The Country Girl

Chapter 1.

You there! Girl! The gentleman peremptorily addressed the girl from the vantage point of the saddle of his horse. She was clearly not a peasant; her clothes were clean and well-made although functional rather than decorative and she had the appearance of a farmer's wife or the daughter of a local tradesman. Her face was in shadow as she had a hood drawn up over her head against the cool of the January evening, but he had the impression that she was neither frightened nor annoyed by the manner of his address and was waiting for him to continue. When he saw he had her attention he asked, Where the devil am I and which of these two roads leads to Bisley?

You are in Eastcombe Sir; although I should not think you will find the name on any map; it is a very small village and well off the main roads. As for which road to take to Bisley, you can go either way. The young lady thus addressed had the satisfaction of seeing the rider's eyes narrow in surprise at the sound of her voice. He had clearly been expecting a broad Gloucester drawl but received instead a soft and well-spoken response. However, she continued, you will find the road on the right easier to follow as it is the straighter.

The gentleman swung himself down from the saddle and looked around, grimly noticing how dark it had become. He had been riding all day, having started that morning from the home of his good friend Sir Richard Hoare some miles outside Shepton Mallet and he was very tired. Normally a mere fifty miles riding in a single day would have troubled him not at all, but he had taken what he had thought to be the direct route after Bath rather than the main road and this had proved to be a large mistake. He had lost his way so many times among the narrow lanes of Somerset and Gloucestershire that instead of now being ensconced before the fire at Sheepscombe Rectory with his Sister and Brother in Law, his face warmed by the fire burning in the parlour and a fine brandy in his hand, he was faced with the prospect of riding an unknown distance, along unfamiliar roads and in the dark. In the summer, this would have been an uninviting prospect but in early January with the ground frozen, a bitter east wind and the sky starting to disgorge a few flakes of snow, he realised continuing would be foolhardy.

Although he was a senior member of the peerage, the gentleman did not usually address people in terms which emphasised the difference in their rank. While he could command if necessary, he had always found that a polite and reasonable request was a much more effective method for securing whatever it was that he wanted. Among his staff, he had a reputation for politeness and consideration, and among his friends he was universally regarded as devilishly good company. His momentarily lapse in autocratically addressing this unknown female who had no obligation to help him whatsoever and from whom he had received a helpful response, was thus already playing on his mind. Being cold, tired and frustrated did not, in his estimation, amount to an adequate excuse for his lack of courtesy.

Is there an inn in this village? the Gentleman asked in friendlier tones. I fear if I continue on, I shall surely become lost again. As I have spent most of the day lost, while it is not now an unfamiliar sensation, it is not, even so, an entrancing prospect. He smiled and there was an apology in it. The smile was returned.

Indeed Sir, my father was used to assert that there is a road around every field in these parts. Those of us who live here have become very used to rescuing bewildered travellers. She threw him an assessing glance and then answered his question, there are a number of inns locally, but might I suggest that, while it is not the height of fashion – you would have to travel a considerable distance in these parts to find an inn with any pretence to that - the only establishment nearby which could accommodate a gentleman is the Red Lion.

The gentleman looked around. He could see along the road for some distance and there was a small country church and a row of solidly-built stone houses bordering the road, candlelight already showing through the gaps in the shutters, but nowhere could he see the welcoming sign of a country inn. He looked ruefully at his companion.

I hate to ask but...?

I'm going that way myself Sir, she interrupted, it is but a short walk and you would surely become lost again if I attempted to give you directions.

I stand considerably in your debt, Ma'am, the gentleman nodded at her, thankfully accepting the offer, If you will lead on? The Lady turned and set off along the left-hand road at a brisk pace. She was, he thought, used to walking distances. Moreover, she seemed at ease talking to a complete stranger, and he wondered if she was older than he supposed. After half a minute or so he broke the silence. We ought to be introduced, he ventured; then adding, I'm St. Austell. The lady stopped and shot a piercing look at him;

The Marquess of St. Austell? she asked.

The very same, he bowed slightly in acknowledgement and then after a second or two asked in a surprised tone, you have heard of me? He did not keep a high profile and, while he was well known in his native Cornwall: that anyone so far off the beaten track would have heard of him, was somewhat unexpected.

I saw your name a few years ago. The unknown Lady did not appear remotely disconcerted by unexpectedly finding herself alone on a deserted road in the company of a very senior peer. You were a guest of Earl Bathurst at Cirencester House. And no, she anticipated his next question, I was not invited. We do not move in those circles; but I do have an old copy of Burkes Peerage and I can read.

I find, St. Austell grinned deprecatingly, it gratifying that my notoriety has preceded me even to such a remote locality as this, and then added as an afterthought, and that my entry in Burkes peerage was informative. I must read it sometime. But you have me at a disadvantage Ma'am. You know my name; may I not know yours? He thought a moment, and how comes it about that you knew I was a guest of Bathurst, but you were not yourself present?

I am perfectly sure that his Lordship has never heard of me, she laughed, and I would have no idea how to go on in such august company as may be found at an Earl’s House party. As for my name, she attempted a curtsey, although St. Austell, used to the polished perfection of society ladies, thought the movement looked awkward and unpractised, Eurydice Mary Sinclair at your service.

I beg your pardon! St. Austell exclaimed, and then flushed as he realised his reaction was somewhat rude, I mean... Fortunately the lady did not appear to have taken offence as he heard her chuckle, it is a somewhat unusual name is it not? he asked in a relived voice.

My father was unfortunately addicted to the classics, explained his companion. I have older sisters called Persephone and Hypatia. We call them Poppy and Patience. My two younger brothers are sadly afflicted with Sophocles and Euclid. I think my eldest brother has the heaviest cross to bear, he is called Agamemnon. Thankfully, my mother insisted on giving us unexceptional second Christian names and I usually answer to Mary.

While St Austell was contemplating this unusually open and candid speech, his guide turned left and led him into a narrow lane which ran steeply downhill between high stone walls. Periodically a gate would appear through which could be seen tidy stone cottages and houses clinging, apparently precariously, to the slope. He quickly realised she was right, on his own he would rapidly once more have become hopelessly lost. He looked around. It was now completely dark, and the walls and houses all assumed such a degree of sameness that he was unable to mark out anything which would serve him on the morrow as a pointer.

I am, as you predicted would be the case, wholly disoriented. He considered that, as a minimum courtesy he should continue to engage her in conversation and therefore asked, is your father a Scot? I only ask as it is so unusual to find a Sinclair without a Scots accent. I'm vaguely acquainted with Lord Caithness myself.

You ask a lot of questions Sir. Miss Sinclair's smile robbed her words of any offence. My father passed on some eight years ago. Seeing he was about to make the customary response she added, it was a long time ago and we have all grown used to it. There is just Mama and I at home now. She paused to ensure that he understood condolences were not required and then answered his question. According to the Family Bible we are related, but only remotely, to the Earl. I should be extremely surprised if he has heard of us, we are a minor branch indeed and would not presume to claim the connexion. Besides which, I suspect each one of our noble families has branches of the family tree it would prefer to forget.

Very true, St. Austell remembered some of his distant relations, and indeed some not so distant, whom he would much prefer not to acknowledge, I have quite a number myself. They walked on in silence for about half a minute until Miss Sinclair, who did not appear to suffer from any of the shyness natural to a young lady turned to him once more.

Are you visiting friends in Bisley? I am very well acquainted with most, if not all of the families who might expect, she smiled satirically, to be honoured by a visit from you, but I cannot recall any of them ever mentioning that they knew anyone whose station in life was quite so exalted as a Marquess. She appeared to consider the matter, the odd baron certainly, even a Viscount or two. But never a Marquess.

I know a few odd Barons, too, some of them are very odd indeed. He heard her chuckle loudly, In fact I am in this locality to visit my Sister; her husband is the Rector of Sheepscombe.

I knew it. Miss Sinclair exclaimed, much to the surprise of her companion. I knew she was more than that.

Er... more than what? St. Austell was feeling his way.

More than just the Rector's wife. Miss Sinclair shook her head and then added almost to herself, So that is what she has been hiding.

You know, St. Austell observed, I haven't the remotest clue what it is you are talking about. What is it that Lady Diana De'Lacey has been hiding from you? A thought came into his head and an extremely wary expression came across his face, and perhaps you had also explain how you come to know her?

I have known Mrs, she emphasised the title, De'Lacey any time these last eight years although I was but a girl then. I helped her become acquainted with everyone when she and her husband first moved into the rectory and there was always something about her, something indefinable that I could never place. I have just this instant worked out what that indefinable something is. She works as hard as the Rector, but she has a grace and assurance which everyone respects. Her opinion carries more weight in this community than does the Squire's. It is because she is the sister of a Marquess. Did you know Miss Sinclair asked, that she has never revealed she is the possessor of a long established and honourable title?

Why ever not? The Marquess wondered aloud, considerably surprised by this intelligence.

Well of course I do not know... but I should think it is so that she does not place herself above her husband, thus undermining his position; or put too much distance between herself and his parishioners.

St. Austell considered this shrewd comment. Miss Sinclair was probably right. His sister might have looked as high as she wanted for a husband, but having once met him, only the Reverend James De'Lacey would do. Some ten years ago she was staying with friends when the eldest son of the house returned from his grand tour. Two years earlier De'Lacey, on the strength of his academic achievements and long friendship with the family had been engaged as escort and had performed his duties with distinction. When the son returned so did De'Lacey.

Upon her return to Austell Park, Diana had earnestly entreated her brother to support her case with their father and, as he could see she was blissfully happy, he had done so upon the condition that she accept a settlement against the possibility of widowhood. From the day of her marriage, Diana had shown herself utterly committed to her husband and had, without ever appearing as a managing female and, whenever she could, remaining behind her husband, pulled every string upon which she could lay her hands and used every connexion she had to further his interests. De'Lacey's career had prospered, he had secured the living from quite a number of parishes and although they lived in as remote a location as could be imagined anywhere in England, the couple were now reasonably comfortable.

At this point St. Austell rounded a corner and, not twenty yards in front of him, he saw the Lion of England hanging from the front wall of a substantial building proclaiming they had reached their destination. Before they could reach it, a large man opened the front door and, lifting his lantern, peered down the street. He had heard St. Austell's horse plodding along behind him and had opened his door in anticipation of arriving business. The landlord's face broadened into a smile;

Why Miss Mary, he exclaimed, what brings you here at this time of night? The landlord had the broad accent that St. Austell had expected to hear previously from his intriguing guide, and who is this Gentleman?

This is the Marquess of St. Austell. Miss Mary smiled at the Landlord, I found him at the top of Vatch Lane hopelessly lost and in need of a good supper and a warm bed. She turned to her companion, and now Sir, having commended you into the care of Mr Nuttall here I must bid you good night. She curtseyed once more; again, he noticed that the gesture lacked grace, nodded to Nuttall, and strode off. Within but a few seconds she had been swallowed by the gloom.

That evening St. Austell relaxed in the room to which he had earlier been conducted. The quality of the hospitality was much better than he had been expecting from a country inn in such a remote location. The food was very well cooked and presented and mine host kept a more than passable cellar. He therefore assumed, despite its remote location, it must have a history of catering for the local aristocracy. Upon enquiry, he discovered that the hostelry had started to develop something of a reputation locally and he had his escort of earlier that day to thank for his welcome. The Landlord explained that Miss Mary's credit locally was immense and that any guest recommended by her could expect the best this house had to offer. Furthermore, she had provided the landlord with sound advice as to the service noble guests might expect, so that on the occasions when his premises were patronised by ‘the Quality’ he knew what to do.

He reviewed the events of the day but, although his frustrations had been many, his mind kept returning to his new acquaintance. He had many questions. She was obviously a lady of some quality, but she dressed in the manner of the wife of a tradesman. She was comfortable in conversation with him and appeared not a whit discomposed by the discovery of his station in life. She appeared to be quite young and yet she seemed to have the experience of a much older woman. Then again, she appeared to be on good terms with the landlord of a local inn, something which would, at the very least, have caused raised eyebrows among most of the ladies with whom he usually associated. He also realised that they had each understood the other very well even when they had communicated without words and it was not long after that he admitted to himself, even though they had only been in each other's company for a few minutes, he was strongly attracted to her. This surprised him. While he treated them with courtesy, he had never been one to conduct an affaire, discrete or otherwise, with women not of his own order. Yet he was conscious of an inexplicable desire to meet with her again. As he drifted off to sleep his last thought was of a broad smile and a pair of expressive eyes.

St. Austell was awake early the following day and although he looked for her, Miss Sinclair did not put in an appearance. He discovered however, that although he considered himself, by reference to his peers, to be an early riser, in a contest on such matters she had him well beaten. She had delivered a carefully drawn map of his route to the Rectory and handed it to the landlord before the Marquess had even left his chamber.

Secure in the knowledge that he would no longer become lost and with a whole day to travel less than five miles, he decided to take his time. He was enchanted with what he saw. The weather had cleared overnight and in place of the thick fog and flakes of snow of the previous evening, the sky was clear, and the country basked in the warm glow of the winter sunshine. There were green fields bordered by dry stone walls covered with lichen and mosses, tiny villages and hamlets of no more than a few sturdily built houses and rolling hills with deep valleys and dense woodland. The fields carried more sheep than he had ever seen and, even though it was still early in the year, he could see that their fleeces were little short of luxurious. He had heard that the local town of Stroud had a reputation as a wool town where fine cloth was woven, and he now saw that repute had not lied.

He arrived at his destination a little before midday to be greeted warmly by his sister, with more reserve by her serious husband and with unfettered joy by his two nieces and one nephew all of whom had regarded him, almost from the moment of their birth, as a dependable source of indulgencies. His sister having been embraced and the children indulged, St. Austell sat down in his Brother in Law's study nursing the brandy which had been calling to him since he left Shepton Mallet more than a day earlier,

So, Richard, Reverend De'Lacey shot an enquiring look at his guest, What brings you to our humble abode so soon after Christmas? We had not looked to see you until March at the earliest. When you wrote to inform us of your visit Diana, was convinced some awful, but unspecified, disaster had befallen you. It had always been St. Austell's habit to visit his sister for a couple of days on the way to London for the season and therefore the Reverend had some cause for his surprise. Tell me immediately my friend, have you lost your fortune on 'change or recklessly gambled it away? St. Austell grinned at his host. His mercurial sister's mood swings were legendary in the family. While generally the most cheerful of people, unexpected news would inevitably have the effect of convincing her that doom and disaster awaited just around the next bend or alternatively drive her into a month's frenetic activity. Just as suddenly and unpredictably the mood would lift, and she would once again be her normal enthusiastic self. It was the opinion of the St. Austell family that marriage to the calm James De'Lacey had steadied her greatly.

How is she? St. Austell deliberately kept his voice quiet as his sister had been known to express herself in a more than forthright manner if she discovered she had been the subject of a discussion occurring in her absence. You are good for her, you know?

We are all well after an attack of the measles which laid waste to the family including, I regret to say, my good self. It is embarrassing to fall victim to an illness most people experience before their tenth birthday. He fixed his guest with a determined stare, but I repeat, what on earth are you doing in deepest Gloucestershire in January?

The Marquess' expression became serious.

I need your advice, St. Austell said bluntly. Since his sister's marriage, the Marquess had come to know his reserved Brother in Law very well. While he enjoyed his books, he was no ascetic and was more than happy to be torn away from them for other enjoyments particularly if they involved his young family. He was a thoughtful and considered man and rarely advanced an opinion unless he knew something about the subject. When an opinion was forthcoming it could be relied upon. As far as St. Austell knew he had never been proved wrong about anything and where there were sometimes alternative views, De'Lacey always acknowledged them and accorded them the respect they were due. He had carried honours at Oxford and had later been made a fellow. He could have remained there had he wished and had a celebrated academic career but that was not where he wanted to be. When the Marquess required sage counsel, it was to James De'Lacey that he inevitably turned.

Anything you need my friend. His host rose to ensure the door was firmly closed. No-one would even knock on the door unless it was an emergency. While his wife and children had the run of the house and garden, the study was the Reverend De'Lacey's sole preserve. No one entered it if he were not there, not even the servants, and while he would very often write his sermon with one or other of his children sitting upon his knee watching his flowing pen skate over the papers all the family respected his privacy if the door was closed. What is troubling you? St. Austell did not reply immediately, merely looking pensively into his glass.

I am approaching forty years old. He began slowly, most of my estates are entailed and my heir is my cousin, the son of my father's younger brother. He looked, up a troubled expression upon his face, this would not in itself concern me except for the fact that the Honourable Giles has no love for the estate or respect for those who work upon it. He would bring it to ruin in a matter of years with no remorse at all. As my heir, I make him a quarterly allowance of five hundred pounds, it is never sufficient to last him until the next quarter and I am frequently called upon to er... tow him out of river tick. When I tried to discuss this with him, he told me bluntly that he had no need to study economy as on my death he would have all the money he might ever need. He was kind enough to reassure me that while he was not living in daily expectation of my demise, I was becoming older, and he did not anticipate having to wait more than fifteen years before coming into his inheritance. De'Lacey's ordinarily passive countenance showed his disgust at this. Quite so. St. Austell continued, It clearly behoves me to marry and beget an heir of my own thus cutting Giles out of the succession. Therein lies the problem.

You don't mean to tell me, De'Lacey's scepticism was written all over his face, that you can find not one lady prepared to step into the shoes previously so admirably occupied by your mother and assume the rights and privileges of the Marchioness of St. Austell? He paused, not to mention Countess of Barnstable and Bideford and Baroness Storrington. Didn't I hear that there was some lady called Carding or Cardworth... or something? Diana said she was stunningly beautiful?

Cardew, St. Austell confirmed, and she is very beautiful. The family live a few miles from Austell Park. I have known Elizabeth since she was a girl. She followed me round like a lost lamb when I was down from Eton. He grinned nostalgically, I didn't see her for a few years after I went on my grand tour and I rarely visited Cornwall but when I finally returned, I found the scrubby schoolroom miss I used to tease mercilessly had transformed into a spectacular young woman. The tables were turned with a vengeance. He grimaced at the reversal in their roles, I then followed her around for a couple of years. I must have been very tiresome until I finally worked up the courage to proffer my suit. She turned me down flat. She told me that she was far too young to marry and moreover although she liked me very much, she wanted excitement. I was too much of a slow top. In common justice, I must admit that a man would have to run very fast to keep up with Elizabeth Cardew. We meet now as old friends.

Be that as it may, De'Lacey's face clearly showed that he had some difficulty in believing that any sane female would turn down the chance to be Marchioness of St. Austell, there must be many eligible ladies who would be flattered to receive an offer from you.

De'Lacey's scepticism was understandable. Richard Henry Ainsly John Mathan, 9th Marquess of St. Austell, Earl of Barnstable and Bideford and Baron Mathan of Storrington, was an extremely wealthy man. He was moreover thought to be particularly good looking and although he was neither addicted to sport nor, overmuch, to his tailor, he was generally held to be a safe partner whether on the dance floor or at the card table. Understated was the word most usually applied to describe him. He was not a member of Waiters or Whites, maintaining only Boodles as his sole club membership, although he was on friendly terms with quite a number of the Bow-Window set. He did not box and never visited Jackson's saloon but that did not stop him from enjoying the company of the Corinthians. He dressed well although he was not prepared to pay the astronomical prices charged by Weston or Hoby, but he numbered many of the London smarts among his friends.

He was known to be a careful steward of his fortune and estates and was regarded as a safe and trustworthy man with whom to do business. He did not gamble to excess, but he was no ascetic either. He had quietly helped friends out of difficult circumstances and had stood up as second three times in disputes of honour, although never once as principal. He could be seen everywhere; but as he did not put himself forward, he was also easy to overlook. He disliked loud noises and fashionable squeezes and generally avoided those places where he might be subject to either. He spoke French and Italian and could read Latin and Greek as easily as his own Language, he had applied himself at Oxford and, unlike many of his peers he had spent his time on his grand tour sketching, practicing his sword play and visiting those places which the classics so vividly described. He was courteous to a fault, not given to freaks and had never engaged in the larks many young men of his generation had found so amusing. No watchman had anything to fear from him, he had never thought it amusing to become too foxed to get home without assistance and he had been a dutiful son and was still a reliable and supportive brother.

With the ladies, he was thus extremely popular. A damsel who managed to secure him for a quadrille or waltz at Almacks considered herself fortunate to have done so. He was an attentive companion who could be trusted to escort a lady to an evening's entertainment without ever crossing the line. He was a good listener and did not bore his companion with endless tales of the hunting field or descriptions of the finer points of his horses and he could draw out the shyest of debutante or verbally fence with her mama with equal ease.

The worst that could ever be said about The Marquess of St. Austell was that he was rather unexciting and some of the livelier maidens had been known, quietly, to complain that he was such an unexacting companion that he was, in fact, rather boring. Even these ladies would not have hesitated if he had offered for them. A Marchioness was a person of some note. He was predictable, safe, considered and, as he ruefully acknowledged, he was aware of becoming more so as he grew older.

Unfortunately, this reluctance to disturb his carefully planned life also made him somewhat reluctant to introduce a wife into it. He viewed the prospect of marriage to a determined lady who would no doubt want to move his furniture around, decorate all his rooms in the modern taste and who would expect him to attend upon her at those venues he was most desirous of avoiding, with acute disfavour.

All that said, St. Austell knew very well that his life, as much as it suited him, could not continue for much longer or he would have become so set in his ways that he would become unable to even contemplate the thought of marriage. Furthermore, he was fiercely proud of the inheritance handed to him by his father and built up over several centuries by the eight previous Marquesses and before them, a series of Earls; the thought that his failure to marry might be the cause of the loss of that inheritance was playing on his mind. It was, he had decided, time to face up to his responsibilities, marry and set up a nursery.

The last occasion upon which I met Elizabeth Cardew, although I had not again mentioned the matter, she took the opportunity to inform me that she was still not yet ready for matrimony. She was kind enough to admit I was an unexceptional choice for a husband and explained that, when the time was right, she would, at that point, be more than happy to consider me for the post. I am not entirely sure whether she was being serious or not, but I gather she thought I should take her candour as a compliment. He smiled thinly, She is a very beautiful woman, but I cannot wait upon her convenience and now, having been refused twice, one hesitates to proffer one's suit again. As far as other females are concerned, if I did not care to whom I was married I could find a bride with no difficulty at all, there have been so many applicants for the position that there were times when I was almost buried under the caps thrown in my direction. He hesitated before shaking his head uncertainly. He sighed, I saw how you looked at Diana when you met her and how you still look at her ten years later, I would have thought that you at least would understand that I do not want to marry just any female. If I am proposing to commit my life to Miss Cardew or any other unknown lady, I should at least be disposed to like her more than any other female of my acquaintance.

Has there been no-one else to whom you could see yourself married? De'Lacey now sounded more sympathetic.

When I was younger, perhaps, St. Austell admitted, there were any number of very pretty girls I fancied I might marry, but I wanted to hold out for something more than a vague appreciation of the lady concerned. Those same pretty girls have become redoubtable matrons and I do not regret passing them over in the least. Now, he grinned ruefully, I find I have little in common with ladies twenty years my junior. Those ladies who are no longer in the first flush of youth and who might be persuaded to consider my suit have eyes only for my purse. I consider myself singularly unfortunate to not have encountered one female who raised in me any feeling greater than modest friendship. The two men looked at each other in silence for a long time while De'Lacey considered the matter.

You are right, he concluded, shooting his Brother in Law a piercing look from under his brows, "you must marry. Diana has been saying this to me any time these last five years and cannot understand why, if only out of desperation, you have not more energetically proffered your suit in Miss Cardew's direction. Faced with the stark choice between marriage to you now, or no marriage at all, despite what she said last upon the last occasion the matter was broached, she might see her position somewhat differently. And then, with age comes maturity. She might now consider those very qualities which she once saw as unexciting in a young buck are just the qualities a lady looks for in a husband. She has many advantages, not least that she knows you well and would not object to being sequestered in Cornwall for most of the year.

I should use blackmail to secure myself a bride? Richard asked, not at all sure this was a solid basis upon which a union for life should be based.

There is that of course, James nodded conceding, without saying so, that there was an element to his suggestion which was distinctly unsavoury, but you need an heir, and you need one soon. For that you must have a wife.

Even were I able to reconcile it with my conscience to make an offer in those terms; the Marquess ventured not without humour, if the pace with which Miss Cardew chooses to live her life has slowed down with maturity then I confess I have yet to see it. She is still the beauty of the county and as unattainable as ever. I find it exhausting just to watch her.

I wonder, James paused a second to carefully consider his words, If it is truly the case that Miss Cardew is unavailable, his expression made it plain that he thought if his Brother in Law really wanted to succeed with this Lady, he would have few problems, have you been looking for a wife in the right place?

I'm sorry, St. Austell was pardonably confused, if not in London, where then should I look for a wife? I had understood that the raison d'être of the London season was to provide a forum for eligible young men and young ladies to meet?

I merely suggest that the London season attracts, exclusively, members of the nobility who can afford the cost of remaining in town for several months. They also consider that the balls, routs, assemblies, parties and soirees which are the inevitable constituent parts of the London season are the most appropriate places in which to find a spouse. Perhaps the lady you should marry cannot be found in such a setting?

You are of course right, the Marquess sighed, I never thought of that. But, he paused, If I am not to find a wife in London, where the devil will I find one?

My friend, De'Lacey slapped his guest on the back, That is your problem... but don't take too long thinking about it.

No more was said about the matter, but it was clear from the thoughtful expression upon his countenance that St. Austell had been given food for thought. Two days later he was sitting with his Sister and her husband vaguely listening to their conversation and pondering what he should do next. Diana was describing her satisfaction in securing the services of a maid that she had only that day engaged;

...she told me that she had learned her lessons from Mary Sinclair and produced her reference. Well, as you can imagine, I engaged her the girl there and then. Good Lord! Diana exclaimed as her brother shot out of his chair as if burned, whatever made you sit up like that?

Who is Mary Sinclair? her brother demanded without preamble.

Whatever do you want to know that for?

Is she the local schoolmarm?

Have you met her?

There appears to me, De'Lacey's calm voice interrupted them, to be two conversations in progress here. To avoid a fraternal squabble perhaps I might be of assistance? He looked at St. Austell. To answer your question Miss Mary Sinclair is the youngest daughter of one of our neighbours. It surprised me to hear that you even know of her as I would have thought she is wholly unknown outside this locality. I can perhaps provide you with more information, but I should like to know, have you indeed met her and if so, when and how? I confess to having some difficulty in understanding how your paths might have crossed."

The Marquess explained the circumstances of his acquaintance with Miss Sinclair, informing them bluntly, but nonetheless humorously, that, such were the tortuous course of the local roads he would, but for her assistance, be even now still wandering the depths of Gloucestershire hopelessly lost and probably mad.

I had hoped to see her the following day but although she had thoughtfully provided me with a map and such succinct directions that I was able to find my way straight here, I was told that she had arrived at the inn and left them for me more than an hour before I called for my boots. What do you know about her?

As it turned out, James De'Lacey was more than averagely well informed. Born and bred in the area, he had left only when he went up to Oxford. It had, nevertheless always been his ambition to return to his native county. The previous rector of Sheepscombe Parish had stood as the young James' mentor and tutor and was, upon his retirement, more than happy to recommend the adult De'Lacey to the Bishop as his successor. The support of his father and his former employers was more than sufficient to ensure that he secured the post he had always wanted since had first taken Holy orders. His connection to the locality thus meant that he was uniquely situated to tell his Brother in Law everything he wanted to know about Miss Eurydice Mary Sinclair.

James and Miss Sinclair's oldest brother (the splendidly named Agamemnon Julian Sinclair) were of a similar age. They had grown up tramping the hills and valleys, purloining apples from the local farmers and generally getting into all the scrapes boys brought up in the country should get into. They had run tame in each other's houses and regarded the other's siblings as their own. The friendship had survived separation and the transition into manhood and, as Julian was now a professional soldier currently serving abroad, James had undertaken to do what he could to look out for his friend's family.

It was a tragic but not unfamiliar story. Julian's father had also been a soldier, but after a distinguished career he sustained wounds which had resulted in the loss of one leg and an eye. Although he survived his injuries and his physical wounds healed, the inner scars were much more enduring. He never got over the loss of his leg and, despairing, he found the oblivion he sought in a brandy bottle and then, ten years previously, the grave also. Unable to face up to any of his responsibilities, he had neglected his estate which fell into disrepair. By the time of his death, it was heavily mortgaged and generated little by way of revenue.

The entire family found themselves facing ruin. Mr Sinclair's death provided some respite as the estate no longer had to support the purchase of large quantities of brandy and expenditure was thus significantly reduced. This had given the family enough space to allow them to row back from the brink. Although the widow was no businesswoman, she had unquestionably ensured her older daughters knew everything a lady of quality ought to know and was thus able to persuade a local spinster to employ Poppy as a paid companion. Patience had secured a position with the squire as a governess. Sophocles, generally referred to as Stuart, had followed his brother Julian into the Military, choosing instead the Royal Navy. Euclid (George) had, in imitation of his namesake, shown such an aptitude for numbers that he had secured employment in a successful firm of shipping agents and was rapidly proving himself to be irreplaceable. As all the children except for Mary (the youngest child) lived in accommodation provided by their employers, they were in a position to send the majority of their income home.

This extra money helped, but it was Mary, the youngest, who had finally saved the day. Possessed of boundless energy and little need for sleep, she had worked tirelessly to rescue the situation. Unusually in a woman, and especially in one so young, Mary had an ability to recognise the opportunity to make a profit. So, Mama, so skilled with a needle, now earned money repairing and making clothes for the other ladies of the district. As she had ever an eye for good taste, those local ladies were dressed much more modishly than their rather ordinary circumstances might suggest. It was Mary who had organised this and negotiated the price as it would never have occurred to her gentle mama that anyone would pay her for doing what she loved to do.

She spent long hours on the estate addressing the backlog of grievances which had accumulated over the years during which her father had retreated into the brandy bottle. Some matters had to wait until more money was available, but she did what she could with what she had. An old oak tree had fallen over onto a barn crushing the roof. Mary arranged for the sawmill to have the timber for nothing, if he gave the farmer sufficient to repair his roof and allowed a labourer hired to help the farmer the off-cuts for his fire. Even her ability to make such arrangements would not, on their own have been sufficient to buy the time needed to put the estate back on its feet, but Mary's fierce determination to succeed was sufficient to persuade most of the creditors to grant them more time. If this were not sufficient, she met with the creditor and tried to find out if there was anything she could offer by way of a trade instead. She discovered that the miller's wife hankered after one of Mama's gowns. The village blacksmith was having trouble sourcing charcoal for his forge and their lawyer who had been unpaid for years, coveted one of the paintings in their father's study.

When most girls her age were practicing their pianoforte and learning French, Mary had been outside up to her knees in snow helping a farmer move his cattle to a dry barn at the other end of the estate. She had visited the wife of the Landlord of the Butcher’s Arms who was suffering from chill-blains and gave her medicine she had made herself. She wrote letters for the tenants and estate workers so that they could keep in contact with their families who were away in the war. She taught at the local Sunday school so that many of the local children could read and write a little. Whenever there was an emergency she would be there. If someone died, she would be the first to give her condolences and if a family were able to boast the arrival of a baby she would be there, however mean the dwelling, to see the new family member and congratulate the proud parents. The consequence of all this effort was that everyone knew, however hard they had it, Miss Mary, her Mama and her brothers and sisters were all in there with them.

A case in point related to the inn in which St. Austell had stayed the night before arriving at the Rectory. The Red Lion was struggling as the inn was so far off the beaten track that even people who knew where to look had trouble finding it. She advised Mr Nuttall on what to keep in his cellar and what to serve his guests, she explained what members of the gentry would expect by way of service and showed him how to exceed those expectations. Then she used her limited contacts to put business his way and the grateful landlord paid her a percentage of the extra profit generated from the new trade. The landlord, now rapidly gaining a reputation as the best hostelry for fifteen miles in any direction, said that the money he put in Miss Mary's pocket was the best he had ever spent.

Matters did not end there. The Inn's increased revenue led Miss Mary to suggest he should consider renovating some of the more dilapidated rooms and improving the Stable accommodation. Poppy had particularly nice taste and during her rare days off she prepared the designs while Mary managed the workmen herself again for a reasonable fee. She had a reputation of being able to get things done. She might not do the work herself, but she knew someone who could, and she took a small percentage of the fees for organising it. She did it with such charm that not one person had ever objected to her acting as an agent or middleman. A tradesman who knew he would never have been given the work at all but for her intervention, was grateful for the employment as was the employer who knew that the work would be done to a high standard and delivered on time.

She will never spend even a groat on herself, Diana observed bitterly, and she is such a pretty girl. If she would only spend some of their money on a becoming dress… She sighed knowing there was little she could to about it. "She says she has better use for her money. I found her an old dress of mine; but she would not take it. She told me the only use she had for something like that was to sell it. I managed to convince her that there are times when appropriate dress might help her cause and she was prepared to concede that, but she asked if she could simply borrow something from me if she needs to visit the squire.

That explains how she was dressed, nodded St. Austell. I thought she was a farmer's wife when I first saw her. When she spoke of course I knew she was no such thing. He looked thoughtful, who is her family? I said I was acquainted with The Earl of Caithness and she told me that there was a remote connexion. She is of the view his Lordship is unaware of her existence."

Mrs Sinclair showed me their family bible once. I believe the late Mr Sinclair's great grandfather was a brother to the Earl, James replied. It is true that the branch of the family is probably long forgotten. He sighed, The Sinclairs are a prolific family but there is nothing wrong with her birth. Sinclair was a highly decorated soldier before his wounds caused him to retreat into the bottle and Mrs Sinclair was a Wardle before her marriage.

Wardle as in Sir Hugh and Lady Wardle? St. Austell was stunned at the nod he received from his hosts. Hugh Wardle was m'father's friend for years and a more stiff-rumped, autocratic, old coot I never met, although, he grinned, I rather liked the old gentleman and I always thought he had a soft spot for me. An arrested look came across his face, come to think of it, I heard him tell our father once, the Marquess looked at his sister for confirmation, that his oldest daughter had married a soldier and disappeared off into the country. He paused, but he wouldn't have stood for his daughter and grandchildren living in poverty for a moment. Why didn't he do anything? He received a steady look from his sibling which he correctly interpreted as an invitation to follow his train of thought a little longer. Suddenly the answer came to him. Ah! Because by the time Sinclair was wounded Wardle had died. Wardle and his brother detested each other and as Wardle had no male heir the title passed to his nephew. Out of the two I very much preferred the old martinet over the young, and very loose, fish. He would not have cared a jot that his aunt stood in need of his assistance. He shook his head, Miss Sinclair said that every family has members who one might prefer not to acknowledge. I thought she was talking about the Sinclair family. She was actually referring to her own cousin.

Chapter 2

St. Austell lay awake that, night staring at the ceiling, a thoughtful expression on his face. It was not until well after midnight that his Lordship turned over and fell asleep. The following morning, he was up early and, having paid a visit to his sister's cook and received a small parcel from her, he mounted his horse and retraced his route to the Red Lion Inn.

Enquiries with the landlord, delighted to see his noble guest again, were sufficient to obtain further directions and, not fifteen minutes after leaving the inn, he arrived at a fair-sized country house. Once a beautiful property, it was built out of dressed Cotswold stone but now had a faintly dilapidated air. It was as if little attention had been paid to it over the last few years. The area which, he guessed, had once been a fair garden had now been given over to agriculture. A plate upon which the words Kitlye House were still barely discernible, was attached to an old gate standing drunkenly open against a stone gatepost which leaned at such an angle that it gave the impression it might topple in a high wind.

A convenient tree offered a low branch to which he tied his horse and having dismounted he turned to look at the house. He realised that, however neglected it looked now, at one time it must have been a delightful residence. The corners of the building, the mullions and the door posts were fashioned out of finely dressed stone which shone a mellow gold in the morning sun and in between the dressed blocks the face of the wall had a much rougher texture. It was built on two main stories, but the small windows set into the roof, which he noticed were tiled in the same stone, showed that there were rooms in the attics for servants. Off to one side, although not attached to the house, there were a series of single-story buildings in even worse condition that than the house. There, he guessed, would once have been a stable and some farm outbuildings. Having completed his survey, he walked up to the house and knocked on the door.

It was some time before he received an answer to his summons. He heard a slow and heavy tread approach the door from the other side and then a loud clatter as a pair of iron bolts were withdrawn. The door appeared very stiff and as it opened it dragged over the floor with an uncomfortable scraping sound. He concluded that the occupants rarely used their front door.

Yes Sir, how may I help you? An elderly servant, long past the age at which such retainers generally retired, stood in the now open doorway with an enquiring, and slightly wary look on his face.

My name is St. Austell, the Marquess offered his card. "I would be obliged if you would ask your mistress if she is able to see me. You may wish, if she does not know who I am, to tell her that my father and hers were the greatest of friends and, as I was in the area, I thought I would call and pay my respects.

Y…y…your Lordship, stammered the servant who, having looked at the card, was now doing his best to bow as low as his arthritis would permit, and was wholly failing to conceal his amazement at their noble visitor. Such rare visitors as they now received almost always arrived at the back door and not one of them could lay claim to a title, much less one as exalted as that possessed by this new and unexpected guest. Nonetheless, he had been well trained, and he knew what to do. Standing aside to allow St. Austell to enter he preceded him down the hallway and waited by an open door. If your Lordship will condescend to wait in the parlour I will see if Mrs Sinclair is able to see you.

Rarely, if ever, had the Marquess been shown into such a shabby room. True, there was a cheerful fire burning in the grate, but the furniture was old, mismatched, and threadbare and the rugs on the floor had holes in them. There were no drapes at the windows and the walls were bare although it was still possible to see where once paintings had once hung. He was still looking around when he heard the door open and a lady whom he adjudged to be in her late fifties hurried in, her hands outstretched.

My dearest St. Austell. He could see that her pleasure in seeing him was unfeigned. How good it is to see you after all these years. The last time I saw you I think you would still have been in nankeens.

Madam, St. Austell smiled down at her as he took her hands. I think I remember you. You played the piano in the drawing room at Austell Park for me once. I remember thinking that you were very pretty.

And you, Mrs Sinclair guided her guest to a chair, were a very well-behaved boy. She looked up at him. Whatever caused you to visit us here after all this time?

If I had known you were here, you may be sure I would have visited the daughter of my father's oldest and dearest friend much sooner, but I regret my sister only told me you were resident in the district last night. I can assure you I will scold her most severely when I return to the Rectory tonight. Since it was obvious he would do nothing of the sort, Mrs Sinclair merely laughed at him and was about to enquire after his health when he produced the package he had obtained from his sister's cook earlier that day.

I have bought you a small gift in apology for ignoring you so long. He handed it to her and at her look of polite enquiry asked, would you like a cup of tea?

He had correctly guessed that, impoverished as they were, tea would be an unaffordable luxury, and as soon as she got over the shock, she hurried out to make the necessary arrangements. Ten minutes later, the look of contentment that crossed her face as she took her first sip of the hot beverage was his reward.

Tea is the one luxury I sorely miss, Mrs Sinclair sighed as she tenderly placed her cup down by her side, now Richard, do tell me...?

A lady cut off from society for so long was starved of news and it took some time for the Marquess to bring her up to date. He wanted to know how her father's estate did under her cousin's stewardship and was genuinely distressed when he told her that her cousin, having no taste for country life or estate management, had sold everything he could and moved to London. As she had spent so much time at Austell Park when she was a girl, she was also interested in what had happened in relation to the St. Austell estates and what had been done to improve them.

Mrs Sinclair may have been unable to enjoy the position in society that she had once held and notwithstanding she was now forced to count every penny she was still unquestioningly a lady. The remains of her beauty could still be seen in her face although the strain of her circumstances was also evident, but she was a gracious host and had retained her sense of humour and St. Austell had little difficulty picturing her as the lady of a substantial establishment. She had a brisk common sense and showed no anger or bitterness at the straits in which she now found herself focusing instead upon the kindness of their neighbours, the support of her children and the determination and invention of her daughter Mary.

I met your daughter briefly a few nights ago, the Marquess confessed. I was cold, frustrated and totally lost. She appeared and quite miraculously my world seemed to immediately right itself. She produced an inn which provided me with a standard of bed and board well beyond what I generally expect in the country, and left directions for me the following day.

She does tend to have that effect on one; I do not know how we would go on without her, Mrs Sinclair frankly confessed. I live in daily fear that some man will present himself at my door and whisk her away from me.

I was hoping to renew my acquaintance with Miss Sinclair in person, he directed a look of enquiry at his host, but I gather she is not at home?

I am expecting her home soon. If your Lordship can bear my company for a further half an hour, I am sure she will be delighted to meet you again.

As to that Ma'am I have something to discuss with you and it were better, at least for the present, if your daughter were not present.

Why your Lordship, Mrs Sinclair adopted a conspiratorial expression, pray whatever is it that I can do for you?

In fact, it was nearly an hour before the back door creaked open and light footsteps could be heard tapping along the hallway. The door opened, and Miss Sinclair peered around it.

There you are Mama. Mr Tuck is... Whatever Mr Tuck was, they were not to learn because at that moment she saw St. Austell standing by her mother. A broad smile crossed her face. Your Lordship! She closed the door behind her and made her awkward curtsey to their visitor. I was wondering if I would see you again, but I did not think you would do us the honour of coming to visit us.

I was anxious to thank my rescuer, St. Austell bowed over the hand offered to him. 'She may be a rustic but there is nothing wrong with