TWENTY-ONE
We departed at daybreak and arrived at Holmwood Hall in time for luncheon, and we enjoyed a cold collation while we waited for Lord and Lady Godalming.
Our late arrival had thrown everything out of whack, or else they would have been there to greet us. As it was, they had been in the village for the morning, parsing the usual arrangements for Christmas and New Year’s Day with the vicar of St Bartholomew’s. There would be a bevy of Van Helsings in town for the holidays, and times had to be set aside for a Catholic Mass after the Anglicans had done their do. A few older people objected every year and were overruled; nobody much minded, as long as the majority of the popery was confined to the Hall. Dutch was better than Austrian, after all.
Arthur Holmwood, Lord Godalming, swep
