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  “Then you will certainly enjoy riding my horses,” Sir John declared.

  Melita smiled.

  “I will race you and because I want to show what a good rider I am I will do everything I can to beat you.”

  “And I will do everything that I can to prevent you doing so,” John replied teasingly.

  They had both laughed at the idea.

  Now, when just as he was beginning his breakfast, the door opened and Melita came in.

  She was wearing a riding habit that he thought must have originally been his mother’s. But it fitted her and she looked very smart.

  “I hope you have kept your promise,” Melita said, “and that the horses will be waiting for us as soon as we have finished breakfast.”

  “And I have ordered two of my best mounts to be brought round,” Sir John told her. “I will be extremely hurt if you don’t admire them.”

  “You know very well that if they are your choice I will see that they are the best available,” Melita replied. “Like everything else in this house.”

  “I cannot help but keep saying that it is all due to your father,” Sir John mused.

  Melita went to the sideboard to help herself from the silver dishes, which contained eggs, bacon and fish.

  When she carried her plate back to the table, Sir had picked up the morning newspaper.

  In an angry voice he exploded,

  “Damn the Press!”

  “What is wrong?” Melita asked.

  “They have somehow got hold of your father’s will and have described you as ‘one of the greatest heiresses of the period.’ And they have added a lot of nonsense about me.”

  Melita sighed.

  “I knew that it was impossible after I had met my family for them not to talk. You know as well as I do that whichever country you are in there are always newspapers who want to get a good story if it is possible.”

  “Well, it is a bad story as far as we are concerned,” Sir John said. “I can assure you that every fortune-hunter in the country will be calling on us and, as they have stated the amount of money you inherited, you will be the focus of every column in every newspaper until they find another story of interest to talk about.”

  He was speaking harshly and Melita laughed.

  “It’s no use being angry,” she said. “Papa told me a long time ago that the Press was either your friend or your enemy and he preferred them as a friend.”

  “So what you are inferring,” he replied, “is that if they come here you are ready to talk to them and doubtless offer them my best wine.”

  “Of course we must,” Melita asserted. “Otherwise it would be stupid of us to send them away so that they will say nasty things about us instead of nice.”

  She paused for a moment before she added,

  “After all there is nothing wrong in being rich.”

  “It can be very tiresome, as you can expect to have a mountain of begging letters and people knocking on the door praying for your help.”

  Melita gazed at him and then she remarked quietly,

  “We must help them.”

  There was a moment’s silence before he asked,

  “Do you really mean that?”

  “Due to Papa you and I have both benefitted from his kindness, his understanding and, of course, the amount of money he has spent on us. Naturally in return we have to do something for those who have not been as lucky as we have been.”

  Again there was silence and then Sir John said,

  “You are right but I don’t know of anyone else who would think it their duty to help those less fortunate than themselves when it comes to actual pounds, shillings and pence.”

  “I expect we can help them in other ways,” Melita said. “If they come knocking on our door I will feel that it is my duty to save them from whatever they are suffering. It is the only real way I can say ‘thank you’ to Papa for all he has done for me.”

  Sir John sighed.

  “You are right, but I don’t know of anyone else who would think the same way.”

  “If we are unique, then perhaps others will follow us,” Melita replied. “Then the world will be a little fairer. After all it is wrong that so many people should be rich and so many more very poor.”

  Sir John thought that this was a very extraordinary conversation to be having with a woman and certainly one he had never had before.

  As they went on talking, he found it very touching that Melita was so grateful to her real father for all he had done for her.

  “I only wish,” she said, “that I could say he was my father. But, as you are the only person who is aware of it, you know it is the one matter that we have to keep secret.”

  “Of course it is,” he agreed. “Your family would be very shocked and a lot of people would be upset and become active enemies because your father, although he was very rich, was handicapped by being a half-caste.”

  “I realise all that,” Melita replied. “That is why we must try to do what is right and what is good. As I have said often in my prayers, I know that God will help us.”

  She spoke naturally and Sir John thought it very touching that a young girl, so beautiful and so rich, could speak of God as if He was a distinct and important part of her life.

  ‘She is certainly unique,’ he thought to himself.

  He threw the newspaper which had annoyed him so considerably on the floor.

  ‘I will not think about it again,’ he told himself. ‘I will leave it to Melita and she will doubtless manage it as she wishes to do.’

  They hurried over their breakfast.

  And then they found the horses which Sir John had ordered for them at the front door.

  Melita was thrilled with her mount and she patted him and talked to him for quite some minutes before she allowed Sir John to lift her onto the saddle.

  “Now I am going to take you into my special wood, which I loved when I was a child,” he told her. “But first we will ride through the orchard and I think you will enjoy seeing the trees heavy with plums, damsons and in a month some really delicious apples.”

  He smiled before he added,

  “It was my mother who chose these trees soon after I was born. They have now grown up as I have done and I think that you will admire them as well as enjoying their produce.”

  “You are remembering,” Melita said, “that I told you I longed to see an English orchard. It was what I read about in the Convent, but thought that I would never see one and certainly would never own one.”

  “Well, now one of your wishes has come true,” Sir John retorted as he led the way through the flower garden, which was a riot of colour, into the orchard.

  As he expected, Melita was thrilled with the fruit trees and he had some difficulty in taking her away from them.

  They trotted towards the wood which he knew that she would find as exciting as he had as a child.

  They then galloped over a field to a stream where there was a small wooden bridge.

  They rode over it carefully because it was easy for the horses to slip.

  And then there was the wood and Melita was totally fascinated by it.

  She was certain that fairies were lurking in the trees and mermaids in the pool in the middle of it.

  They rode carefully and slowly over the path which was somewhat overgrown.

  It was then they came out at the end of the wood into a large field.

  “Now we must gallop,” Sir John said to her. “I defy Bracken, which you are riding, to beat Samuel.”

  Later he had to admit to her that it was a very near thing.

  Because Melita rode perfectly he was sure that she was as good on a horse as he was.

  As they pulled up at another row of trees, he said,

  “I had no idea that you would be able to ride so well. I really thought when we were coming to England that I would have to teach you. Now I am not so sure that you will not have to teach me!”

  Melita grinned.

  �
�You know that you are extremely good,” she said. “What Englishman is anything else but happily at home on a horse? My father used to say that it was all the English blood in me that made me ride so well and that he wished, if for no other reason, he had been born an Englishman.”

  “I think he did very well as he was and everyone was always exceedingly grateful to him like us on these superb well-trained horses.”

  “I love mine,” Melita said. “But I would like to ride every horse in your stable before I make up my mind which one I will ask for every morning.”

  “It will take you some time. But now I want to show you the second wood, which is very different as it is hiding a heavy stone rock from the house which has a story all of its own.”

  “Oh, tell me! Do tell me!” Melita begged him.

  As the horses were now walking, Sir John began,

  “Many years ago at the time when my great-great-grandfather was in residence, he believed that there was gold hidden somewhere in the garden. I am not certain whether he thought it was a natural seam or whether it had been put there in Roman times.”

  He paused and Melita encouraged him excitedly,

  “Go on!”

  “He was determined that the rock had something to do with it. He therefore dug and dug until he had made himself an enormous cave into which he could go to seek the gold he hoped to find.”

  “How fascinating!” Melita exclaimed. “Did he find anything?”

  “I don’t think he ever did. But at least he made it a place where I could play hide-and-seek when I was a boy and, of course, when I heard the story of what he dug for, I also looked for the gold.”

  “But you did not find any?”

  “No, all I found were horseshoes which I assumed had been taken there for luck and a lot of stones which I was quite sure were really gold, so I dug them up to show my father.”

  “Was he impressed?” Melita asked.

  “Not at all. He laughed at me and said, if my great-great-grandfather had been such a fool, there was no point in my being one too.”

  “Oh, that was unkind when you were trying to be so helpful!” Melita exclaimed.

  “That is right and that is what I was trying to do,” SirJohn replied. “We were so poor then and I thought that perhaps by some miracle the gold would still be there and I would find it.”

  “But you did not find it.”

  “No, I found Gavron Murillo instead,” Sir John replied, “and who could ask for anything better than that?”

  Melita smiled.

  “He would like to hear you say that, so we must say it very often, if only to ourselves, simply because I am sure that he is listening and is thrilled that he has been able to do so much for so many.”

  “You are quite right,” Sir John agreed at once.

  When they dismounted, Melita saw around the cave and in front of it were a number of sunflowers.

  She looked at them in some surprise as they were not what she expected and Sir John explained,

  “My dear mother planted them. As so much time was always spent looking at the cave and digging in it, it was very ugly. So she planted the sunflowers around it, although they are not so thick on the other side.”

  “They certainly seem beautiful beside such a rough cave,” Melita commented.

  “Well, don’t brush against them as they will leave yellow pollen all over your riding habit and the servants have always told me that it is very difficult to brush off.”

  Melita laughed.

  “I thought there would be a snag somewhere when the sunflowers look so pretty.”

  They entered the enormous cave and realised that there was no question of there being anything else inside it except small stones together with one or two larger ones, which had obviously been put on one side to be inspected very closely in case they contained gold.

  They did not stay there for long.

  “It’s a waste of the sunshine,” Sir John said, “and I have a great deal more to show you.”

  They mounted again and rode slowly back.

  As Melita looked ahead at the magnificent house silhouetted against the sky, she said unexpectedly,

  “There is one thing missing here.”

  “What is that?” Sir John asked.

  So many people had told him that everything was perfect since they had done the repairs and alterations, he could hardly believe that she could find anything wrong.

  “There is one thing that I believe everyone should have in the home, which I was surprised that you did not have in London, but I was certain would be here when we arrived.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Sir John protested. “What is missing?”

  Just for a moment it annoyed him that she could find anything wrong with what to him was sublime.

  “You have marvellous horses,” Melita explained, “and I want to ride every one of them. But where are your dogs?”

  “Dogs!” Sir John exclaimed.

  “I always thought that an English gentleman was surrounded by dogs and they followed him everywhere and slept in his room.”

  Sir John laughed.

  “That is certainly a picture that I suppose has been painted over the centuries. You are quite right, there should be dogs here and there were dogs.”

  “What has happened to them?” Melita questioned. “I have not seen one since I came here.”

  “My father had three Labradors of which he was very proud,” Sir John told her. “But I am afraid that when they died he could not afford the time to have any more.”

  He paused before he added,

  “Also I think he felt that they would never be as good as the ones he had lost.”

  “And you never wanted a dog?” Melita enquired.

  “I wanted one when I was a small boy,” he replied. “I used to be so jealous of my friends who had Spaniels and all sorts of dogs that followed them about and which they played with endlessly.”

  He sighed as if he was remembering how much it had hurt him at the time.

  “Why did you not have dogs when you could afford them?” Melita asked.

  “I will now tell you why,” Sir John said a little impatiently. “A dog always wants to be with its Master or Mistress and it is impossible, as you know, to take them abroad.”

  There was silence for a moment before he went on,

  “The one thing I wanted to do more than anything else was to travel and now I can afford it and see the world, which Gavron Murillo explained so often to me when he was visiting my father and which to me was as exciting as any story I could read.”

  “So you could have a dog or two now that you can afford it?”

  “I still want to go abroad,” Sir John told her, “and to leave a dog would tear my heart out, just like leaving a lovely woman.”

  He paused again.

  “Worst of all, as you know, a dog is not allowed into the country unless it is put into quarantine for some months. I am sure that they don’t understand and it must break their hearts to be in some nasty kennel thinking that their Master does not care for them anymore.”

  “Now you are making me want to cry,” Melita said. “And, of course, I would never have a dog if I wanted to travel and might be abroad for a long time.”

  “Now you have said exactly what I wanted you to say,” Sir John replied. “Although I don’t have a dog at the moment, I promise you, if we settle here, which I hope we will want to do, we can have as many dogs as you want.”

  Melita’s eyes lit up.

  “Do you really mean it?” she asked.

  “Of course I mean it. But certainly we must look after them and love them and not leave them, otherwise it will break their hearts.”

  As he spoke, he knew that he wanted her to stay.

  He could not explain it to himself.

  But he suddenly felt that things would not be the same in the future if she was not there to praise everything and to be as excited as she had been this morning when he had ta
ken her round the house.

  Most of all he knew if he was honest that he had enjoyed their ride together more than he had enjoyed any ride for years.

  ‘Of course she will have a dog,’ he said almost angrily to himself because he wanted to alter his train of thought.

  They rode a short distance further before he said,

  “This afternoon I have to see some of my farmers and, of course, the Manager of the Estate.”

  “I will explore by myself,” Melita suggested. “It will be very exciting as I am thrilled by everything I see.”

  They had luncheon and Melita enjoyed every dish which the cook had prepared for them.

  She insisted, when they had finished, on going into the kitchen to tell her just how delicious every course had been.

  “It’s not usual to do that,” Sir John said, thinking of his mother.

  “I will not do it every day,” Melita replied. “But today is a very special day as it is my first day here and I know that is exactly what they will want to hear.”

  Of course she was right.

  The cook was delighted that she had enjoyed every dish and, as Melita had learnt, those in the kitchen wanted to see her closer than they had managed to do when she was hurrying either up or downstairs.

  She shook hands with everyone and told them how thrilled she was to be at The Hall.

  She had always been told that no one could cook roast beef as well as the English and plum tart had also been something that she had wanted to eat but no one could do it the same way.

  “I assure you,” she said, “we had very simple food in the Convent where I was brought up. I now feel spoilt and delighted whenever I see cream has been added to the dish I am about to eat.”

  “You shall have all the cream I can get for you, my Lady,” the cook said smiling.

  “Then if I get very fat, it will be your fault and also mine for being so greedy,” Melita laughed.

  The girls in the pantry stared at her admiringly and, when they left the kitchen, Sir John said,

  “That was very kind of you and something no one here could possibly have expected. I do realise how much pleasure you gave the cook, who has been with me for nearly twenty years now.”