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Updated: June 15, 2025
'No woman cares to see, she used to say, 'she wants to be seen. And so the lights at Bowshott were always arranged in such a way that the beauty of women should be enhanced by them. Plain faces softened under the warm glow which had no hard shadows in it, and beautiful faces were lighted up in a manner that was almost extravagantly becoming.
At parting she was too glad to have met Lady Falconer, trusted that if ever she cared to see a collection of tiresome pictures she would come to Bowshott, and hoped that if the gardens would be of any interest to her she would drive over some afternoon when it was not too hot, and have tea with her any afternoon would do. Had Mrs.
Wrottesley had to write the note over again. Foiled of his morning's occupation the canon walked up to Bowshott himself with Mrs. Ogilvie's card of invitation. Mrs.
'Why didn't you come to Bowshott, you ass, if you are ill? said Peter sternly. 'You will kill yourself some day coming down to this half-warmed barn in the winter-time. 'It isn't half warmed, said Toffy. 'I wish it were! This room is all right, isn't it? I aired another sofa by sleeping on it last night. 'What on earth for? demanded Peter, still in a tone of remonstrance.
When Peter came back from Spain he came to an empty house. The big reception rooms at Bowshott were swathed in brown holland and dust-sheets, pictures were covered and carpets rolled up, giving an air of desolation to the place.
Jane, with her wholesome love of outdoor life, her fresh beauty, her heedlessness of learning and ignorance of books what had Jane in common with Mrs. Ogilvie in her Parisian gowns and with her dyed hair, sitting in the vast drawing-room at Bowshott reading the Court Journal and thinking on the lines of the speculative philosophers? And even to Jane Erskine her manner was cold.
The proximity of the two events had helped to gain for the quiet countryside the reputation of a gay neighbourhood. Country houses were filled with visitors, and the ballroom and the famous picture-gallery at Bowshott received an even larger number of guests than usual. There was something impressive in the great space and width of the ballroom, with its polished floor.
Bowshott is a very old house, so old that, if it had not been for archaeologists, who came there sometimes and read the grey stones as though they had been printed paper, no one would ever have known when the earliest part of it was built.
'I can't believe it's not mine, he said aloud, as he drove up the long avenue from the station in his dog-cart, with one of the famous Bowshott hackneys in the shafts. 'I can't believe it's not mine! Many people might have found in the singular unhomeliness of the big house a just cause for withholding their affection from it, but Peter had always loved it.
Miss Sherard had been shooting duck in the marshes below Bowshott, where Peter had given her leave to shoot when she liked; and she came towards the house now, a miniature gun over her shoulder, and clad in a brown shooting dress, with a knot of her favourite colour under her chin.
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