‘Get Henrietta off your hands and you will see Caroline follow suit,’ declared Lord Elstead. His lady looked thoughtful. ‘Trust me on this.’

‘I hope you are right, my lord, but … yes, I will trust you.’

Lady Elstead went to her bed, putting from her mind any unchristian thoughts of showing Henrietta off in unbecoming gowns, or hinting at an inclination to the consumptive habit. In fact, the opposite was true.

CHAPTER TWO

When Henrietta awoke next morning, it was only upon full consciousness that she realised where she lay. The bed was comfortable, much more so than those at the posting houses upon her journey, be the sheets never so aired, and she stretched luxuriously. A fire was already alight in the grate, and Henrietta, normally a light sleeper, acknowledged just how tired she must have been. She rang for her maid, and hoped Sewell, who had found fault with almost everything beyond the borders of Shropshire on their journey, would be in a more positive frame of mind. In this she was to be disappointed.

‘Never have I been in such a noisy, unwholesome place in all my born days, Miss Henrietta.’

‘I slept very well,’ offered Henrietta.

‘Yes, miss, but you was done to a cow’s thumb, as well I know, and would have slept sound if the house itself had taken fire. Now, will you be wishful to take your breakfast in your bed or …’

‘Oh no, I think it only polite to present myself properly before my aunt at a good hour. I fear that yesterday I was monosyllabic, and besides, I wish to make the acquaintance of my cousins.’

Her aunt had informed her that whilst of course the younger Felbridges were still at their studies, in school or at the Elstead family seat, both Caroline and James, Caroline’s elder brother, were in residence, and eager to meet their cousin. It had only been a pity that Caroline was at a dressmaker’s fitting, and James not yet returned from an engagement with one of his friends. Refreshed by slumber, Henrietta was hoping she would match their expectations.

When she went downstairs and was shown to the breakfast parlour by the butler, who introduced himself as Barlow, she found only the Honourable James Felbridge at his repast. He almost jumped to his feet, and, had anyone asked, would have instantly declared that his cousin far outstripped any expectations he had of her, although those had been very vague. That her gown was not in this year’s fashion, and her hair styled in a manner that had echoes of the schoolroom about it, struck him not at all. What he beheld, as he later confided to his crony Mr Carshalton, was ‘a vision’. He swallowed hard, twice, and made her a bow.