High on a hill, on a very large plot of land in Leicestershire sits a beautiful castle name Belvoir (pronounced “Beaver”). It has been the home of the Manners family and the Dukes of Rutland since the early 1500s. Prior to that, from the middle 1200s until the direct line of the family died out in 1508, it belonged to the de Ros family. This was a group of my numerous knightly ancestors. At that time, it was a Norman Keep. The current castle is the fourth to be built on the site.
As part of a 1997 visit to England, we did a small group multi-day tour out of London that included a private visit to Belvoir. It is still a private home, but they do have tours and occasionally allow filming at the castle. It is both magnificent and homey at the same time with spacious, luxuriously decorated rooms for entertaining and cozy rooms for the family. It is another of my favorite castles.
We were shown around the place by the butler. The Duchess came by while we were gazing at the famous Holbein painting of Henry VIII. She chatted for a few minutes and then went on her merry way.
One of my favorite rooms was the very large Entrance Hall filled with arms and armor. I know some people find it odd for a woman to like antique weapons, but I do. It’s like holding a piece of history in your hand. So I have a few daggers, pistols and swords that I have picked up here and there on my travels. Some are real. Some are reproduction. All are American Civil War or earlier and remind me of where I was when I got them (and, for the real ones, who might have owned them before).
The tradition of afternoon tea began at Belvoir in the 1840s because the time between lunch (at around noon) and dinner (after 7pm) seemed too long for a visiting Duchess. So they came up with a meal of tea, scones, sandwiches and desserts to tide them over. Usually when I have a high tea at about four or five in the afternoon, I’m much too full to have any dinner. Back in those days it seems they used to really pack the food away.
We spent the night in Nottingham. After a quick visit to the castle in the morning, we headed for Haworth in Yorkshire — home of the Bronte sisters (Charlotte, Emily and Anne). Their father was the curate of the church and the family lived at the parsonage, which was across the graveyard from the church. The graveyard surrounds the house on two sides and the moors on a third. It’s a pretty atmospheric (read “gloomy”) place. I could definitely picture Heathcliff and Cathy meeting out there on the moor — despite Wuthering Heights not being my favorite Bronte book (that would be Jane Eyre).
There were six children in all. The two eldest girls died pretty young from tuberculosis, which they caught at boarding school. Both Charlotte and Emily had been sent to the same school but were brought home when their sisters died. The school was the model for the boarding school in Jane Eyre.
The only boy in the family was Branwell. He became addicted to a combination of alcohol and laudanum (a type of opium) and spent a lot of time in the Black Bull Pub, which was not too far from the house. It is next door to the church. I wonder if Daddy Bronte came over from the church from time to time to check on his wastrel son.
It seems the girls had enough imagination to transport themselves elsewhere and enough talent to write it all down. Poor Branwell, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be able to escape his drab existence other than through alcohol and drugs. A real shame. We were able to spend some time exploring the church, house, cemetery, and a fair amount of the village. So I felt I soaked it in pretty well.
From Yorkshire we went over to the Lake District to Grasmere, where we spend a couple of nights at the Prince of Wales Hotel. It had once been a manor house and was built around 1855. The hotel was right on the lake and a short walk into the village. It looked like a hotel I had once seen in a Sherlock Holmes movie.
Our room was up on the top floor of the newer wing, added after it became a hotel. There were three floors in the oldest part of the hotel and four in the newest, so we looked out over part of the roof. We were told that it rained every night in the Lake District and then cleared up every morning, which was one reason why everything was lush and green. I have to say that the two nights we spent there, it did just exactly that.
The full day we had in the Lake District began with a very short walk over to Dove Cottage, which was in a cluster of old cottages very close to the hotel. William Wordsworth had lived there from 1799 to 1808. Then we went up one of the taller hills (more like a short mountain) to see the view. From there, we drove by Beatrix Potter’s home and on to Ambleside on Lake Windermere for lunch and a boat ride on the lake. Apparently some of the pilots in the RAF like to buzz the Lake District, especially Windermere. So we had a loud jet pass overhead while on the lake. Rather startling and kind of ruined the mainly Victorian vibe.
Before returning to Grasmere for the afternoon, we visited Ullswater, considered by many to be the most beautiful of the lakes. You won’t get an argument from me. Put me next to or on a lake with mountains all around and I’m a happy camper. My blood pressure automatically goes down and I feel calm and restful. I also get a smile not easily erased.
After being dropped off at the hotel for free time for the remainder of the afternoon, several of us decided to hike into the village to explore. On the way we encountered sheep, sheep and more sheep. Among them were several baby lambs. That did it. We were all waylaid by the side of the road, trying to coax the babies to come close enough to be petted. This didn’t interest them at all. Some of them looked over at us and then turned their backs to trot off after their moms. Most didn’t even look. Didn’t even care why these strange-looking beings were calling to them. After a while we gave up and wandered on down Stock Lane into the village.
Although a small village, there are enough tourists to account for the number of shops, cafes and tea houses. After poking into a few shops and having a cream tea (the lighter version of tea with scones — no sandwiches or desserts), Mom and I headed back to the hotel. By this time, the lambs were near the fence and gave us a greeting as we strolled up to them. We were alone, so they probably figured it was safe to be friendly. A couple of them even stuck their little faces out through the fence. As we would with a dog, we held our hands in front of their noses for them to sniff. When they didn’t run away in terror, we gave them scratches on the tops of their heads. That seemed okay with them. They trotted off happily and we trotted off happily.
