Chapter 8

8

THE HEART OF THE MATTER

Lady Bucklebury had sent her grooms down to Rokeby Abbey to bring back two of the Earl's horses suitable for the young women in her charge to ride in Hyde Park. She met Leonora and Charlotte at breakfast. ‘Good morning, my dears. I always think a good ride in the Park clears the heart and mind. I have two of Rokeby's palfreys in the stables, needing to be ridden. Would you take them out this afternoon?' It was couched as a question but both young women knew it was closer to an order. ‘All the best of Society is on display there on a sunny afternoon.'

By two o'clock, Charlotte and Leonora were dressed in their newly embellished riding habits, and on their heads wore their smart top hats sporting plumes of feathers. They waited for the sound of hooves as the groom brought the horses round from the stables to the front door. Davy was the Bucklebury groom and was young and cheerful, dressed in livery that appeared to have been made for a bigger man. He rode up on his own chestnut horse with the reins of the two Rokeby mares for the young women. One was black and one was a grey, and both were finely built and glossy with good health.

Leonora cheered up at the sight of these magnificent animals. Her homesickness had been in part due to missing her beautiful Dione and the freedom to ride.

‘They are very fine horses. What are their names?' Leonora asked as she descended the front steps.

Davy grinned. ‘The grey is Iris, the black mare is Minerva.' Leonora and Charlotte were just gazing into their fine lustrous eyes, wondering which horse each should claim, when the groom said, ‘The Earl of Rokeby suggested Iris for Miss Blythe and Minerva for Miss Appleby.'

‘Well that simplifies matters,' Charlotte said, stroking the forehead of her pretty mare before accepting Davy's hand to help her into the side-saddle. Leonora's heart was once more troubled by mention of Lord Rokeby's name. And why would he designate which horse she should ride? Minerva, goddess of wisdom; was there any significance in this? She shook her head. How foolish to look for omens in every simple thing; how missish of her to let her thoughts be so dominated by him.

Davy helped Leonora mount and immediately she knew she was sitting on a lively mare who was keen for adventure. She had to rein her back as Davy, astride his chestnut gelding, led the way to the Park. Her overactive brain would not be stilled; she wondered whether it was because the Earl thought her a more experienced horsewoman that he had suggested this spirited ride for her. She knew she had to protect her peace of mind from these fruitless speculations, resolutely guarding her imagination from fearful images of Lord Rokeby embracing Claudette Dupré.

It was exciting entering at Grosvenor Gate where a crush of men and some women with their grooms were mounted on flashy steeds, chatting to acquaintances and trotting off in twos and threes along the rides radiating out towards the Serpentine and trees. Others entered the Park in a flourish, driving curricles and phaetons with their passengers beside them dressed for display in pelisses and bonnets, tigers perched behind them. The arrival of two good-looking young women on a pair of the handsomest horses to be seen in the Park caused quite a stir. Leonora had known that Lord Rokeby loved his horses and ran a large stable of the finest bloodstock, but she did not realise until now how distinguished the horses were and how much attention they attracted.

The day was bright and the afternoon sun had melted the frost from the grass, but the breath of horses and riders still wreathed in misty ribbons in the air. They were trotting in an orderly fashion when a small pack of feral dogs surrounded them. One nipped the fetlock of Charlotte's mount. In the melee, the horse took off in fright, galloping towards a distant copse of trees. Davy immediately spurred his horse in pursuit; a bolting horse could be dangerous to itself, its rider and anyone else in the vicinity.

Charlotte struggled to suppress her fear, clinging onto the pommel to try and prevent herself being thrown out of the saddle. Iris was unresponsive to any pressure on the reins and Charlotte could only hope the horse would exhaust her primitive need for flight. Davy was just beginning to close on her when a group of horsemen loomed out of the trees ahead. One, in a red jacket, broke away and galloped towards Charlotte. He took a wide loop to enable him to ride alongside her horse and lean across to grasp the reins, pulling Iris up as he reined in his own horse. Charlotte sagged in the saddle, overcome by her ordeal. Close to tears, her voice was a sob. ‘Thank you, Captain Ormonde.'

Leonora had followed, full of concern, and she and her horse arrived at the small group. ‘Charlotte, are you all right? Do you wish to dismount and walk a while?' Still pale, Charlotte shook her head. Leonora did not care for the proprietorial way Guy Ormonde still had hold of the reins of Charlotte's horse.

There was the sound of a cheery hallo and three more riders cantered up. George Lockwood was in the company of Rufus and Livia Dearlove. Lord Dearlove cast a roguish glance at Charlotte and asked, ‘Was that you I saw galloping, Miss Blythe, against the express proscriptions of the Royal Parks?'

‘Sir, don't be such a blockhead! You know Miss Blythe's horse bolted and that her life was in danger,' Captain Ormonde drawled.

George Lockwood wheeled his horse around and trotted up beside Charlotte. ‘I saw your headlong dash and no doubt you're a trifle shaken up. This elegant creature isn't your own mare though, is she?'

‘No, Lord Rokeby sent two mounts from his stable for Miss Leonora and me to ride.'

Charlotte had placed her hand on Mr Lockwood's as if for reassurance, then withdrew it as Captain Ormonde scoffed, ‘I wouldn't think Rokeby's likely to have any prancers suitable for young ladies to ride. He's known for his high-bred bloodstock, not everyday palfreys. No wonder one bolted.'

Leonora could not stay silent. ‘I completely trust the Earl's judgement on equine matters. He would not have sent two unmanageable mounts for us. Charlotte's horse was bitten by a dog. The reaction was to be expected.' She leant forwards to pat Minerva's neck as if to prove her own horse's docility.

Lord Dearlove clapped Captain Ormonde on the back. ‘Lighten up, old friend. I have a capital suggestion. The Duchess of Hungerford's ball next week is one of the best of the Season and I'm determined to get Miss Appleby and Miss Blythe invited.'

‘How will you do that? She's notoriously sharp-eyed about whom she allows into the hallowed halls of Hungerford House,' Captain Ormonde said as he released Charlotte's horse's reins, and she coaxed Iris to Leonora's side.

‘I have a particular power over the Duchess.' Rufus Dearlove's smile was knowing. ‘She's determined I marry her daughter and agrees to most of my requests.'

Captain Ormonde scoffed again, ‘Well, if that's the case, she's not going to be happy to include in her guest list two attractive young women as competition.'

George Lockwood smiled. ‘From what Lady Livia has told me, I surmise that Dearlove has his own particular means of persuasion.'

Livia Dearlove had ridden up alongside Mr Lockwood and cast him a quelling look, as if he had said more than she thought he should. She greeted Leonora and Charlotte with an elegant incline of her neck and lisped, ‘The Duchess's balls are always very grand but rather dull affairs. She doesn't allow card tables so the men sulk, and we women have to work all the harder to appear alluring enough for them to deign to dance and charm.' She made a small grimace then looked up into George Lockwood's face with a delicate pout.

He glanced at the assembled party. ‘I think we and the beasts are getting chilled; let's head off towards the Serpentine and let our horses canter a while.' He led the way on his hunter, with Livia Dearlove close behind and Captain Ormonde and Lord Dearlove with Charlotte and Leonora, accompanied by Davy their groom. They thundered down towards the water glittering through the birch trees.

They reined in their horses and the groups reassembled with Leonora and George Lockwood riding slightly apart. ‘Will you be going to the Duchess's famous ball?' she asked, rather anxious at the thought of not having his reassuring presence as a human lighthouse in a storm.

‘I will be. I'm a trifle concerned about Miss Blythe.'

This startled Leonora. ‘In what way, pray, sir? She seems to have survived the fright of her horse bolting quite well.'

‘Well, she has, although there can be a delayed shock. But I know you can watch out for that.' His face looked troubled and he hesitated, as if he were not sure whether to confide in her. ‘I'm afraid I'm worried about something less obvious.'

Leonora put out a hand and caught his arm. ‘What? Mr Lockwood, I am here to mind her; what should I know?'

‘I'm suspicious of Captain Ormonde. He's naturally charming and attentive but I fear he is more interested in Miss Blythe's fortune than her happiness.'

‘But she is not a fool. She's also underage and cannot ally herself with anyone without permission from the Earl, whom I presume is her guardian.'

Lady Livia rode up to join them and Leonora and Mr Lockwood broke off their conversation. ‘Mr Lockwood, the afternoon is growing colder, I think Lord Rufus and I will be riding back to Grosvenor Square.' Her regard had fallen on George Lockwood and she seemed to be hesitating, as if hoping he would decide to join her and her brother.

He did not move and instead tipped his hat. ‘Thank you, Lady Livia, for your company. I look forward to seeing you at the Duchess's ball next week.'

Leonora and Charlotte also bade them farewell as Lord Dearlove called to them over his shoulder, ‘I'll deliver your invitations tomorrow.'

Captain Ormonde and George Lockwood accompanied the young women back to Bucklebury House. They rode in silence, Davy keeping a discreet distance at the rear. The men were hailed by various riders and drivers as they passed, which would have piqued Leonora's interest had she not been so concerned with how subdued Charlotte had become. The men dismounted and Captain Ormonde went to Charlotte's side to help her down. She gave him a polite smile as she unhooked her leg from the pommel and slid down Iris's side. He put up his hands and caught her firmly round the waist and swung her to the ground. Holding her for a moment close, he looked meaningfully into her face and gave one of his dazzling smiles. ‘Farewell then, Miss Blythe,' he said, bringing her hand to his lips.

George Lockwood offered to help Leonora dismount and once she was standing before him, took her hand in farewell. ‘We will meet again, at the Hungerford ball, it seems.' His expression was wry and seemed to Leonora to convey a variety of thoughts: that he had much more he wished to say; would rather he did not have to bother with attending another Society ball; and was concerned about Charlotte. Davy led their horses back to the stables and Leonora and Charlotte ran up the front steps and entered the house.

Leonora drew Charlotte into the morning room and closed the door. She took her hands and asked her urgently, ‘Are you recovered from your fright?' They sat down together on the small sofa in the window.

‘Oh yes, it's just I'm missing Mama Mildmay and home. I really don't care for all this fuss about parties and balls and what I can and cannot do. I don't want to be an heiress, it just complicates matters. And I don't want to be married…' Charlotte's voice tailed off.

‘I know. It's all new and is a challenge when we have lived such a simple life and largely pleased ourselves. But surely you'd like to have your own family? And be mistress of your own household, not always living in the homes of others?'

Charlotte hung her head. ‘I would. But would rather marry someone who lives near Hasterleigh, so I can visit you still. Someone who loves the country as we do.'

‘Well, you may well find such a person in Town. Every country gentleman comes to London to do the Season and that is when you are most likely to meet him. What do you think of Lord Dearlove?'

‘He's amiable enough. And very handsome, 'tis true. But he doesn't seem to take anything but his cards and horses seriously. I don't think he'd be a very attentive husband.' Her face had grown even more doleful.

Leonora squeezed her hand. ‘Someone who seems very attentive is Captain Ormonde.'

Charlotte suddenly blushed. ‘He is. He's very charming and talks to me as if what I have to say is of interest to him. But he does not have a fortune and I doubt Lord Rokeby would give his permission for us to marry.'

This startled Leonora. Had things progressed so far? ‘Do you wish to marry him?' She looked into her face with a searching gaze.

Charlotte pulled her hand away. ‘No! I told you I don't want to marry anyone, but I fear he'll be the person most interested in marrying me!' A tear rolled down her cheek. ‘I feel that if I don't manage to find a husband during this Season, I'll be a failure. It's all so confusing.'

‘I know it is. But you are not to feel a failure. Look at me, I don't feel thus.'

‘But I have been given this dowry and Grandmama has opened her house to me to effect such an outcome. If I fail it will be solely because of me.'

Leonora patted her arm in sympathy. ‘We are only at the beginning of something we said we'd consider an adventure. Now, let's find your courageous self again.' A glimmer of Charlotte's customary brightness of spirit returned. Leonora continued, ‘What about Mr Lockwood? He is a man who loves the country and will live in the heart of Hasterleigh.'

‘He's the best man of them all but,' she hesitated, ‘you know I've always thought that he was meant for you.'

Leonora laughed. ‘Oh, dear Lottie. Remember my father's favourite saying? The best-laid schemes of mice and men often go awry . We fondly think we know what is best only to be soon confounded.' Her face turned pensive. ‘I too have had my hopes shown up as foolish. We can only try to live like Curate Fopling, at one with the creatures of the natural world. To find who we are and what will make us happy.'

Charlotte brightened and grasped her friend's hand. ‘Mama Mildmay's last letter had some interesting news.' She extracted it from her reticule. ‘Mr Fopling is often seen on his parish duties with Little Grace, accompanied by Miss Vazey and her dog. Silas too is completely recovered from his gunshot wound and his new dog is almost as well trained as his beloved Molly. And Jane Chetwode.' Charlotte looked up and said, ‘You remember she and her mother moved into the Grove and you asked them to our musical evening.' She returned to the letter to read, ‘ She's assumed responsibility from Reverend Mildmay for the Sunday school, which is a relief .' She smiled. ‘Oh, how I miss the comfortable certainties of home.'

‘Why don't you rest, and I'll go and tell the Countess about the ride in the Park and the promise of invitations for the Hungerford ball.'

‘Oh, thank you! I haven't got the energy for Grandmama.'

Leonora did not know that she had the energy either, but she was keen to see Mrs Priddy, whose presence alone calmed her spirit. She knocked and walked into the drawing room, still wearing her riding habit and no doubt looking a trifle dishevelled. ‘Lady Bucklebury, Mrs Priddy, good afternoon,' she greeted them. Mrs Priddy rose from her seat in the window, ‘Nora my dear, how was the expedition to Hyde Park?'

‘It was so good to be riding again. Lord Rokeby's horses are beautiful. Thank you, Lady Bucklebury, for being so thoughtful as to send for them.'

Lady Bucklebury was sitting by the fire and her eyes flickered over Leonora, appraising her outfit and person. ‘I'm so glad they are up to snuff but I assure you it wasn't my idea to send for them. The Earl decided you should both have some fine mounts to ride while you are here.'

‘Unfortunately, one of the Park dogs bit Miss Charlotte's horse, and she bolted.'

Mrs Priddy took Leonora's arm in alarm. ‘Is she all right? One of your father's tenants was killed when his horse bolted through a wood and he was knocked off by a branch, stone dead.'

‘Nanny P! Luckily Captain Ormonde appeared and helped rein her mare in.' Leonora then turned to Lady Bucklebury. ‘Lord Dearlove and his sister were also there, and he said he could obtain for us invitations to the Duchess of Hungerford's ball.'

‘Goodness! That would be remarkable. That lady operates a very fine mesh that allows few to slip through. Just being seen attending will be the most valuable imprimatur for dear Charlotte, particularly given her irregular parentage.'

Leonora was surprised to hear that one woman could have so much sway, but she advised caution. ‘Lord Dearlove may have been swaggering a trifle. I don't know if he'll be successful.'

Lady Bucklebury's paper-thin hands clapped together with delight. ‘Oh, I think that young charmer may well succeed. From what I hear he's somewhat more than a favourite with the Duchess who, like Lady Melbourne, believes in keeping her enemies close but her lovers closer. She intends him to be affianced to her daughter, you know.'

Leonora looked at Mrs Priddy for clarification of what she thought Lady Bucklebury meant, but only Nanny P's widening of eyes revealed that she thought this a little irregular. Lady Bucklebury struggled to her feet and Mrs Priddy hurried to offer an arm in support. Together they walked to the door and the Countess turned to say to Leonora, ‘I'm just off to dress for dinner. I hope to see you two young women in an hour or so.'

The next morning was cloudless and still. Leonora climbed out of bed, opened her curtains and surveyed the brightening view. She hoped the sky was as blue over Hasterleigh. She wondered what was happening with Curate Fopling and Little Grace and whether he had accepted the living at the neighbouring parish; she wondered about the Mildmays and their foreboding over their beloved Charlotte; she wondered if Silas Sproat was being careful not to trespass. Most of all, Leonora wondered what was happening at Rokeby Abbey, desperate to know how things were with the Earl.

She dressed for the day in one of her refurbished gowns of sprigged cotton and was admiring her handiwork in the looking glass when she heard a knock at the door, and Charlotte entered. ‘Good morning, Leonora, are you ready to go downstairs for breakfast?'

‘Good morning, Lottie. You look more cheerful.'

‘I've remembered what you said, to treat this as an adventure, not see it as a test of my worthiness to be someone's wife.'

Charlotte looked particularly pretty in one of her new morning gowns made by Mrs Marmery in French cambric in a pale cerulean blue. The young women linked arms and descended the stairs to find, to their surprise and some dismay, Lady Bucklebury already there, her lace cap sightly awry. ‘Good morning, ma'am,' both said in unison.

‘Oh, my dears, you do look charming. I myself feel less than charming this morning; sleep eludes me.'

‘Oh, Lady Bucklebury, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope my playing the piano-forte in the evening did not keep you from your bed too long.'

‘No. In fact, it's quite diverting for such an ancient woman as me having two young women unsettling the stale air in this old house. Now sit down and have some coffee.'

Leonora and Charlotte were in the middle of their second cups when Lady Bucklebury said, ‘On a day as bright as this you should go to Mr Barker's Panorama in Cranbourn Street. They've just changed the view from the Main Circle.'

Charlotte's face flushed with excitement. ‘I've just been reading about this in my guidebook. It's the best in the world, and visitors feel they've been transported into the scene of battle or are actually walking in the landscape. Some more sensitive viewers even feel dizzy or faint. I'd love to go!'

Mrs Priddy had just come into the room and greeted everyone before helping herself to a pastry and sitting down. The Countess looked pleased with Charlotte's reaction. ‘Good. That will keep you occupied for half the day. But I would like you to be chaperoned by Mrs Priddy as the viewing platforms and the passages to get there are very dimly lit, encouraging all kinds of impertinent behaviour.'

She looked across at Mrs Priddy who nodded. ‘I've only seen a small panorama of the view of London when I was young. I think it was shown in a shed in Castle Street to the east of the city. This sounds a most superior experience.'

Lady Bucklebury smiled. ‘Well, you need good light to see the panorama at its best. Today's weather is set fair. Apparently a new panorama has just been installed. I've been told it depicts some battle scene, so I hope it's not too gruesome.' She got to her feet and Leonora and Mrs Priddy offered an arm each to help her walk slowly up the stairs to the drawing room. ‘I think I need a little rest,' she said as she arrived in the room and settled on the sofa next to the fire, already blazing. ‘Now my dears, shall I ask for a chaise to take you there?'

Mrs Priddy was the first to answer. ‘Goodness no, my lady, we are all country women and used to walking. It's barely a mile after all. But thank you.' She inclined her head.

It was just after noon when all three women set off to walk to the Leicester Square end of Cranbourn Street where the entrance to the Panorama was situated. In order to avoid the bustle of Bond Street they took a detour through Grosvenor Square. Leonora loved the open gardens and grandeur of the Square with its expanse of sky, grass and trees providing a microcosm of countryside that reminded her of home. As they turned left to walk past the grand fa?ades of the eastern terrace, they noticed a large coach drawn up outside the biggest mansion, its team of magnificent black horses steaming in the afternoon light.

The women approached as shutters were opened and the front door left ajar while luggage and chests were unloaded into the house. Leonora gave a gasp as she recognised the crest on the side of the door of the carriage. She turned to Nanny P, her heart thumping. ‘That's the Earl's coach. I thought he never came to Town.'

They hurried past and Mrs Priddy took her arm. ‘'Tis true Lord Rokeby has a house in Grosvenor Square but we don't know that this house is his. He could have lent his coach to someone else? He could have lent his house to another. We'll wait to hear what Lady Bucklebury knows before we jump to conclusions.' She squeezed Leonora's arm in reassurance; Nanny P knew this young woman well enough to know how turbulent her feelings were about Lord Rokeby, feelings she had not yet managed to fully understand.

Soon they were walking through Berkeley Square where Rufus and Livia Dearlove lived at no. 2. Charlotte pointed out the large house in the corner. ‘I wonder if his lordship has managed to obtain those invitations for us?'

London was still a novelty filled with thrilling and startling sights. Leonora and Charlotte's eyes were continually caught by the passing show: a dandy in his yellow coat and exaggerated silhouette; young women in enormous bonnets piled with fruit or billowing feathers; fashionable Corinthians driving smart curricles far too fast down Piccadilly, standing to urge their purebred horses on, a long looping whip in hand, a beaver hat pulled low, and the capes on their coats fluttering in the wind. Leonora found the effortless superiority of such men born to power and wealth shamefully attractive.

But the contrasts Leonora and Charlotte found in their first acquaintance with life in London also shocked them: the extravagant splendours of the rich were but the cream on the top of a society where there was also poverty, unimagined by them in their country existence. They had stared in horror at the half-feral children in rags who scavenged with stray dogs for scraps of food, or begged a farthing from passers-by. In the country, most families had a strip of land on which they could grow a few potatoes or root crops, and there was usually a rabbit or bird to be caught for the pot. Their own village was a community in which most of the landowners looked after their tenants, and Reverend and Mrs Mildmay too were diligent in collecting and distributing alms to the poor.

As they walked towards Leicester Square, Charlotte grasped Mrs Priddy's arm, distressed by the sight of wounded ex-soldiers, destitute and disfigured, congregated in small bands in a churchyard. ‘Where do these heroes who have fought for their country find comfort and food?' Her voice was urgent.

Mrs Priddy responded with sympathy, ‘It is part of the ongoing suffering of wars. The wounded return too often to find themselves homeless and unable to work.'

Charlotte's voice was quiet. ‘I wish Lord Rokeby had not settled so much money on me and instead would set up homes and employment for the soldiers who came back wounded from the war.'

Soon they were crossing Leicester Square and queuing up by a small door at the beginning of Cranbourn Street. The tall brick rotunda that housed the Panorama loomed above them. Now that the war had curtailed travel even for the rich who had foregone their Grand Tours, this was the only way to experience the thrill of foreign lands. The excitement was palpable.

The eager customers were informed that in the main gallery, or ‘Large Circle' as Mr Barker liked to call it, would be displayed a view of the Battle of Vitoria, the decisive victory the previous year when the Marquess of Wellington had broken the back of the French army in the Peninsular War. The name alone inspired a surge of patriotic pride in English breasts and Leonora and Charlotte joined the excited procession through the dimly lit corridor and up the stairs to the first viewing platform.

Here the emergence from dark to dazzling light was a shock to the senses. Everyone seemed disorientated for a moment. Charlotte exclaimed, ‘Look! It's as if we're actually there, watching from a hilltop.' The windowless viewing platform was intentionally kept dark so as to better show the spectacle on the canvas before them, bathed in the natural light flooding down from the glass-domed roof.

Leonora pointed to the painted canvas that encircled them in a vast panorama; an endless vista of distant hazy mountains with at its centre the medieval walled city of Vitoria, its cathedral spires soaring above the plains of the river Zadorra. Everywhere were hundreds of meticulously painted French and British, Spanish and Portuguese soldiers on horseback or with their artillery aimed into the field of battle.

‘What's happening here?' Charlotte asked, pointing at a collection of officers on horseback, with Wellington identified in the centre by his long hooked nose. Just as she turned to look for Leonora, she found herself gazing into the face of Captain Ormonde. ‘Oh!' She was shocked to see him there.

He smiled, teeth gleaming in the low light. ‘Good day to you, Miss Blythe.' He turned to bow to Leonora and Mrs Priddy, murmuring, ‘Ladies. The whole of Society will traipse through these doors, so great is the excitement for this new panorama.'

Charlotte realised he was the best person to be a guide to what was depicted of the battle. ‘Were you at Vitoria, sir?' she asked.

Captain Ormonde took her elbow and steered her farther along the platform, away from Leonora and Mrs Priddy. He looked down at her, the lack of light making Charlotte aware of the unexpected intimacy of the space. His voice was low. ‘I was there, 'tis true. Lord Wellington requested some strategic advice learnt from the debacle of Corunna.'

Leonora, with Nanny P in her wake, hurried to catch up with them, aware of her responsibility and the words of Mr Lockwood. She kept her eyes on Charlotte's new straw bonnet as they were carried on the tide of viewers. Charlotte's admiration for Captain Ormonde grew as he explained the complex troop movements, relayed what the Marquess of Wellington had confided to him – all complimentary – and pointed out where on the field of battle his horse was shot from under him. His narrow eyes were watching her as her warmth of response was reflected in her glowing expression. She tipped her face up to meet his eyes and said with fervour, ‘Captain, I have only recently come to consider just what you military men risk and sacrifice to keep us and our country safe. That you are all heroes.'

He inclined his dark head and his eyes appeared black, his voice insinuating. ‘Some are more heroic than others, Miss Blythe.'

Charlotte was not going to be disabused of her new-found enthusiasm for military heroes in general. She shook her head and said, ‘No, I think anyone who goes to war and faces such terrors is heroic indeed.'

Leonora had caught up with them when she saw Captain Ormonde bend his head and she could just make out his response. ‘Some decorated soldiers appear to be heroes fighting for their country when they are really working for the enemy.'

Charlotte was puzzled. ‘How can that be, sir? Who could ever manage such deception on the field of battle?'

‘You should ask the remaining Rokeby brother; he is a relation of yours now.' He pointed to two English hussars in a huddle in the foreground of the panorama. ‘Those cavalry men could be Wellington's exploring officers, as in fact were the Earl and his brother, meant to ride behind enemy lines to bring back information to Lord Wellington. A dangerous mission indeed. But they could just as well have been clandestine spies for Bonaparte taking information of the British troop positions back to the enemy.'

Leonora interrupted with a sharp riposte. ‘You are full of insidious words, sir. Why so shabby?' She felt Mrs Priddy's hand squeezing her arm in warning, but her sense of justice recoiled from the thought of Lord Rokeby's reputation sullied by a fellow officer, with no hearing of his defence.

They were standing in the twilight of the viewing platform while the crowds eddied around them, some muttering in irritation. Captain Ormonde turned his dark eyes on Leonora, his charming demeanour having fled. ‘Would it not stick in the craw of any fighting man to have one of his fellow officers honoured with the greatest gallantry medal in the land if there was any question over how treacherous his behaviour or his brother's may have been?'

‘Might I suggest, Captain Ormonde, that you either take your evidence to the military panel or you desist from sullying the Earl's name.'

Mrs Priddy stepped forward. ‘Come, my dears, we should be going.' She turned to Captain Ormonde and smiled. ‘We are due back at Bucklebury House, but we hope to see you again.' Charlotte and Leonora offered their hands and bade polite farewells.

‘Good day. I will see you at the Hungerford ball. I heard that Lord Dearlove has obtained your invitations.' Captain Ormonde clicked his heels together and bowed.

As they walked home, Mrs Priddy remonstrated with Leonora. ‘I really don't think it's wise, my dear, to fight the Earl's battles for him.'

Leonora's spirits were unsettled enough by her own emotions. Having both Rokeby brothers accused of possibly being traitors enraged her. Yet the fact there were rumours, that even Lord Dearlove had mentioned at their musical evening, made her uneasy and all the more emphatic in their defence. She turned to Charlotte and said, ‘I think it's despicable for him to spread such scurrilous rumours. And about your own father, Lottie!'

Charlotte sprang to Captain Ormonde's defence. ‘The Captain seems to have played an important part as an aide to the Marquess of Wellington. He has not accused my father directly of anything; in fact, he seems as much exercised by the current Earl. Surely an officer and a gentleman would not lie about such a thing?'

This was the first time Charlotte had publicly disagreed with Leonora, who was taken aback. ‘Lottie! This is your father and uncle he chooses to defame. Beware of thinking any one person the repository of truth. You can only be disappointed.'

Charlotte tossed her head. ‘My father will always be a hero to me and like him, I'm willing to sacrifice myself for the greater good. But I consider Captain Ormonde a hero too.'

Leonora held her tongue, and catching Nanny P's eye, thought to herself that this insistence on the heroic was the effect of too much gothic fiction on young susceptible minds.

As the women arrived back in Brook Street, the butler took their bonnets and pelisses and said in his gloomy way, ‘Her ladyship would like to see you in the drawing room.'

They mounted the stairs and Mrs Priddy said, ‘I'll join you later. I need a rest after the day's exertions,' as she continued up the next flight of stairs.

Leonora and Charlotte knocked and entered the drawing room. Lady Bucklebury was sitting in her favourite wing chair by the fire, her thin, blue-veined hands stitching a tapestry that appeared to be of her coat of arms. ‘Sit down, my dears.' She waved to the sofa opposite. For the first time, Leonora thought she looked more frail than forbidding. ‘Well, tell me, was the Panorama worth the entrance fee?'

‘Oh, certainly so, Grandmama. We met Captain Ormonde and he was very interesting, talking about the troop movements.' Charlotte was enthusiastic.

Lady Bucklebury's shrewd eyes missed nothing. ‘Don't go setting your sights too low, young miss. I've heard he is a wild young man who has run through his fortune and is casting his line towards many an heiress. I have no intention of your squandering yourself and your fortune on a young reprobate with pockets to let.'

Leonora was pleased by Lady Bucklebury's forthright opinion on the matter and glanced at Charlotte whose eyes were cast down. Unable to contain her curiosity much longer, Leonora asked as nonchalantly as she could, ‘Lady Bucklebury, as we walked through Grosvenor Square we noticed trunks being unloaded from the Rokeby coach into a house on the east side. Do you know if the Earl has come to Town?'

The old lady put down her embroidery and met her eyes with her own quizzical gaze. ‘I received a note from Alistair yesterday. He's been summoned to receive a posthumous Peninsular Gold Cross on behalf of his brother. I don't know when he will be leaving again for Hasterleigh. He does not care to stay long in Town.'

Leonora tried to keep her face as expressionless as she could, but her heart had begun its breathless rhythm; the room felt hot and she stood up to leave. Lady Bucklebury put out a hand. ‘Not so fast, young lady! I have yet to tell you the most important news. Lord Dearlove was true to his word. His charm seems to have worked and I have invitations for you and Charlotte!' She flourished the thick invitation cards with the ducal crown embossed in gilt. ‘It looks like it's a masquerade ball, encouraging a greater licence of behaviour. Mrs Priddy will have to accompany you young women as I cannot allow only Miss Appleby to chaperone you, Charlotte.'

Charlotte jumped up, her face alight. ‘Oh Grandmama, how exciting! I've never been to a masquerade ball.'

‘The Duchess's ball is the smartest and most exclusive of the Season and I think you girls need extra help with dressing your hair. I'll ask my friend Lady Dundas to send one of her maids.'

Leonora escaped upstairs to her room. She did not want to think about the ball, but longed instead to soothe her soul with music, but the piano-forte was in the drawing room where Lady Bucklebury still sat embroidering. Instead, she threw herself on her bed. How she longed to see Lord Rokeby again, to speak to him, to discover the truth not of Captain Ormonde's terrible slurs, but mostly to know the measure of his feelings for Madame Dupré, an obsession she could not dismiss from her mind.

Charlotte knocked at the door and entered, bubbling with excitement about the ball. Leonora summoned a smile. How much her young friend had gained in confidence and courage since her life had expanded with the knowledge of her parentage; she had found her place in the world.

‘Why so glum, Leonora? This is all so diverting, don't you think?'

‘Of course it is! We must sort out our most special ball gowns and acquire some masks.'

‘Oh, Grandmama has said we can choose from her collection of Venetian masks from her younger days. Once we've chosen our dresses then we can see which ones look most becoming.' And she skipped out the door.

The day of the Hungerford ball was wet and windy. Charlotte and Leonora were up early but they decided to forgo their walk in Hyde Park, not wishing to spoil their hair that had been carefully curled in rags overnight. Having selected their gowns, gloves, jewellery, dancing shoes and evening cloaks, they discussed with Mrs Priddy and Amy the kind of elaborate hair styles that would be suitable for a more formal ball. Even Leonora had felt her excitement rise. At eleven in the morning, the doorbell rang and George Lockwood was shown into the small sitting room where the two young women, seeking some respite from Lady Bucklebury's forceful character, were pretending to read. They both leapt to their feet, delighted to see him. In a society of artifice and lies, he brought memories of the simple joys of home.

‘Good day, Miss Appleby, Miss Blythe.' He bowed and took their hands in turn. His hair was blown by the wind and spots of rain glistened on his immaculate coat.

‘We are glad to see you, Mr Lockwood!' Charlotte held onto his hand with enthusiasm.

He turned to them and with a twinkle in his eyes said, ‘Would you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to the Countess of Hungerford's ball tonight? I think we need a Hasterleigh contingent, don't you?'

Leonora said, ‘We would be delighted.' Then with her own mischievous gleam added, ‘I thought you may be accompanying Lady Livia, whose social attractions are more obvious than ours.'

George Lockwood gave a great hearty laugh. ‘That young lady is a honeypot attracting suitors like wasps. She has many admirers buzzing round her head whom she bats away with disdain. I do not intend to be one of them.'

‘And I dare say, being chatelaine of Hasterleigh Manor might not provide a large enough stage for someone of her amour propre ?'

George Lockwood flashed Leonora a sharp look. ‘Miss Appleby, I did not know you for a pert lass!' Then he chuckled. ‘'Tis true, I don't think the Manor is a natural habitat for that rare bird.' Charlotte and Leonora exchanged looks and laughed with him, each still nurturing their own ambitions for the other as the perfect match for this good-natured man, in possession of two estates and in need of a competent wife.

He turned to go, saying, ‘I'll collect you at seven in my coach. 'Til then!' He saluted and was soon down the front steps and away.

Preparations for the ball began in the afternoon. Lady Bucklebury's friend, Lady Dundas, had been happy to lend her ladies' maid and as Leonora and Charlotte were beginning to climb into their chemises and stays, Amy knocked on Charlotte's door and entered, accompanied by a woman. ‘Miss Blythe, this is Flora Lacey, she's here to help.'

Charlotte had just put on her new Parisian stays, which needed lacing. She looked up and met the maid's gaze; she was modestly dressed in her uniform of a simple dark blue high-necked dress of crisp cotton with a narrow lace trim round the cuffs. Charlotte liked her serene face with striking hazel eyes and approved of the fact she was older and looked more sensible than Amy. ‘I'm pleased to meet you, Flora, especially as I'm in need of some help with the lacing.' She smiled.

Charlotte had chosen the most beautiful of the evening gowns Mrs Marmery had made for her. The palest pink gauze over an underlayer of shimmering tiffany silk in oyster looked as iridescent as the inside of a shell. With Flora's help she slipped it over her head and the maid buttoned the tiny pearl buttons up the back. The women stood back and gazed at Charlotte's reflection in the looking glass. They both gasped. ‘You are lovely, Miss Blythe!' Flora's words were so heartfelt that Charlotte looked at her more intently. The maid blushed and lowered her eyes. ‘I hope I didn't speak out of turn.'

Putting her hand on her arm, Charlotte said, ‘Not at all, Flora. It's a very special dress and makes me believe in myself and my future. I've only recently realised that clothes can have such transforming power.' She sat down at the dressing table so that this new maid could arrange her hair in a style Leonora had found in La Belle Assemblée . As Flora brushed out the fine fair curls, Charlotte noticed her hands were trembling. ‘You have no reason to be nervous. I'm the least particular taskmistress you could find. I'm just grateful that you could help.' She smiled into the looking glass where Flora's eyes met hers.

After an hour of teasing, plaiting and pinning, anchoring strings of seed pearls and small silk flowers into the blonde confection of the style, Charlotte felt lulled by the quiet competence of Flora's fingers. ‘You're so good at this. You haven't once pulled my hair or prodded me with a pin.' Again, she caught the maid's eyes in the looking glass and wondered if their brightness was due to tears. Interrupting this thought was a knock at the door and Leonora entered, swishing her skirts as she twirled. Her chestnut curls were swept onto the top of her head with a few tendrils making the style soft and romantic. Amy had added a small plume of silver-grey feathers to complement her dress. ‘You look beautiful, Leonora. I love your gown. It's that special silver one you bought from Mrs Marmery, isn't it?'

‘Yes. It's my favourite by far.' She was holding a silver mask by its string. ‘You look like a rosy pearl, Lottie. You'll be the jewel of the night.'

‘And look how beautifully Flora has done my hair.' She stood up and took Leonora's hands and they danced a few turns together. ‘We'll both be the belles of the ball.'

‘We must hurry. Mr Lockwood will be here in a moment.'

Lady Bucklebury called out to them as they passed the drawing room door. ‘Come in, my dears.' They walked over to her chair by the fire, where she sat bright as a bird. Her usually severe expression had softened. ‘Goodness! You both look pretty as pictures.' She clasped her hands together. Then her sharp dark eyes settled on Charlotte's naked décolletage, enhanced by the Parisian stays she had insisted her great-granddaughter buy. ‘My dear, you need some pearls. Here, take mine.' The Countess unclasped the double strand of pink pearls she always wore with a beautiful large baroque pearl at its centre and handed it to Leonora for her to fasten round Charlotte's neck. ‘Very pretty indeed!' Lady Bucklebury said with satisfaction. ‘I hope it's a successful evening. Be on the alert, young misses, and mind what Mrs Priddy says.'

Charlotte put her hands to her throat where she felt the pearls, still warm from her great-grandmother's skin, and tears came to her eyes. It seemed another small gesture of acceptance by the matriarch of this noble family. ‘Thank you, Grandmama. I shall care for them greatly.' In a spontaneous gesture, she dashed to the old lady's side and brushed her cheek with a kiss.

‘Oh, be gone with you!' was the brusque reply, but Leonora noticed how Lady Bucklebury's posture relaxed and she lost her imperious mien. Charlotte and Leonora bobbed a quick curtsey and ran down the last flight of stairs to where Mrs Priddy waited, already dressed in her warm velvet cloak and gloves, her bonnet on her head.

The front door was opened and there was George Lockwood in the best-fitting jacket his tailor Meyer could construct. Dark blue and of superfine wool, it looked as if it was moulded to his broad shoulders and skimmed close over his muscular arms. His cravat, usually carelessly tied, was pristine, intricately folded and secured with a large diamond pin. Pale pantaloons, so unforgiving on a fleshier man, were beautifully cut to accommodate with elegance Mr Lockwood's athletic thighs. His large feet were somehow reduced to the required almond toe by his shiny black dancing shoes; this was a man happy in his Town clothes now that he had chosen his own tailor who understood how to dress the robust masculine physique.

As George Lockwood removed his hat to greet them, Leonora was gratified to see that no amount of careful ministrations from his valet, armed with brush and pomade, could tame his wayward hair.

Both young women were struck by how good-looking Mr Lockwood appeared. He too seemed transfixed for a moment by the sight of them. His bluff, sunny expression was unexpectedly serious and appraising as he watched Charlotte descend the stairs, her fair hair ringleted, the pearlescent gown falling from her shapely bosom. He put out his gloved hand to take hers. ‘Miss Blythe, ladies,' he addressed them all, ‘your carriage awaits.'

Mrs Priddy had been watching Charlotte and Mr Lockwood's eyes as this sudden revelation of their attraction to each other occurred. She had wanted it to be her beloved Leonora who caught George Lockwood's imagination and would thus be saved from leaving her childhood home but, although Charlotte and he may not yet have recognised it themselves, Nanny P understood that for them their worlds had shifted, and she was glad.