‘Have you seen what we have to wear? One looks a positive fright, it costs a huge amount that would buy at least four other, and far nicer, gowns, and …’

‘So you would mind less if the cost were for some garment you felt flattering? Is that not vanity, Miss Gaydon?’ He looked at her, laughter in his grey eyes.

‘No, because it is a garment one may wear only the once and then it is set aside. One may wear other gowns time and again, as long as they are not worn every evening of the week.’

‘So you complain upon grounds of economy.’

‘Do you ever think of economy, Mr Newbold?’ She looked at him squarely, and he was, for a moment, taken aback, but she was clearly in earnest.

‘Not as such. I mean I do not concern myself at the cost of running my establishments, or how much a coat will cost from my tailor. I therefore do not think of “economising” but I do, though you would be surprised to hear it, think of “the economy” of the nation.’

‘You do?’ Henrietta did not conceal her surprise.

‘Yes. You see, if one is very wealthy, and I make no pretence that I am not, it is wise to observe, and ensure that one’s funds do not diminish. I am quite prepared to sit down with my man of business and discuss both the state of the country and its implications for my coal mines. Does that shock you?’

‘No … yes, a little, sir.’

‘Because you think my existence one of idleness, or that discussing such matters smacks of trade?’

‘I think’ – and Henrietta’s brows drew together – ‘because I assumed that wealth naturally breeds wealth, and that as long as one does not squander it upon gambling, it is self-perpetuating. However, I know my papa takes an interest in how the wool clip has sold on the Home Farm, and the price of wheat and wool, to ensure his tenants pay a rent that is fair, neither so high it reduces them to giving up their tenancy, nor so little as to hand them all the profit. That is much the same thing on a smaller scale.’

‘And your papa is not a poor man.’

‘No, but …’ There was something in the statement that made Henrietta put her head on one side. ‘You make it sound as if he too were rich.’

‘Is he not?’

‘He is not impoverished. At least he was not until he had to pay for my court dress.’

Mr Newbold, who had gathered from report in the clubs that Sir John Gaydon was a man of some substance in the Marches, refrained from pressing the matter, and returned to the forthcoming presentation. After all, it mattered not a jot to him whether the man was wealthy, rich as Croesus, or mortgaged up to the hilt.