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he told her, rather stiffly. “I forgot that there are certain things about our marriage I must respect.”
    “Such as?”
    “Your right to your own feelings,” he told her roughly, and she was silent. Had he guessed her feelings?
    Colouring, she walked ahead of him.
    “We have very little time, Francis. Shall we check the bedrooms?”
    Their own bedroom was a huge place as different from Mrs. Wyatt’s as possible.
    “It hasn’t been changed over many years,” Francis told her. “It was my father’s and grandfather’s. Mother never cared for it, so she chose her own further down the corridor.”
    “I see there’s little to be done to it, from your report here,” said Anne, leafing over the pages.
    “I thought it unnecessary,” said Francis.
    “Nevertheless, I would like to make one or two small changes,” said Anne, her chin firming a little. She had no idea why she was asserting herself in this way. In its own way the bedroom was perfect, but it had rather sombre overtones, not in keeping with a happily married young couple. “That is, unless you’d prefer me, too, to choose another bedroom further down the corridor.”
    Their gazes locked and she saw Francis turn white.
    “You must do as you wish,” he said stiffly. “You are mistress here. You are entitled to your own wishes over the matter of ... of a bedroom.”
    It was a hollow victory. Anne inclined her head, feeling that she had gained nothing and feeling, too, that she had somehow hurt Francis. But she didn’t know what to say to put things right between them.
    “I take it the girls have been allowed their own choice with regard to their rooms?”
    “Certainly. This is one of our guest bedrooms. There are three more on this floor. We’ve turned part of the top floor into a flat for the Hansetts, Tom and Jessie.”
    “I’m glad of that,” smiled Anne, with relief. She had quite enough to digest at the moment. “I take it that they, too, are happy with their own decorations?”
    “They were all freshly done two years ago when the gardener’s cottage was condemned. It hadn’t been built to stand the test of time, as has the Hall,” said Francis rather dryly.
    “And they like the flat ?”
    “It’s warm and comfortable ... and convenient. They can use the back stairs to the kitchen. I’ve asked Tom to show you over the gardens when I go. It isn’t so difficult to keep as it looks, with a good rotary mower and well laid out beds and shrubberies. Besides, the ground round the house has been much reduced. We let the park and fields beyond for pasture land. My sister also breeds young horses and Shetland ponies. She has the use of all the stables, and pasture lands to the west of the house.”
    “She’s very young for that, isn’t she?”
    “She’s been riding since she was a baby.” Suddenly he smiled. “I’m sure Helen will be happy to show you the ponies. They are the great love of her life.”
    “I’d like that,” said Anne, rather shyly, and he took her hand again.
    “I know it isn’t easy for you, dear, but you have my ... my gratitude for all you are doing.”
    But she didn’t want his gratitude, thought Anne forlornly, as they walked back down the polished stairs with the red carpeting running down the middle. She wanted his love. How different it would all be if they could claim stewardship of it together.
    “And remember, you mustn’t let my mother overrule you,” he told her firmly. “ She ... she has her own ideas, ideas which my father was at great pains to modify. She mustn’t be allowed to order improvements which are not in keeping with the house.”
    Anne said nothing. Soon she would be on her own, after Francis went. However would she manage to keep Mrs. Wyatt from giving whatever orders she wished in her own home?
    Not hers ... mine, thought Anne. My own house.
    But it wasn’t hers. It was alien to her. Even Francis was sometimes alien to her. What had she done? wondered Anne, as her feet again