Chapter Sixteen
Arabella set up her easel and gazed at the scene in front of her. The estate was spread out at her feet: the parkland and woodland in their different shades of green, the mellow honey-colored Priory tucked in its sunny hollow, the lazy glint of the brook, the broad windswept hump of Blackdown. And above, a blue sky with a few wisps of white cloud.
She hummed as she prepared her paints. Such a beautiful place, this. Magically beautiful. The days ran together, full of sunshine and beauty. Even when it rained, the Priory still felt as if it was bathed in sunlight—the golden stone, the beauty, the sense of safety.
There was so much peace here: in the cloister where roses unfurled their petals and filled the air with their scent, in the walled gardens behind the Priory where
