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asked.
    “My father was told it burned down, but no one’s really sure. The records for the first half of the nineteenth century are missing, and somewhere around that time the house was reduced from a very large country house to an impressive but much smaller farmhouse. I suppose some really in-depth research would bring the facts to light, but none has ever been done.”
    “There’s no information at all?”
    Jenny shook her head. “Quite a mystery. The lost mansion, eh?”
    “Yes.”
    Jenny looked at the engraving. “You can’t see from this, because it was done before the canal was started, but there’s a tunnel through the hill beneath the house. It’s three miles from end to end, and was once the longest tunnel in the world—it still is one of the longest, and is going to be restored soon. Anyway, let’s get to that tea!”
    Laura glanced a final time at the engraving, especially at the stream and the pool where the elders would grow. Right now she felt Sir Blair Deveril as tangibly as if he stood at her shoulder. And it was a far from unpleasant sensation.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Jenny’s father was a very large, unexpectedly reticent Dubliner with a taste for Sibelius, and her mother was a tiny, outgoing Glaswegian who adored jazz, but they went well together, and couldn’t have made Laura feel more at home. Their ground-floor private apartment was next to the kitchens at the rear of the hotel, and as Laura accepted a cup of tea, she noticed the coat-of-arms on the stone mantelshelf.
    She smiled at Mrs. Fitzgerald. “That device seems to be all around the house,” she said, nodding toward the carving.
    “Yes, my dear. It’s quite fascinating, isn’t it? Someone said it was a play on first names, but I couldn’t say for certain.”
    “Really? Who told you?” Laura was keen to find out all she could.
    Jenny’s father smiled. “It was probably Gulliver Harcourt, since he appears to be the font of all wisdom in Great Deveril.”
    “Gulliver Harcourt?” Laura queried.
    “The area’s resident know-it-all,” Jenny supplied a little acidly.
    Her mother frowned. “Don’t be unkind, dear.”
    “Well, he may be supposedly confined to that electric wheelchair of his, but he manages to be everywhere like a rash.”
    Her father laughed. “I know what you mean,” he agreed.
    His wife was cross with them. “Poor old Gulliver’s just lonely, that’s all, and he goes out to meet people. But you’re right about one thing, he was the one who told me about the names.” She looked at the carving. “I’ve tried to think what names they could be, but I can’t come up with anything, except perhaps something hippie like Moonbeam and Harvest Spirit.” She laughed.
    “Celina and Blair,” Laura murmured.
    Jenny’s mother didn’t hear. “It was also Gulliver who told me the house was once much bigger. We didn’t believe him until we found the engraving. Goodness, is that the time?” She looked at her husband. “Come on, we’d better get on with things. Jenny, you look after Laura. You know which room she’s to have, so take her there when you’re ready, then you can both enjoy a leisurely dinner. The entire menu is yours to choose from. It’s a pity Alun isn’t here at the moment, but Denise, his protégée, certainly is and will, I’m sure, live up to our Michelin stars.”
    A little later, Jenny showed Laura to the beautiful second floor room set aside for her. It was situated at the end of a corridor, with views to the front of the building, and was clearly among the best the hotel had to offer, unless one had a suite. Furnished in soft shades of blue and cream, it enjoyed every modern comfort while maintaining the original Georgian furnishings and atmosphere. It was a warm and luxurious haven from the dismal January evening, which in this part of the house could be heard blustering beyond the double-glazed windows.
    There was an antique four-poster with slender pillars and powder-blue