Page 68 of Ironvine

She held the cup and saucer out to him.

“Thank you.”

She sipped her tea. “Tell me more about Laurent de Mont Clare and his vineyard.”

“When Henry VIII ruled, over a hundred vineyards were recorded in England, a number of which produced wine for the royal household. At least that is how the legend goes. My grandfather had told me the tale, and his grandfather had told him, and so on.”

“And Ironvine was one of those vineyards?”

“It was.”

Her eyes doubled in size. “What an achievement.”

“Laurent did well. For a short time, at least. Eventually, it came to naught or to not much wine. The weather turned colder and wetter, epidemics of mildew, and then of course plagues came and went. In the end, it became too difficult an enterprise for the following generations. The vine did not survive.”

“That is a shame.”

“But even as he tended his vineyard, Laurent continued to offer his expertise to the wine trade, selecting, importing, and the like. Bristol was quite a centre of trade even then. The first Lord Ryvves was considered one of the finest connoisseurs, and if he approved…well…”

“So he remained in royal favour?”

“He did. He had a great many noblemen at his fingertips.”

“I like that he persevered in his chosen field. That which interested him the most. I imagine he married and had children.”

“The monk had seven children, in fact—and all with his wife.”

“A virtuous Earl of Ryvves.” She let out a laugh. “Good for Brother Laurent.”

“Yes, good for him.” He rose from the table and pointed to a small painting on the wall between two large landscapes. “Here they are—the first Earl of Ryvves, his Countess, and their spawn.

She went to the painting and studied it. “It’s quite remarkable. The detail. Something about it that is so familiar to me…”

“Holbein painted it.”

“Holbein, who painted Henry VIII himself? Oh, Charles, what an honour for your family.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Georgina’s mouth fell open. “What a rich family history you have.”

“History or legend, no one is quite sure any longer. The entire wine-producing business cannot be verified. As successive generations took over, each with its own interests, and as the grape became harder and harder to sustain, farming and livestock became the vital backbone of Ironvine, and wine became a myth from our distant medieval past.”

“Why the iron in Ironvine?”

“For the iron mines in the Forest of Dean, which abuts one edge of our lands. Brother Montclare’s wife was a daughter of a local Freeminer, who was also a royal favourite.”

“Was she? The Freeminers here were the bravest and hardiest warriors for many a medieval campaign against the French. The very best archers in the land,” said Georgina.

“I see we are well versed in our local history?”

“My governess was a local lady and very proud of our history. It’s beautiful really…”

“What’s that?”

“How Laurent honoured both himself and his wife with the name of his estate.” She poured more tea for them both. “I like your ancestor very much, Charles.”

“I suppose he could have given the estate some florid French name, eh? Thank Providence, he did not.”

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