really gives me quite a turn to see something like you blooming in this mausoleum.’
‘This—maus—please?’
‘This museum of stuffed dummies! I always thought this house was lousy! Now I see it again I think it’s lousier than ever!’
Pilar said in a shocked voice:
‘Oh, no, it is very handsome here! The furniture is good and the carpets—thick carpets everywhere—and there are lots of ornaments. Everything is very good quality and very, very rich!’
‘You’re right there,’ said Harry, grinning. He looked at her with amusement. ‘You know, I can’t help getting a kick out of seeing you in the midst—’
He broke off as Lydia came rapidly into the room.
She came straight to him.
‘How d’you do, Harry? I’m Lydia—Alfred’s wife.’
‘How de do, Lydia.’ He shook hands, examining her intelligent mobile face in a swift glance and approving mentally of the way she walked—very few women moved well.
Lydia in her turn took quick stock of him.
She thought: ‘He looks a frightful tough—attractive though. I wouldn’t trust him an inch…’
She said smiling:
‘How does it look after all these years? Quite different, or very much the same?’
‘Pretty much the same.’ He looked round him. ‘This room’s been done over.’
‘Oh, many times.’
He said:
‘I meant by you. You’ve made it—different.’
‘Yes, I expect so…’
He grinned at her, a sudden impish grin that reminded her with a start of the old man upstairs.
‘It’s got more class about it now! I remember hearing that old Alfred had married a girl whose people came over with the Conqueror.’