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‘It will not be easy.’ She sighed. ‘There are times when I almost wish I had no fortune, no Madderlea. It is a weighty responsibility, you know.’
‘How so?’
‘It is not only Madderlea Hall which is old and always in need of repair—there are servants, indoors and out, and the tenants, who look to the Hall to repair their cottages and keep the land in good heart, and the villagers, whose welfare must be considered, and the parson, whose living is in the gift of the Lord of the Manor. I must choose a husband who will be as careful of all those responsibilities as Uncle Henry was, who will love Madderlea as much as I do.’
‘You have not said one word about him loving you. Do you not believe in marrying for love?’
‘Of course I do, but how can I be sure of any man? Madderlea will be a great enticement to deceive, don’t you think?’
‘Oh, Sophie, you must look for love as well. You will be so unhappy if you do not.’
They had entered the woods, taking a well-defined track between the trees. Sophie lifted an overhanging branch, its new leaves glistening with raindrops, and stooped to pass beneath it, holding it for Charlotte to follow.
‘Oh, Charlie, I should not care if he were as poor as a church mouse, if he loved me. In fact, I think I should be averse to a man with a fortune. Men with deep pockets are almost always arrogant and unfeeling and think that money will buy anything, even a wife. I am thankful that money is not one of the attributes I shall be seeking.’
‘Oh, and what qualities would you be looking for in a husband?’
‘He must be handsome and well turned out, but not vain of his appearance as some dandies are. I think it is far more important that he should have an interesting face and be able to converse sensibly without being condescending. He must allow me to be myself and not try to mould me to his idea of womanhood. He must, of course, be honourable in everything he does. He must be good with children, for I should like children, and be kind to his servants.’
Charlotte raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘Oh, is that all?’
‘No, he must be considerate and tenderhearted and not haughty or domineering. But not soft. Oh, no, definitely not soft.’
‘Goodness, Sophie, where are you going to find such a paragon? You ask too much.’
Sophie sighed. ‘I know, but I can dream, can I not? Don’t you ever dream?’
‘Yes, but only of Freddie.’
‘Mr Harfield, ah, yes, I had almost forgot him. You will be able to enjoy your Season, safe in the knowledge that you have him to come back to.’
‘I am not so sure, Sophie. Freddie told me that his father wants him to marry someone with a substantial dowry; you know I don’t have that.’
Sophie laughed. ‘I have not heard that Mr Harfield is making any push to obey his papa. He has never so much as looked at anyone else.’
‘No, but Sir Mortimer is the squire of Upper Corbury, which I own is nothing compared to Madderlea, but in our little pool, he is a big fish, and no doubt Freddie will have to give in in the end.’
‘Then he is not the man I took him for,’ Sophie said.
They had come out of the woods on to a lane which wound up and over Corbury Hill. The dark fields, here and there showing the tips of winter wheat, stretched on either side of them. On the skyline, they could see the hunt, galloping behind the yelping hounds.
‘Do you think they’ve found the scent?’ Charlotte asked, as the sound of the hunting horn drifted across to them.
‘I hope not. I feel for the poor fox.’
‘Oh, Sophie, and you a country girl!’ She stopped. ‘There’s Freddie. Don’t you think he is handsome, the way he sits his horse?’
Sophie smiled. ‘I am persuaded that you do.’
The young man had spotted them and turned his horse to meet them, pulling it up in a shower of damp earth, almost at their feet.
‘Freddie!’ Charlotte said, brushing down her cape. ‘You have made us all muddy.’
He grinned, doffing his hat to reveal blond curls. Two years older than they were, he still had the slim figure and round face of a youth, but had been rapidly maturing over the previous two years and would soon have all the mamas for miles around looking at him with an acquisitive eye.
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Hundon.’ Then, to Sophie, ‘Miss Roswell.’
Sophie smiled. ‘Mr Harfield.’
‘It is so pleasant to be out after all the rain,’ Charlotte said, teasing him. ‘And we might not be able to do so much longer.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We are both going to London for a Season. What do you think of that?’
‘Season?’ he echoed in dismay. ‘You mean you are to have a come-out and mix with all the eligibles?’
‘I mean exactly that,’ she said, laughing.
He dismounted and walked over to grab both her hands, a gesture which Sophie knew she ought to discourage as being highly improper, but she had no heart to do it.
‘Charlie,’ he said, using the familiar name of childhood. ‘You wouldn’t…Would you?’
‘Now, who’s to say? I might…’
‘Oh, no, please say you are only teasing…’
‘I am only teasing.’ She looked at him with her head on one side, while Sophie pretended to examine something in the hedgerow. ‘But you know, Freddie, if your papa has his way, I should be holding myself back in vain.’
‘I will bring him round. Promise me you will be patient.’ He could hear the hunt fading in the distance. ‘I must go.’ He put her hands to his lips and reluctantly released them. The next minute he was astride his horse and galloping away.
‘You know, that was highly indecorous conduct,’ Sophie said, as they resumed their walk. ‘If anyone had seen you…’
‘But they didn’t, did they?’ Charlotte was smiling at the memory of her swain.
‘No, but it will be very different in London, you know. What might be acceptable behaviour in Upper Corbury would be enough to ruin your reputation in the capital. Do remember that, Charlie.’
‘There is no need to ring a peal over me, Sophie, I know I must be prim and proper when we go to London. Besides, Freddie will not be there and I shall not be tempted to stray.’
Sophie was not so sure. Temptations there would be, she was certain, not only for Charlotte but for her too—she must not allow herself to forget Madderlea and why she was there.
Three weeks later, they set off for London in the family coach, accompanied by Anne, who had been promoted from parlour maid to ladies’ maid, and escorted by Joseph, Mr Hundon’s groom, riding Sophie’s grey stallion. Joseph’s nineteen-year-old son, Luke, was riding Charlotte’s smaller horse. Joseph and the coachman were to return with the carriage immediately because William needed it, but Luke was to stay in London to look after their mounts. They would be relying on their hostess’s equipage to convey them around town.
‘Her name is Lady Fitzpatrick,’ William had told them on his return. ‘She is a distant cousin on my mother’s side. You have not met her because she moved to Ireland on her marriage and we did not correspond. She was widowed some years ago and returned to live in London. I went to ask her advice and she offered to sponsor you herself, which is very agreeable of her and saved me a great deal of time and trouble. She has a town house in Holles Street, not a top-of-the-trees area, but respectable enough.’
‘Some years ago,’ Charlotte echoed. ‘Does that mean she is old, Papa?’
‘No, I would not say old,’ he told them. ‘Mature and well able to deal with high-spirited girls.’
‘A dragon.’
‘Certainly not. In fact, she is a sympathetic sort and will stand well in loco parentis. I believe she might be a little short-sighted, for she uses a quizzing glass all the time, but that is of no account. I am sure you will like her; she impressed me very much with her sensibility and knowledge of what is right and proper.’
This description hardly filled the girls with rapture, but it could not have been easy for him, a country gentleman not used to the haute monde. They were going to London for the Season and that was all that mattered.
‘Now, Sophie, you will have a care, will you not?’ he had said the day before, when they were in the throes of last-minute packing. ‘There will be unscrupulous men about and I do not want you to be gulled. Be guided by Lady Fitzpatrick and, whatever you do, do not commit yourself to anyone until I have seen and approved him. You do understand?’
‘Of course, Uncle.’
‘And the same goes for you, my love,’ he told his daughter. ‘And though you will not be the object of fortune hunters, you are a lovely girl and perhaps susceptible to flattery…’
‘Oh, Papa, I am not such a ninny. Besides, I am going to enjoy myself, not look for a husband. The man I want is in Upper Corbury.’
He had laughed at that and said no more, though Aunt Madeleine, tearfully coming out to the carriage to wave goodbye to them, had reinforced everything he had said and more, extracting a promise from them that they would write every other day.
‘Oh, this is so exciting,’ Charlotte said, when they stopped for their first change of horses. Anne, who was a bad traveller, had curled herself up in the corner and gone to sleep. The girls allowed her to slumber on; it was easier to exchange confidences without eavesdroppers, however unintentional. ‘What time will we arrive, do you think?’
‘With luck, before it becomes dark,’ Sophie said.
‘I do hope Lady Fitzpatrick is not a dragon. I mean to enjoy myself, meeting all the eligibles. It will not hurt Freddie to think he has some competition.’
Sophie envied her cousin her untroubled mind. ‘You may look forward to it, Charlie, but I am not so sanguine.’
‘Why not? You are rich as Croesus. Think of all the splendid gowns you will be able to buy, the pelisses, riding habits, bonnets and silk shawls. A new dress and a new bonnet for every occasion. And you will have all the young men dangling after you. In your shoes, I would be in ecstasies.’
‘I wish you could be in my shoes, Cousin, dear, for I would willingly trade places.’
‘You surely do not mean that.’
‘I do. Then I could choose a husband without him knowing who I am.’
‘And afterwards? He would have to know in the end.’
‘Yes, but by then we should have discovered we suited and he would not mind.’
‘No, I do not suppose he would, considering he had landed an heiress and not the simple country girl he thought he had won. Oh, Sophie, if you go about with that Friday face, you will surely put them all off.’
Sophie laughed, her greeny-grey eyes danced with light and her face lit up with mischief. ‘I must not do that, must I?’
‘Certainly you must not, if you wish to catch that paragon you told me of.’
They talked on as the coach rattled through the countryside, which gradually became more and more inhabited as one village followed another in quick succession. Then they were travelling on cobbles and there were buildings each side of the street, houses and inns and shops, and the streets were crowded with vehicles and people, in spite of the lateness of the hour. They leaned forward eagerly to look about them when they realised they had arrived in the metropolis. Sophie had seen some of it briefly on her way from Europe to Madderlea, but to Charlotte it was new and wonderful.
Fifteen minutes later they turned into Holles Street and the carriage drew to a stop. The girls, peering out, saw a tall narrow house with evenly spaced windows and steps up to the front door, which was thrown open when Joseph lifted the knocker and let it fall with a resounding clang. A footman and a young lad ran down the steps to the carriage and began unloading their luggage, while the girls extricated themselves and made their way, in some trepidation, up the steps and into the front hall, followed by Anne, still half asleep.
‘Ladies, ladies, welcome. Come in. Come in. Is that your maid? Tell her to follow the footman, he will show her your rooms. She can unpack while you take some refreshment. I do hope the journey has not tired you excessively.’
The rush of words ended as suddenly as they had begun and the girls found themselves staring at a dumpy little woman in a mauve satin gown and a black lace cap, who was peering at them through a quizzing glass. Her eyes, small and dark, were almost lost in a face that was as round and rosy as an apple.
‘Good evening, Lady Fitzpatrick.’ Sophie was the first to speak. ‘We—’
‘No, don’t tell me, let me guess,’ their hostess said, lifting her glass closer to her eyes and subjecting them to individual scrutiny. They were dressed similarly in plain travelling dresses and short capes, though Sophie’s was a dark russet, which heightened the red-gold of her hair, and Charlotte’s was rose-pink. Sophie’s bonnet was dark green straw, trimmed with matching velvet ribbon, and Charlotte’s was a chip bonnet, ruched in pale blue silk.
Her close inspection completed, her ladyship pointed her lorgnette at Charlotte, who was standing silently trying not to laugh. ‘You are Miss Roswell. I can tell breeding a mile off.’ She turned to Sophie. ‘And you are the country cousin.’
Charlotte was too busy trying to smother her giggles to contradict her. Sophie dug her sharply in the ribs with her elbow and smiled at their hostess. ‘Why, how clever of you, my lady. I did not think it so obvious.’
‘Sophie!’ breathed Charlotte in alarm, but Sophie ignored her and smiled at Lady Fitzpatrick.
‘I can see that no one could gull you, my lady. Not that we should try, of course. I am, indeed, Miss Hundon.’
Her ladyship leaned towards her, cupping a hand round her ear. ‘You must learn to speak clearly, child, it is no good mumbling. I am sure Miss Roswell does not mumble.’
Sophie realised that, besides having poor eyesight, Lady Fitzpatrick was also hard of hearing. Had Uncle William known that?
‘Charlotte, for goodness’ sake, don’t stand there giggling,’ she murmured. ‘Say something.’
‘What can I say? Oh dear, Sophie, what have you done? You have landed us in a bumblebath and no mistake.’
‘Bath,’ said Lady Fitzpatrick. ‘Of course, you may have a bath. I will order the water to be taken up to your rooms. But first, some refreshment.’ She led the way into the drawing room, where a parlour maid had just arrived with a tea tray which she put on a low table beside a sofa. ‘Now, Sophie, you sit here beside me and Charlotte can sit in the armchair opposite.’
Charlotte obeyed and then gasped when her ladyship looked askance at her. ‘I meant you to sit beside me, my dear, but it is of no real consequence.’
Sophie relinquished her seat and motioned Charlotte to take it. ‘My lady, you have misunderstood,’ she said, speaking very precisely. ‘I am Sophie. This is Charlotte.’
‘Oh, I see. You know, Mr Hundon spoke very quickly and I did not always catch exactly what he said. So Miss Roswell is Charlotte and Miss Hundon is Sophie, not the other way about. No wonder you were amused.’
‘But…’ Charlotte spluttered and then dissolved into the giggles she had been trying so hard to suppress and Sophie found herself laughing. It was the first time for two years that she had really done more than smile a little, and it felt wonderful.
Lady Fitzpatrick, mistaking the cause of their laughter, allowed herself a rueful smile. ‘I have it right now, do I not?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Sophie said, accepting a cup of tea and sipping it. She knew Charlotte was staring askance at her, but refused to look her in the eye.
‘Sophie, whatever are we going to do?’ Charlotte, unable to sleep, had padded along to Sophie’s room in her nightdress. ‘We cannot possibly keep up the pretence.’
‘Why not? Lady Fitzpatrick’s mistake is fortuitous and it would be a shame to disillusion her. You said you would like to be in my shoes, so now you may.’
‘But, Sophie, Anne and Luke know which of us is which…’
‘Oh, I told Anne when she queried why you had been given the best room. I promised her five guineas and assured her she would not be in trouble over it.
‘Five guineas! Why, that is a small fortune to her!’
‘It would not serve to be miserly. As for Luke, he thought it was a great lark, when I offered him the same inducement.’
‘Sophie, I cannot do it, really I can’t. I shall die of mortification when we have to go out and about and meet people.’
Sophie thrust her conscience firmly into the background. Fate had taken a hand in the matter and made Lady Fitzpatrick make that mistake. It could not and should not be ignored. ‘No one knows us in town and you will manage wonderfully. Wouldn’t you like to play the heiress for a few weeks? It will flush out the fortune hunters and we can have a little fun at their expense. And, who knows, I might even meet that paragon.’
