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‘Could it be that at last you have that sense of belonging you’ve sought all your life?’

‘I know now where I’ve come from and although I can’t ever know my father, I know what has made him, and made me too. But I must find my mother. Perhaps she will explain another side of me.’ They both laid their heads back on the cushions as the coach rattled home.

5

MUSICAL CHAIRS AT HASTERLEIGH

Leonora hung up the silver gauze evening dress and contemplated it, wondering if it had some kind of talismanic power. She was twenty-seven and had been happy with the limitations of her existence in Hasterleigh, but this dress sparkled in the morning light, and it whispered that there was another world she could inhabit, if only for a time.

She descended the stairs to breakfast with an excitement of spirit. She was going to grasp whatever chances came her way. Leonora took a piece of writing paper from the desk in the library, dipped her quill in the inkwell and wrote in her fluent hand:

Dear Lord Rokeby,

Charlotte Blythe and I returned yesterday from a successful visit to your mother’s modiste, Mrs Marmery of Windsor. I have been wondering how Achille has been. Did he pass a good night?

With greetings from your neighbour,

Leonora Appleby

She folded it and sealed it with a blob of warm wax impressed with her father’s seal and carried it through to the kitchen where Jack Clegg was eating toast with Cook. ‘Good morning to you both.’ Turning to Jack, she said, ‘When you’ve finished, would you deliver this to the Abbey?’ He stood up, wiping his hands on his breeches, his mouth full, and with a twinkle in his eyes could only nod.

Mrs Priddy was drinking her coffee when Leonora walked into the breakfast room. Her old nanny’s blue eyes missed little as she glanced sideways. ‘Nora my dear, how are you after yesterday’s excursion?’

‘I feel quite restored,’ she said as she took a newly baked roll from the basket on the table. ‘Is this your bramble jam?’ Leonora asked as she slathered a teaspoon of the glistening jelly onto the fresh bread.

‘It is indeed. You and Charlotte picked me that trug-full from the hedgerow.’ She was not going to be deflected and continued, ‘You’re up to something. Have you heard from Mr Lockwood since he’s been gone to Oxfordshire?’

Leonora had barely thought of George Lockwood since he had left and looked surprised. ‘No. But he has said he’ll come for the musical evening I’m planning. I’ve also asked Lord Dearlove and his friend Captain Ormonde.’

‘I liked his lordship when he visited your dear William. He was very attentive after Captain Worth died.’

‘He was very kind to me, ’tis true. Pity he’s also with his sister who believes any act of unkindness, however small, is never wasted.’

‘Really, Nora my dear, it’s not like you to be so sharp. Remember that young woman does not have your advantages of beauty and talent.’

Leonora snorted with laughter. ‘Nanny P, you are irrepressible! You’d excuse the Devil himself by pointing out he was in need of food or a good sleep. Lady Livia has every advantage. She’s an heiress, she’s elegant, she’s high-born. She just relishes being unkind to others less elevated than herself!’

Mrs Priddy tutted and changed the subject. ‘Do you think that Lord Rokeby will grace us with his presence at your party?’

Leonora still felt like teasing her old nanny and nudged her arm. ‘He was another of your bad boys who just needed understanding and love to be turned to the good.’ But the humour left her face as she added, ‘I think the war and loss of his brother has erased for ever the mischievous young man you used to know.’ As she spoke, Jack Clegg knocked on the door.

He entered and handed over a piece of paper scrawled in black with her name. ‘His lordship asked me to deliver a response.’

‘Thank you.’ Leonora opened the roughly folded scrap of paper torn from the bottom of her letter. She read out loud. ‘Miss Appleby, Achille had a rough night and so did his master. I’d be grateful if you could come today at three with Mrs Priddy. Her wisdom in these matters might be useful. Then he’s signed it with a scrawled R.’ Leonora looked up and met Nanny P’s eyes. ‘That sounds like an order.’

‘Prevaricating charm was never his strong suit.’

‘I hope you’re happy to accompany me?’

So it was that at a quarter to three, Leonora and Mrs Priddy set off in the gig. Clover was getting used to this short journey to Rokeby Abbey and would have found her way there unbidden. To her shame, Leonora changed into her finest afternoon gown, more formal than she had worn before on her working visits, but it was particularly flattering to her figure and colouring. Charlotte had joked that it made her look like a piece of Mr Wedgewood’s blue jasper-ware figured in white, but she felt confident in the fine blue wool that fitted so well. Mrs Priddy had brought with her a linen bag filled with dried chamomile flowers and lavender, together with fresh comfrey leaves she had picked from the orchard that afternoon. She had also included a jar of Hasterleigh honey.

The great Abbey door was opened by Stowe looking more lugubrious than usual. From the depths of the house they heard the Earl’s angry voice curse, ‘Shut that damned door!’ Stowe took the women’s cloaks and led the way into the drawing room where a banked-up fire crackled in the medieval fireplace. The Earl looked startled to see them. His sleeves rolled up and his face pale and strained, he came towards them, his hand outstretched. ‘Apologies ladies, for my language. I forgot the time. I haven’t slept with worry.’ He gestured to where his large dog lay on his sheepskin, his eyes half-closed. Achille lifted his head and gave a weak wag of his tail before subsiding again.

Mrs Priddy walked towards the invalid. ‘Is the wound infected?’

Lord Rokeby hung his head. ‘I’ve seen so many infected wounds in the Peninsula, and it does not end well.’ Everyone gazed down at the torn back leg which was swollen right to the pads of the foot. The area around the wound was red, the wound itself weeping.

‘I’ve brought some herbs to mix with honey as a dressing when we bandage it afresh. But first it must be cleaned.’ Mrs Priddy knelt beside Achille while his master strode for the door, his limp pronounced, as he called for Stowe.