And Aretine. Sir George admitted to a twinge of pleasure at the memory. Christopher Aretine, always known as Kit, friend of Jack Donne, and dead, Sir George supposed, these many years. Kit Aretine was the only Aretine Sir George knew of, though it was possible there were more. Lady Margaret would know; she knew all the leading families.

Sir George had never met Kit Aretine, though he had heard him spoken of a hundred times in his youth. The wildest man in England, Jack Donne used to say, a man who could outfight, outwit and outlove any man in England. A rogue with the ladies, a wit, a poet, and a man who had been put in the Tower by King James. Somehow he had got himself out, but only at the price of perpetual banishment from England.

Sir George puffed at his pipe, wreathing himself with smoke, and tried to remember what else he knew of Aretine. A bad poet, Sir George seemed to remember, too much passion and not enough discipline. He must be dead now. Once a man got into print, Sir George knew, he developed a taste for more, and Aretine had not published these twenty years or more. Dear God! What could a dead poet have to do with the Slythe family?

Toby said the girl was beautiful, and Sir George made a scornful noise at the memory. Any girl was beautiful if you were twenty-four, just as any food looked appetizing to a hungry man. Sir George walked back to his chair, regretting the empty bookshelves about him. The volumes were packed away, ready to travel.

At least Toby had promised him one thing. He would return to Lazen Castle as soon as this foolish business with the girl was done. Sir George feared, feared mightily, that his son might marry the Slythe girl on the way, but Toby had promised to talk to his mother first. Sir George smiled.

Lady Margaret Lazender would end the girl’s hopes. Sir George almost felt sorry for her, pitted against such a formidable enemy. Sir George had sent a letter with the Earl of Fleet, that would reach Lazen Castle long before Toby did. It forewarned Lady Margaret, and a forewarned Lady Margaret was even more dangerous.

“The girl is, bye Tobie’s owne Account, quite Unlettered except in the Scriptures. She knoes No Manners except Those of the Puritans, and her Birthe ye knowe as well as I.

“The Girl has Persuaded Tobie, bye Means I scarce credit, that she must inherit Monie. It is a Fancifull tale, a romance as headie as Tobie’s braines.”

Sir George remembered the letter. Did his son not know he must marry money? Dear God! The Old House at Lazen needed tiling and the watermill must have a new shaft. Sir George knew what the old shaft had cost in his grandfather’s time and he dreaded to think what it must be at today’s prices. If Toby did not marry money then the rents at Lazen would have to be raised and that was a step Sir George and Lady Margaret shrank from.