Dashell and Caroline

By Elizabeth Chanter

For Caroline, a woman whose very identity is a mystery, nothing is certain-except the love she and Dashell share. Now that crucial missing documents have been found, she has the answer to one of her biggest questions: her name. With that information in hand, she and Dashell can now begin to plan their wedding and her future as Lady Lonsdale. Das

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Jan 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643453316

Elizabeth Chanter

Elizabeth Chanter was born in London, England and emigrated to Canada in 1966 and settled in Vancouver for a number of years. Although coming from London she was more of a country woman at heart, preferring the country life and found even Vancouver too much city. In 1973 she moved to Victoria on Vancouver Island.This was more to her liking as she found accommodation where she could have pets. So there began a succession of cats and dogs, but not all the same time. She also enjoyed joining craft fairs as a vendor, joining activities usually associated with smaller communities and made numerous friends.Elizabeth is now retired (at least on paper, technically speaking) and is living in an apartment block for active seniors, where- alas-no pets are allowed.

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Acknowledgments

I would like to express my thanks and appreciation to the members of the Cedar Creek Writers’ Group, Shawnigan Lake, Vancouver Island, British Columbia, for their interest and helpful comments. In particular, I would like to mention one member, Elizabeth Symon, for her continual encouragement, chiefly because she was anxious to read the next episode so she could know what happened and for her patient reading of my original rough notes.

My thanks also to Judy Baxter, library manager of the South Cowichan Regional Library, in Mill Bay, Vancouver Island, and her staff for their assistance.

Finally, my thanks to Manuel Erickson, for his considerable encouragement and helpful critiques and for editing this sequel.

Author’s Comments

There is no such place as Becket Lane in Fulham, there is no village of Sutherfield in Sussex, nor is there a village called Skorrcliff in Yorkshire. They will not be found on any map.

Any description of landscape or terrain beyond Pateley Bridge is from the author’s imagination.

The Darley Arabian and Eclipse were real horses. All others are named from the author’s imagination.

Some references and incidents in this sequel may be puzzling to those who have not read the first book. Reading The House on Becket Lane should make things clear.

Chapter One

Caroline Learns Many Things

It was quite late when Caroline awakened, slowly at first, as though the sleeping potion was reluctant to let go. She lay in a state of confusion of strange dreams and hazy recollections, and it was some minutes before she realized she was not in a familiar room. She stirred anxiously and cried out for Hannah, who came at once.

Miss Caroline! Oh, thank goodness you are awake. How do you feel?

I’m not sure. My arm aches. My face feels stiff one side. And my mouth hurts. I don’t know where I am, Hannah, but I am glad you are here. What room is this? Her speech was slurred and slow because of her injuries.

We are in the house of Lady Smythe, Lord Lonsdale’s aunt, who kindly gave us shelter.

Caroline stared at her, still not comprehending. She tried to speak again but could only cough because her throat was so dry. Hannah fetched some water in a cup from the ewer on the washstand and began to give her sips to help ease her throat.

Thank you, Hannah, she managed to say.

Hannah put the things back on the washstand then came and sat carefully on the bed. Now, Miss Caroline, I don’t really want to push you, but I must ask you this: What is the last thing you remember?

Caroline leaned back on her pillows and tried to think, passing her right hand over her forehead only to wince when she touched it. The last thing I remember? she repeated slowly. Gradually, the horror came back. Papa. Oh, yes, I remember. I was going downstairs, and he was coming up. He waved a newspaper about and was very angry about something. He . . . he taunted me about Lord Lonsdale. Oh, it was horrible. May I have a little more water, please?

After a few more sips, she continued, I saw him raise his cane and then I felt pain in one arm. Then he seized my other arm and dragged me into my bedroom, at least I think it was. And I remember crying out again, and I think I remember falling to the floor. She carefully touched her bandaged arm. Is that how it got hurt? Papa did it, but why? I don’t remember what happened afterwards.

Hannah could have hugged her. Yes, he did, dear. But oh, thank goodness you can remember even that. It shows you will get better. I know you will. And do not worry anymore about your papa. Lord Lonsdale would never let him hurt you again. He doesn’t even know you are here.

Caroline felt relieved about that and asked, How long have I been here?

Two days.

Two days! she echoed. But how did I get here?

It’s a very long story, dear, far too much to tell you now. I sent Johnny to find Lord Lonsdale, and he came, and Dr. Meldicott came and bound up your arm and soothed your other hurts. Then we all left the house. Lord Lonsdale carried you downstairs and into the cab and upstairs here when we arrived.

He carried me? echoed Caroline in wonder.

Yes, dear, just like you were a feather. And then when in the cab, you regained consciousness for a few moments. Do you remember?

No, not a thing.

Well, you did. And when you lapsed back again, he gently kissed your face, your hair. Oh, I’m sure he loves you, Miss Caroline, she concluded, beaming happily at her. Oh, mercy me, here am I talking away to you when I should be telling Lady Smythe you are awake and almost yourself again. With that, she bustled away.

Caroline rested on the pillows again and held the top of the bedsheet to her with her good hand as though holding something precious. What were those dear words Hannah said? He carried you. He kissed you gently. She gave a little start when the door opened and Lady Smythe came in, followed by Hannah.

Caroline, my dear, I am so pleased to hear you have regained your senses and that you can recall things. I know of one person who will be very pleased.

Thank you, Lady Smythe. You are very kind to take me in, and Hannah also, replied Caroline slowly and carefully.

Tush, girl. What else could I do when Dashell asked me to do so? There was nowhere else you could go. Caroline could think of nothing to say to that but still felt she was imposing upon Lady Smythe’s goodness. Now, I can see it pains you to talk, so I will not stay. I will have my cook bring you some nourishing soup. You must be feeling quite hungry.

While the two of them waited, Hannah smoothed out the sheets and plumped up the pillows, as Caroline carefully asked, Did Dashell—Lord Lonsdale—come into this room at all? I thought I heard him speaking to me, only a few words I think. I don’t know what he said. Or was it just a dream? Perhaps it was. I don’t remember.

Yes, he did, replied Hannah, as she tenderly brushed out Caroline’s hair, but I am not sure how long he stayed. Lady Smythe may know, for they came out together, I believe.

Caroline did not like the idea of asking Lady Smythe so let the matter drop. Instead, she asked, Where is Johnny? Is he all right?

Yes, he is. Lord Barrandale kindly allowed him to stay with the stablemen at Barrandale House.

So that means no one is at Becket Lane at all, except Papa?

Yes, that’s right, dear. Well, I suppose he’s there, though I don’t know who will ‘do’ for him. Nor did she care.

I seem to have caused a lot of trouble, said Caroline with a sigh.

It’s not you who has caused any trouble, Hannah reminded her grimly.

The soup had been brought up, and Caroline had managed to swallow some carefully, which pleased Hannah. Another sign she was going to get better. Hannah gathered up the dishes and took the tray downstairs to the kitchen. On her return, she found Caroline sitting up expectantly.

Hannah, you must tell me more. Please.

Oh my. There is so much to tell you, but I don’t think you are strong enough yet.

Whatever do you mean?

Just that, Miss Caroline. But there is one piece of wonderful news I must tell you, and that is birth certificates have been found for you and Miss Maude.

Birth certificates found! Caroline’s voice cracked in her excitement. You mean Mother hid them away, like all those jewels?

Well, no, not exactly. Your papa had them, and we think he stole them away from her. So after a lot of searching, Johnny found them in a secret cupboard in your papa’s room downstairs. I must show them to you for they are now here in a drawer for safekeeping.

Caroline looked at the two certificates in wonder and joy as Hannah handed them to her. How I wish Maude had seen these. What a difference it would have made to us. And Mother was going to tell us in her own good time. I wonder why. Oh, Hannah, will we ever understand what really happened? Look at my name: Caroline Diana Waterton. I like the name Waterton. And my father was Sir Arthur Waterton, just some country gentleman. And look, there’s that name which you could never recall—Sutherfield—a village in Sussex, and we were planning to go to Sussex, weren’t we?

And now you need never use that name Wardlock again, Hannah pointed out.

No, never again, repeated Caroline slowly. She laid the documents down and thought for a moment. You know, Hannah, even if Lady Smythe allows us to remain here, we cannot do so indefinitely. What are we going to do? Where can we go, for did you not tell me that Lord Lonsdale said I was not to set foot in that house again?

We cannot worry about that just yet, Miss Caroline, for it is more important for you to get better. Anyway, I haven’t finished yet. You will never guess what else Johnny found. I’ll go and fetch it. So saying, she went away, leaving Caroline in a state of wonder. What other surprise could there be?

Hannah came back carrying the portrait with a joyful look on her face. Johnny found it in a room right at the top of the house. Here you are! She turned it round for Caroline to see, and Caroline, confused by the youthfulness of the man, thought it was a brother. No, dear, this was painted years ago by your mother. This is your father.

Caroline gave a little scream. Another one of Mother’s secrets? She faltered. My father? She collapsed back on her pillows.

A conscious-stricken Hannah hastily put the painting down. Miss Caroline, what have I done! I should never have told you in such a fashion. I only wanted it to be a surprise.

Caroline, her thoughts in a whirl, could only repeat, I don’t understand.

A few minutes later, a more composed Caroline sat up in bed again, hardly able to take her eyes off the portrait which Hannah had left propped up on a chair for her to see. She had requested to be left alone to rest and to think.

In truth, Caroline was still in shock from being assaulted by her stepfather. She could feel her face was swollen on one side and one eye was closed, and one side of her mouth hurt. She went over again in her mind what Hannah had just told her. Round and round it went like a windmill. It terrified her that but for Hannah’s intervention, Papa might have killed her, and she could not imagine why he would want to do so anyway. She had been told briefly of Johnny’s part and doubtless she would hear his full story later.

Her mind dwelt mostly on her mother, the strong and courageous one, to whom her daughters had always turned and the question that always worried them: Why she never told them who their real father was? When all the time she had those documents in her possession and had hidden that portrait at the top of the house. And the time when they had spoken to their mother and she had run from the room, and when she returned, she begged them to say nothing more. Only shame or fear would have driven to her to such silence. And why did she keep all those jewels secretly hidden, preferring instead to struggle along as best she could? A feeling of desolation began to appear, and she tried to control the tears that wanted to come.

Caroline looked again at the portrait and on impulse slipped out of bed but felt shaky on standing up. Carefully, she made her way to the chair and picked up the portrait and sat down. After studying it for a while, she held it as close to her as she could, putting her arms round her father in the only way possible. How different their lives would have been with him instead of the strange, cold substitute they had. She read what was written on the back: "To my darling Arthur." Yet Hannah had said no death certificate for him was found, and Caroline was sure Mother would never have remarried if he had still been alive.

How she wished Maude had been able to see this portrait! They had both loved being at the academy, and Mother would have been so proud of them. Now she was gone. Maude was gone. Only she was left. All Mother’s struggles seemed wasted. What now all that education? She must think of her future and find some means of support, but all that came to mind was opening that tea shop somewhere in Sussex. But wait! She could write to Miss Osgood at the academy and ask if she had an opening for a teacher or did she know of one. But that might mean leaving her dear, kind Hannah. Once more the sails of the windmill turned.

She could not possibly marry Dashell even if he still wanted her to. What had she to offer him? She had no dowry. And had he not said his family had suddenly lost their wealth because of the foolish actions of one of his brothers? Brother! That was why Papa was so furious, waving that newspaper at her. There must have been something printed in it, and he used it as an excuse to quarrel with her. She was glad she had stood up to him in spite of the consequences.

Dashell had helped her so much. The forget-me-nots and pansies he had sent her and the roses given to her earlier had raised her spirits. She hoped Hannah had remembered to pack the sachet of dried petals and flowers—her precious keepsakes. She would never, never forget him. He had to marry some heiress or other to save his family. She wondered who her next of kin were and how she could find them. Would they be kind to her? She would sell some of the jewels and go to her birthplace and make some enquiries. Again, the windmill turned.

Those jewels! Her heart almost stopped, and she turned cold as yet another thought came to her. Had her father stolen those jewels and died afterwards? Was Mother too terrified to say anything? Perhaps she did not know how to return them, even if she had dared. She looked once more at the painting. That kindly looking man whom her mother had loved and who reminded her of Maude—a felon? There was no stopping the tears now, and there was only one eye open to release them.

By now, Caroline had a splitting headache, her thoughts unstoppable, making her injuries throb. Suddenly, she put the portrait down and hastened blindly and shakily to the basin on the washstand and thankfully reached it just in time. She poured herself a little water and swallowed a little, easing her throat. Then she poured a little onto a washcloth and tried to cool her face, and then to her embarrassment had to use it as a handkerchief, not knowing where her own were packed. Such humiliation. Feeling somewhat more at ease, she covered the basin with a towel, and as she turned to go, she caught sight of herself in a mirror and gave a cry of horror at her reflection. Her swollen face was now made worse from weeping.

The gentle sounds of sleep that had been coming from Hannah’s room suddenly stopped; and there were sounds of movement. Miss Caroline? Did you call?

Caroline turned quickly away still horrified at her reflection. She made a little run to her bed, but not being able to see properly she knocked into it and slipped to the floor and cried out once more.

Miss Caroline, whatever are you doing out of bed? Here, let me help you get up. Her strong arms soon had Caroline onto her feet and into bed. Now move your feet over and let me tuck you in.

I am so sorry, Hannah, Caroline managed to croak. I had to get to the basin, and I saw my reflection in the mirror. I feel so ashamed.

Hush now. Hannah put her arms round her young mistress and comforted her and then felt her burning forehead and feared she could be getting feverish. Her sharp eyes had noticed the altered positions of both chair and portrait and guessed what had happened. She chided herself. I am the one who should be sorry, dear, for telling you things too soon. I should have waited until you were stronger.

The basin, Caroline croaked again.

Don’t worry, dear. I will put everything right. Just lie back and close your eyes, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll close the curtains a little to shield you from the sunlight.

On her way downstairs, she had in mind to make them both a nice cup of tea and realized she would have to ask the cook first. Although they were glad to be away from Becket Lane, living there did have its advantages. The cook was slightly put out when Hannah asked where she might rinse out the basin and the washcloth and when she begged a little barley water to settle Miss Caroline’s stomach.

Once back in the bedroom, Hannah deftly wrung out the cloth in some water and moved over to the bed. How are you, Miss Caroline? she asked gently in case she was asleep.

About the same, came the weary reply. My poor face aches.

Here is a cold compress for you, said Hannah, as she laid the cloth on Caroline’s forehead with a practiced hand, and I have also requested a little barley water for you.

It sounds just like when we were children, remarked Caroline, but that reflection shocked me. I did not know I looked so awful.

Now, dear, stop fretting. With rest, you will get better. I know you will. And I blame myself too for you have had so much to contend with lately.

Hannah, persisted Caroline, please promise me you will not let Lord Lonsdale see me like this. I should be quite mortified.

Of course I will. He will understand. He is a gentleman.

There was a knock on the door from the maid who brought up the barley water, which Hannah answered at once. She did not wish Miss Caroline to be seen by any of the servants.

Now, Miss Caroline, try some of this. It will help to settle you. And when you have had enough, I must inform Lady Smythe.

Need you? She will think me quite foolish.

I am sure her ladyship will not. We must remember we are guests in her house, and at very short notice, and I did ask her servants for things without her prior knowledge.

Yes, of course you are right. Caroline sighed. Drinking slowly by the spoonful was tiring, and after a while, she put the bowl to one side. Thank you, Hannah.

All right, dear. I’ll leave it there, and you can have some more later. She laid her hand on Caroline’s forehead and thought it felt a little less feverish. I will give you a fresh compress before I go. A minute or two later, the door closed behind her.

Caroline looked quickly for the portrait, but Hannah had wisely moved it. Of course she had been upset over everything. She must learn to be strong and to have faith. One other thing she resolved to do was to stop calling her stepfather Papa. for he was not. From now on, she would refer to him, if she had to at all, as her Steppapa.

It was my fault, Lady Smythe, explained a contrite Hannah, but I was so wanting Miss Caroline to know the wonderful news.

Lady Smythe was sympathetic. I believe you did right. Caroline had to know. Please tell her not to worry about being here, for she is quite welcome. I will inform my nephew. and we will both respect her wish not to see her until she feels ready for us to do so. She felt a trifle doubtful about Dashell’s reaction to that, but he would have to wait. As soon as Caroline feels able to travel, she must stay in the country somewhere. The peace and quiet would help her considerably. I will enquire amongst my friends, and I am sure someone will allow her to stay with them.

Thank you, Lady Smythe, you are very kind.

Her ladyship graciously inclined her head and Hannah left the room.

Lady Smythe promptly wrote a note to Dashell requesting him to call. Her maid came back with the reply that Lord Lonsdale had left earlier that morning to go to Becket Lane, and it was not known when he would return.

Chapter Two

Happenings Continue

Such was the situation when Chadwick answered the door to Dashell’s knocking. We have been expecting you, Lord Lonsdale. Lady Smythe has been concerned about Miss Waterton.

Dashell’s heart missed a beat. Miss Waterton—Caroline? I will go up at once. Although he was anxious to see Caroline, manners required that he see his aunt first. He knocked briefly on the door of her salon and went straight in.

Dashell! cried his aunt. I am so glad you came. I sent you a note.

I have not been to the house yet. I came straight here from Becket Lane. But fearing the worst, he asked quickly, Is Caroline all right? Chadwick said you were concerned about her.

It’s just that she got out of bed without Hannah’s knowledge and had a fall, but let me reassure you—as she saw his anxious frown—it is not her actual hurts but her state of mind.

You mean her head injury is more serious that we thought? he asked.

No, no, nothing like that at all. Let me explain. So his aunt repeated almost word for word what Hannah had told her and what she said in reply.

Dashell sat back with a sigh of relief, thankful that Caroline was all right. Aunt Letty, you are wonderful. I agree. I think a stay in the country would do her a world of good. Now perhaps I should have a word with Hannah and ask her to reassure the dear girl, for we know what her future is going to be. Before I do, however, I have something important to tell you.

Oh? she said, wondering why he looked so intense.

Thomas Wardlock is dead. We found his body on the floor of his downstairs room. He discovered his black box empty of all papers, and it is my belief he intended to burn them, for he had lit a fire in the grate, only Johnny had found them first, and he must have had some kind of seizure.

Oh, said his aunt again, not knowing what else to say, except to think it was rather convenient.

We informed the authorities, who came and removed the body. He sensed his aunt was not particularly interested about that, so he changed the subject. Now, if I may, I would like to speak to Hannah.

Yes, of course. But wait a moment, I will have her come here. With that, she left the room and returned with a rather contrite Hannah.

Dashell saw this and tried to put her at her ease. My aunt has just been telling me of Caroline’s unhappiness and discomfort and her unfortunate fall. I only wish I could come and reassure her myself, but I know you will take the greatest care of her. She must not concern herself over her future either, for surely she knows what it is going to be.

Of course, Lord Lonsdale, Hannah said, simply and sincerely. I will tell Miss Caroline she has nothing to fear.

And now, Hannah, I have something to tell you, and that is that Thomas Wardlock is dead.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Well, sir, I suppose I should be sorry, but I am not. Nor will I pretend I am. He was a wicked man.

Dashell looked at her keenly. I will leave it to your discretion when to tell Caroline of the death of her stepfather.

Sir, this means we can now fetch that last box from the house in safety.

Ah, yes. That box. I believe Johnny wishes to speak to you about that and certain other matters concerning the house, now that Caroline inherits everything. He said nothing about the mutilated dresses. Thank you, Hannah, you may go.

When the door closed behind her, Lady Smythe grimly remarked, Well, all I can say is . . . is . . . well, perhaps it would be better to say nothing.

I know exactly how you feel, for I feel a great relief too. Dashell thought for a moment and said, It must be terrible to die and have nobody mourn your passing. Now, he continued briskly, I must go. Father will be wondering what is happening, although I told Johnny to inform Matthew where I was. He turned to go, but stopped. Oh, by the way, I want to speak to Hannah some time, perhaps tomorrow. His aunt looked faintly surprised. I have in mind to give Johnny some kind of reward for all his wonderful help. Maybe she could suggest something.

Dashell, you are so good. I truly admire you.

Now, Aunt Letty, don’t . . . don’t . . . well, whatever the word is, don’t, he begged.

Go away. She laughed at him, as he kissed her on both cheeks.

It took him only a few minutes to return to Barrandale House. I believe Lord Barrandale is waiting to see you, sir, Matthew informed him.

I bet he is. Dashell chuckled to himself. When Johnny returned, what message did he give you?

He said that you were at Grosvenor Square, and that you had instructed him not to say anything to anybody, not even Lord Barrandale. Dashell nodded. He always knew Johnny was reliable. I did pass all this on to his lordship.

Of course. He turned to go to his father, and with a brief knock on the door, he entered the room.

Come in, Dashell, come in. I was wondering how much longer you would be. Barrandale had been playing solitaire while waiting, but now left the card table and sat down in his favourite armchair, while Dashell settled himself in a chair opposite.

Barrandale placed the tips of his fingers together. Tell me, how did you get on with Wardlock when you returned the papers? What did you say to him, or what’s more important, what did he say to you?

Dashell looked at his father levelly. I never gave him the papers, nor did I speak to him. We found him dead when we arrived at the house. His body was in his downstairs room. Barrandale’s eyebrows rose considerably at this item of news. But I have a great deal to tell you, as you may guess. After discovering Wardlock’s body, I knew the authorities had to be informed, so I went to Scotland Yard.

Again, Barrandale’s eyebrows rose. Indeed? He could not help showing some aversion to that fact, which Dashell noticed.

I think, sir, you will understand once I explain.

Very well. I am listening.

Marshalling his thoughts carefully, Dashell related all that they had discovered in the house—why he had gone to the police, his impressions of Inspector Cockburn and Sergeant Springer, his conversation with the inspector who was astounded to learn of the real identity of the felon so long sought by them, their return to the house, Johnny’s helpfulness, the police saying they would be at the house again the next morning, and ending with his own request for anonymity.

When the two policemen had gone, he asked Johnny to show him where the thread had been attached across the top stairs, the attic where the portrait had been hidden, and the room where Isobel died. The incidents of the slashed dresses convinced him of Wardlock’s imbalance of mind or even outright insanity. His death did indeed solve a lot of problems. Caroline would inherit the property and all its contents, such as they were, except all the stolen goods, which by law had been seized by Inspector Cockburn; and he certainly did not inform the inspector of the violent suspicious deaths of Isobel and Maude. That would have been most unwise; let it be.

How, after stopping at the Bishop’s Head Inn, he went straight to Grosvenor Square to advise Aunt Letty and Hannah of Wardlock’s death. Caroline was not to be told yet. She had completely distressed herself over what Hannah had revealed about her real name, and the discovery of her father’s portrait, and especially why her mother had never told Maude or herself anything. All this had equally upset Hannah for not being more careful, and that Caroline had got out of bed without Hannah’s knowledge and on returning had slipped and fallen. She therefore did not wish anyone to see her until she felt ready to receive them. Hannah had told him in confidence that all Caroline’s weeping had suffused her face.

What a request, sighed Dashell to himself, just when he longed to put his arms round her and kiss away all her fears and say that her future was secure, to have and to hold.

Aunt Letty said that when Caroline is well enough to travel, she must go and stay in the country somewhere. She is going to write to one or two friends to see if they could accept her for a while.

That is exceedingly kind of her, remarked Barrandale. I think your aunt is as much intrigued by Caroline and her story as I am.

Yes, observed Dashell, I have had that impression. You are both very sympathetic people. And I must also write to the rector of Sutherfield. It will be interesting to see what his reply will be. He paused for a moment or two. There is one other matter I must attend to, and I am sure you will agree, and that is to give some suitable reward to Johnny. I really do not know what we all would have done without him.

I do most certainly agree, said Barrandale. What had you in mind, may I ask?

I’m not sure, replied Dashell slowly. That is why I wish to speak to Hannah.

Barrandale returned to his playing cards, and Dashell stayed where he was quietly thinking. To be honest, he was relieved Thomas Wardlock was dead—although it troubled his conscience to think so—and that he had been too late to speak to him. It would have been an unpleasant interview to say the least. He also wondered how Inspector Cockburn would get on with the cab driver that had come to the house each morning during the week. The man might be cooperative, but on the other hand, he might refuse to talk. He doubted if Cockburn would let him know; it was no concern of his now anyway.

His thoughts returned to Caroline, and he wondered what he could do to cheer her up. He would send her some flowers. What was it he had said in that second letter? I would send you a hundred pansies if I could. Tomorrow he would return to the flower sellers at St. Paul’s Cathedral, and on to Piccadilly Circus and Covent Garden if he had to, and buy all the pansies he could. He could just imagine Caroline’s surprise and delight.

Barrandale turned round in his chair to speak to Dashell and saw the smile on his face and turned back again with a smile of his own and left his son to his dreams.

Sir, said Dashell, some minutes later.

Yes, my son? enquired Barrandale gravely, looking up from his cards.

Do you remember that ring you gave Mother for your tenth wedding anniversary, the one with pearls and rubies?

Indeed I do. He had carefully chosen it for its meaning: pearls for a pearl of great price and rubies for a woman whose price is far above rubies.

Mother left it to me as an engagement ring for any future Lady Lonsdale.

Yes, I remember that too, except there is one serious drawback.

Yes, I know, agreed Dashell with a heavy sigh. Who is Caroline’s next of kin, meaning her nearest male relative, whom I must ask for permission to marry her for she is not of age? Well, I am sure we will find out sooner or later.

And I’ll find out the truth even if I have to drag it out of them, Dashell promised himself, remembering at the same time his father’s earlier warning.

What are you planning to do tomorrow?

I have a matter to attend to in the morning, replied Dashell, without saying what it was, and then speak to Hannah about Johnny, and then to Johnny later. Then the next day I shall go to Windsor for the ring—Simmonds will know where it is—and I should be back by dinnertime. He caught sight of his father’s look of surprise and laughed. Forty miles or so is nothing to Sparkle. His endurance is phenomenal.

Oh, then in that case perhaps I should transfer my concern to you for your endurance. Ah me, such is youth, quipped Barrandale, although no doubt I would have done the same at your age. He stood up from the table. I think I have had enough of cards for the time being. Matthew will be announcing dinner soon.

Chapter Three

The Next Day

Ever since returning to the stables, Johnny had been unusually quiet. He had to go and see Hannah and tell her about the ruined dresses and that it was his fault for leaving the knife where it could be seen. He still had to go to the livery stable and say that the horse and cart was no longer required as there had been an accident.

His plaintive sigh caught Matthew’s attention. Everything all right? he asked kindly.