Chapter 2 (no. 2)

Iphigenia's good nature yearned to solve this poor woman's problems by removing herself and her family, but Iphigenia's good sense told her that, not only was it an impractical impulse, but that it would not remove quite all Lady Wynleigh's problems. She contented herself with asking, 'May I sit down with you ma'am?'

With a mechanical civility, Lady Wynleigh replied, 'Why yes, of course. Please do.' She began looking around distractedly for an excuse to escape.

Iphigenia claimed her attention by placing one of her own gloved hands on that of Lady Wynleigh, preventing her aunt from continuing to clutch at her own skirts, ruinously crushing them. 'May I venture an apology for my mother's manner of expressing herself?' Iphigenia asked carefully.

Not entirely attending, the older woman replied, 'Pray, do not disturb yourself. ' She flapped her fan furiously and continued to look for an escape.

Iphigenia could not help laughing, which made Lady Wynleigh really take note of her. 'I suppose that one of us, at least, must appear at their ease, ma'am? Was that what you meant?'

'Well, no,' Lady Wynleigh replied. She was too much taken aback to continue her thoughts about what a dilemma she was in. Sighing, she added, 'But I suppose one of us must.'

'Both, ma'am, if we can manage it,' Iphigenia added, smiling conspiratorially. 'Shall I own myself to be feeling great apprehension at how you were to receive us here? I am aware of the manner in which my mother must have imposed on you.'

Her candour was disarming. Lady Wynleigh looked her directly in the eye for a moment, and then lowered her gaze, blushing. 'I am very pleased to be the means of creating reconciliation in the family. Although I married Wynleigh many years after ... after your parents' own marriage, I have never felt it right for a family to cut off one of its own. How awful for poor Adeline! To be without support and a family's care!' Lady Wynleigh shuddered in genuine sympathy. She continued softly, 'But I am glad not to have met her before Old Lord Wynleigh died. I do not know what I should have done then ...' her voice trailed off, and her unseeing eyes told of her worried introspection.

'We must consider it a fortunate circumstance, then, that he is no longer with us. My uncle certainly seems to have embraced the spirit of forgiveness,' Iphigenia added comfortingly.

Picking at some loose stitching on her skirt, Lady Wynleigh answered non-comittally, 'He has found some consolation in today's events.'

Trying to lighten her aunt's oppression, she inquired teasingly, 'My uncle mut have been greatly vexed with you when you came home today? You are lucky to escape with only a beating, no doubt?' She laughed, in the expectation of Lady Wynleigh joining in.

Instead, the lady glanced at Iphigenia sharply, before replying, 'I am glad that he was not as ill-pleased as he might have been,' She stood up immediately, unfurled her fan, and said absentmindedly as she walked away, 'Excuse me, please. I need to take a turn of the room.'

Iphigenia was dumbstruck. All at once, the awkwardness of her situation impressed itself on her, the general undesirability of being at Wynleigh, and the social discomfort she felt then, particularly - her mother, brother and uncle were all seated on the other side of the room engaged in conversation - to join them would occasion remark. Her aunt had left her on a double settee, and obviously did not desire her company as she walked around the room. Iphigenia glanced over to where Commander Aldace was re-stacking the music sheets. He threw a fleeting look in her direction, meeting her eye as if to congratulate her on so swiftly offending yet another member of the party. He turned his back to her, seeming to find extreme interest in a large floral arrangement in a tall vase near the piano.

Iphigenia was humiliated and angry all at once. She determined to show neither emotion, and made a great display of being delighted at the coincidence of discovering a small book on a gilt edged table beside her seat. She opened it up, flashed a look at Aldace over the top of the page, was gratified to see that he was looking in her direction, and began to read.

Almost immediately to her dismay, she discovered that she was reading a medical treatise, obviously written for the benefit of mariners, dealing with the identification of various physical complaints and how best to remedy them while at sea. She could feel Aldace's eyes on her. Whenever she encountered words such as suppurating, pus, gangrene or foetid. Although Aldace had resumed his study of the floral arrangement, Iphigenia knew that he was laughing at her, and she read on determinedly.

Before she was compelled to discover the best methods for ensuring a successful amputation, Waulmsley appeared and notified Lady Wynleigh that dinner was ready.

Lady Wynleigh folded her fan and quietly thanked Waulmsley, who took this as his signal to open the double doors to the dining room. He stood in silent disapproval at his post beside the buffet in readiness to dispense the wine. Lady Wynleigh offered her arm to Aldace, who took it with the greatest degree of affability that Iphigenia had hitherto seen him display to anyone. They waited for the rest of the party to assemble, but Lodr Wynleigh strode up to them and threw his wife's arm off that of Aldace. Lady Wynleigh cast her eyes to the floor, the fan in her hand trembling slightly. Aldace himself appeared first surprised and then outraged at the behaviour, but he managed to suppress these emotions and waited to see what else would happen.

Brusquely, Wynleigh demanded of his wife, 'Devil take it, woman! Do you think that I should lead my own sister in to dinner?' He weaved a little on his feet and his face was flushed with drink.

She replied, haltingly, 'I did not think that it would ... I rather thought that you might like to do so, after so long ...' Her voice trailed off as she realised that nothing she said would make any difference for the better.

Wynleigh spared a glance at the assembled party. Aldace was carefully avoiding his host's eye, but Iphigenia noticed that his jaw was clenched, despite the studied indifference with which he was examining his fingernails. Lady Adeline's expression, too, was an achievement - she contrived to appear as unconcerned as if she had merely heard that the meat was over cooked. Kit looked faintly horrified, and made no attempt to conceal it, and it was clear to Wynleigh's shrewd eye that Iphigenia was taking careful note of it all.

His lordship cleared his throat, adjusted his neck cloth, and with chubby fingers smoothed his coat over his paunch. 'How very kind of you, Sophia,' he managed to say with but the remotest tinge of annoyance. 'However, I could never bear to see you taking second place to another woman at your own table. I am sure that Adeline must agree with me,' at which the lady lowered her head ever so slightly, keeping her expression carefully neitral. 'You see, my dear? We are all in agreement then.' He offered his wife his arm, with a forced smile. When she quaveringly took it, he patted it, and proceeded in to dinner.

Chapter 2 (no.1)

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Iphigenia's convictions about the degree of comfort to be expected at Wynleigh were not easily to be overborne. She had suffered many slights and veiled insults whilst on the 'Marriage Mart' in London, but she had never felt so acutely uncomfortable before as she did during the course of that first evening at the home of her ancestors.

As she descended the gleaming white staircase after being dressed for dinner by Sukey, Iphigenia was almost in a mood of contentment. She felt greatly refreshed by changing out of her travelling habit, and after she had lain down upon the spacious and comfortable bed, looking out at the park for half an hour, had washed and had her hair tidied, she felt so much more the thing that she was able to resolve to think no further of what had passed between Sukey and Lord Wynleigh outside her door. After all, if she interested herself in the welfare of every servant, she would have no time for anything else; and why could the explanation not be that her uncle had justifiably and briefly reprimanded Sukey for some earlier trespass? Iphigenia saw all the force of her own argument, but was unconvinced.

However, despite not considering herself to be a vain creature, Iphigenia found that it was very difficult to be in a bad mood when she was dressed beautifully and in good health. She was very well satisfied with how well she looked in a light blue evening gown of sprigged muslin, with the slightest of demi-trains, and a string of pearls around her neck. Sukey, too, had beem full of praise - although, given the nature of Sukey's previous employment, Iphigenia was not sure how much emphasis to place on these effusions. At any rate, I look more breathtaking than a dressed leg of mutton! Cheerful reflections, indeed.

She was being most careful of her footing as she descended the final few steps of the great polished staircase, as she did not wish to suffer the pain and indignity of a fall. At least it could not make the slightest difference to any favourable impression that I might have made here. Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, Commander Aldace walked past.

It would have been excessively rude of him not to have stopped to make his bow, although it was plain from the fleeting look of resignation that crossed his face that he would much have preferred to continue alone. However, good manners overcame inclination, and the Commander made his bow, sweeping off his chapeau-bras, and taking Miss Ffouldes' hand as she set foot on the cool tiles of the hall floor. The Commander was also in good looks, attired as he was in his dress uniform. Not all men were able to wear knee breeches becomingly, but Aldace was one of them, Iphigenia observed.

With a look of either abstraction or boredom, The Commander asked, 'Are you now on your way to the dining room, Miss Ffouldes?"

Amused as much as she was piqued by seeming so tiresome to Aldace, she replied brightly, 'Why yes, I am.'

In the same resigned tone, he further inquired, 'Will you allow me the honour, then, of conducting you the remainder of the way?'

She was unsure what answer to make. Would it be more painful for him to have to continue being pleasant to me all the way to the drawing room, or for him to be snubbed and sent about his business? A mischievous smile curled her lips. Well, there can be no comparison, can there? Besides, I don't know the way.

'Thank you so much, Commander Aldace. I confess that after traveling so far I am greatly fatigued, and will be glad of your support.' She slowed her pace, and deliberately added some weight to her arm.

Aldace merely contented himself with a smile that extended no further than the corners of his mouth. His eyes showed no amusement at all.

Iphigenia's did - they positively glittered. As she dawdled, she wondered which topic of conversation would be the dullest to introduce. 'You will be interested to note, Commander, that the state of the roads as we traveled was truly excellent.'

'Indeed, ma'am?' he answered woodenly.

'Oh yes,' she enthused. 'Quite dry, which is a remarkable circumstance at this time of year, and yet not so dry as to become uncomfortably dusty. I can think of nothing worse than a dusty road, sir, can you?'

'I regret to inform you that I can,' he replied. Is the gallant Commander indulging in irony?

'Oh?' she asked, inviting elaboration.

'On the sea, Miss Ffouldes, we find ourselves so accustomed to being wet that the experience of being coated in dust would, at least, have that of novelty,' he said, brusquely.

They travelled in silence for a moment down the white and spotless passageway whose sparseness was relieved only by the occasional landscape painting hanging in it. The pause in conversation was just long enough to put Aldace at his ease, thinking that Iphigenia had given up. She had not.

'I had forgotten that in your naval career the weather assumes an importance greater even than that it does for those of us who use the public highways. How fortunate that I hit upon a topic so well designed to please you,' she congratulated herself, with neither sincerity nor shame.

Blandly, he replied, 'I can assure you, ma'am, that I am quite able to converse on the topic of the weather. If it would amuse you, or edify you, I can detail even the tiniest distinctions between wind speeds and directions, discuss the implications of various weather systems for navigational purposes, and, without references to charts, describe the intriguing differences in tidal patterns in almost any port in Europe, the Indies, or as far as the Cape.' He paused, smiling at Iphigenia without warmth.

So. You are increasing the price of play, are you? Very well.

'But I leave it to yourself to determine how interesting you would find such conversation,' he added.

It appears that I must find a topic even less engaging ... now there's a thought. What could be more obnoxious than to think that I had set my cap at him? Odious as he finds me.

Iphigenia stared adoringly at him, and replied breathlessly, 'Oh sir! You are truly a man of information and sense - and your condescension in deferring to my own humble wishes quite, quite overwhelms me!' She hastily flipped open her fan, hanging from her wrist beside her reticule, waving it with vigour in an effort to cool her pretended ardour.

Aldace was stunned, and stared directly ahead, refusing to make further comment. Fortunately for him they had reached the drawing room where the family assembled before dinner. Iphigenia was quite delighted with her success at needling Aldace. She had been worried for a few moments, but felt that she was ultimately entitled to claim a victory.

Unhanding Iphigenia and bowing, Aldace gestured her to the doorway. 'We have arrived, Miss Ffouldes,' he said.

Iphigenia felt obliged to show mercy to a vanquished foe. She smiled most winsomely and said, 'Thank you for your escort,' before entering the room.

Her self-satisfaction did not last long. The rest of the party was assembled there, her mother decked out in a sober gown of grey satin, and darkly flashing with imitation jet jewels around her throat, on her ears and in the grey and white turban she wore. 'Ah, Iphigenia, there you are! Come and meet your ...' She stopped as she saw Aldace enter the room immediately behind her daughter. Lady Adeline smiled, showing a predator's excessive amount of tooth, and said in what she took to be a subtle tone, 'How pleasant to see Young People amusing each other so well. I am sorry to deprive you of my daughter's company, Commander Aldace, but I must present her to her aunt, Lady Wynleigh.'

Aldace's face was almost unreadable. He bowed curtly, and stalked over to the pianoforte to peruse the music sheets in solitude.

Iphigenia felt that the lustre of her victory was tarnishing, however she determined to banish any feelings of resentment towards her parent for spoiling what had previously been a shining moment in her life. After all, in what way am I surprised by her behaviour? Summoning a smile from the nether recesses of her soul, she moved across the room to where her mother had indicated her aunt was to be found.

A smile was a seldom-used weapon in Lady Adeline's repertoire; the one she attempted then had all the sincerity and warmth of a snarling tiger, which greatly unnerved Iphigenia: to see her without an insulating layer of duplicity was the same as seeing her naked.

Lady Adeline began, in her most affable tone, 'My dear sister, Lady Wynleigh, here is my only daughter, Miss Iphigenia Ffouldes,' And as Iphigenia curtsied politely, she continued, 'How charming it is to see you, my dear Iphigenia, making your bow to the wife of my dearest brother, in this, our ancestral home! How I have longed to make my cherished offspring known to all who are fotunate enough to make their lives in these, the very Halls of my Fondest Recollections!' Iphigenia was torn between revulsion at the melodrama, and a desire to know from whence these affecting utterances sprung.

Her parent, evidently well pleased by her own performance, patted the limp hand of Lady Wynleigh and said archly, 'I shall entrust Iphigenia to your care, my dear. An aunt's protection and affections can be second only to a mother's, so you see I have no qualms to afflict me in my absence! Lady Adeline unfurled her fan and moved away to do what she might to bring Kit, who was happily seated by fire reading a newspaper, more to the notice of his uncle who was equally contentedly stuffing a pipe with tobacco in the chair opposite him.

Iphigenia reflected that, although her mother might not be afflicted by qualms, she herself was. Lady Wynleigh, no doubt, wished every Ffouldes in the county at the bottom of the nearest convenient well; and, far from regarding Iphigenia as a dear niece, must consider her a leech, or some worse blood-sucking creature. And now to make myself agreeable!

She looked Lady Wynleigh over carefully, for the first time. She was a woman of short stature, greying light brown hair, and equine features. Her gown was of the finest satin brocade, gold designs intertwined with burgundy ones on her overdress and her very large puffed sleeves. Two little slippers of gold peeped out from beneath the under-dress of the same colour. They matched a solitary and forlorn feather that rose out of a garnet-encrusted hairpin, rather like a flag on a ship that was ready to surrender. It was clinging precariously to the thin strands of her carefully dressed hair. Although no fault could be found with the ensemble itself, somehow when one included Lady Wynleigh herself, the whole managed to look incongruous. Iphigenia noticed how Lady Wynleigh's shoulders sloped unbecomingly, and how the gown appeared somehow too large for her, even though it proclaimed itself as having been carefully tailored, and how she made one think inexorably of a miserable child having been caught dressing up in her mother's good clothes. Lady Wynleigh was obviously agitated. Her brow was furrowed and she waved her fan fitfully, her reflexes bringing it up to hide the distress on her face, her upbringing forcing her to lower it again.

Chapter One (4) End of chapter.

'Enter,' sounded Lady Adeline's voice at its most urbane.

Around the edge of the door peeped a very pretty face. It possessed a pair of doe-like brown eyes; a small, full-lipped mouth; and was framed by a veritable cluster of corkscrew curls of burnished gold.

Perceiving the small, white cap of a servant was tied atop these, Lady Adeline felt free to assert herself. 'Come in at once, if you have something to say. There is no need for any of this lurking.' She infused the fault with all the gravity of a capital offence.

Blushing, and with downcast eyes, the girl made her way hesitantly into the room. She was very tiny, and this, combined with her timidity, made her seem much younger than she could possibly be.

Iphigenia instantly felt sorry for her, knowing that she was to be a pigeon for Lady Adeline's plucking. As she often did, she glanced at her brother in the expectation of wordless understanding. This time, Kit's eyes did not meet his sister's. However, she could tell that he was aware of the girl's beauty; he wore an expression of awed admiration and the entirety of his attention was fixed on the girl.

Lady Adeline, however, seemed to be completely impervious to the girl's charm. 'Well? And what have you to say for yourself?' she demanded imperiously.

Bobbing a curtsey, the girl replied softly with a countrified accent, 'If you please, ma'am, I'm here for Miss Ffouldes.'

One of Lady Adeline's eyebrows went up, and the interrogation continued. 'And what do you want of her?'

'Only to show you to your room, Miss,' she replied, somewhat nervously.

Making a show of her feelings of affront, Lady Adeline looked around at her offspring for support. Not finding any, she continued implacably, 'Do you take me for my daughter! If only I could believe such obvious flattery!' She emitted a rather forced-sounding laugh, and turned to her son, to encourage him to share her amusement. He, however, was not amused, and found that his feet were worthy of attention.

Iphigenia took advantage of this lull to go over to the poor girl, who seemed almost on the verge of tears, and she smiled kindly. Softly she introduced herself, 'I think that I am the person you were looking for. And are you indeed to show me to my room? I confess that I am exhausted - would you be so kind as to direct me immediately?' Iphigenia gestured the way to the door.

The girl gave a rather quavery smile, bobbed another curtsey and preceeded Iphigenia out of the room. Miss Ffouldes met her brother's eye just as she vanished from the room - she winked saucily, and he smiled approval at her swift intervention.

As she pulled the book room door shut with a soft click, Iphigenia gave the girl another encouraging smile. 'There, now,' she said. 'My father is fond of the advice get over rough ground as lightly as you can, and I think that we can flatter ourselves that we have done just that.'

The girl managed to regain some composure, and returned Iphigenia's smile. 'Follow me, if you please, Miss,' she said as they began their walk back to the hall.

In much the same way that everyone likes a lamb, a rabbit or a kitten, Iphigenia found that she really liked this girl. She had spent most of her own life in the country, brought up among other local people who were lacking what was called sophistication or town polish. Euphemisms, in Iphigenia's opinion, for conceit and subterfuge. The people that Iphigenia knew were undeniably unrefined, but there was an honesty and an integrity in them that compensated for awkward manners. She felt that she had known this girl her whole life, because she had known people like her for that length of time.

'Can I ask your name?' Iphigenia inquired as they walked.

With another shy smile and ducking her golden curls again, the girl answered, 'Sukey Pyle, miss.'

'Well, Sukey Pyle,' Iphigenia began jokingly, 'you needn't fear that I am going to play the great lady and make every attempt to remind you of your place. That's my mother's job.'

Sukey stifled a little laugh, and glanced guiltily at Iphigenia, unsure of her.

Iphigenia was reassuring. 'No, no - you might as well laugh if that's what you feel like doing at the moment. After all, I shall probably have to ask you to do all sorts of things you might dislike, if you are to be my abigail while I remain at Wynleigh. So enjoy yourself now, by all means! Are you to be my abigail?'

Shyly, Sukey answered, 'I think so, ma'am.' She spent a moment considering something, and then said, uncertainly, 'Ive never done any abigailing before, ma'am. Just kitchen work. I hope you won't mind.'

'I am sure I shan't,' Iphigenia replied blithely. Just remember when you are stuffing me into my corset that I do not need to be coated in breadcrumbs or have an apple shoved in my mouth!'

It was a poor joke, but it worked. Sukey laughed, quietly, and Iphigenia hoped that she had found someone to talk to without reservation.

They had come to the great staircase in the hall once again. As they climbed, Iphigenia asked all kinds of questions about how Wynleugh was ordered - did they dress for dinner here, when did they dine, what amusements did Lady Wynleigh enjoy in the drawing room, when did the household retire for the night, were trays brought up to the bedchambers, or was there a breakfast parlour? The two young ladies chatted amiably and with ease as they mounted the staircase and walked for some way down the passageway at its top.

Stopping at a doorway, Sukey said, 'This one's called the Willow Chamber, Miss Iphigenia. This'll be yours for your stay.' She had her hand on the doorknob in readiness to open it when the sound of Lord Wynleigh's voice could be heard quite close behind them.

Iphigenia found it most disconcerting to discover that someone had been right behind her without her knowledge, but his lordship's presence seemed to exert a stronger influence on Sukey. She whipped her hand away from the door, grasping both hands in front of her, wringing them together, her head utterly downcast, bobbing a quick curtsey and keeping her eyes miserably fixed at a point on the floor.

Bluffly, his lordship said, 'What a charming picture you two present together! Dark and Light! But which is which, eh?' he asked, teasingly.

Iphigenia really felt that she had had quite enough of her uncle. She forebore answering and merely bowed graciously.

Laughing at his own wit, Lord Wynleigh gestured the girls to continue. Sukey opened the door and Iphigenia went in. She turned around to await Sukey's entry to the room, but was not quick enough to see what had happened. She heard first Sukey's stifled cry, and then her uncle's laughter again as he continued his progress along the passageway. Sukey entered the room cowed and timid once more and closed the door firmly behind her.

Iphigenia blinked in puzzlement, and began to ask, 'Sukey, what on earth has just ...'

Sukey was shaking her head unhappily. She said softly, 'Let me help you untie your laces, Miss Iphigenia, and you have a lie down while I unpack your trunk. You'll have to tell me what it is that you want to wear to dinner, and I'll get the creases out and help you dress.'

Without a word, Iphigenia sat down on the bed, and Sukey busied herself with the trunk that had been carried up to the room already.

She had hardly been at Wynleigh an hour, and already had decided that it was much worse than London - quite the last place in the world that she could ever feel comfortable.

END OF CH 1. CH 2 TO FOLLOW SOON!

Chapter One (3)

Waving a hand at Aldace, Wynleigh remarked teasingly, 'I shall say no more on that head, so I assure you!' Aldace forbore to reply. To his other guests, his lordship gestured to the seats, 'Sit yourselves down. Find a cosy spot while Waulmsley brings us a bite or two. You're all exhausted after a journey here, I'll be bound, and I'm all eagerness to hear what it is that brings you. Not sad news, I hope, Adeline, as regards your life's partner?' he asked banteringly and insincerely.

'No, indeed, John. All was well with Colonel Ffouldes when last we had the privilege of communication from him,' Lady Adeline replied, shortly. So prim was her reply, in fact, that even had Iphigenia not already known her mother's opinion of news from her father, it would have been clear. Iphigenia hoped that Lady Adeline would not lay open their family business any further. Especially not in front of an uncle they barely knew. And extra-specially not in front of Aldace.

Adjusting herself more comfortably on her chaise lounge, her ladyship addressed herself to the Commander. 'Perhaps you are unaware, sir, that my husband has been stationed in India, and his business there has kept him from these shores for some time.'

Aldace had resumed his place near the fire and appeared nonplussed by the information. He replied, 'Is that so, ma'am?'

Blithely, Lady Adeline assured him, 'Indeed yes. It is always hardest on the families of those whose duties are of king rather than home.'

Aldace contented himself with a curt bow, which made Lord Wynleigh burst out laughing. 'Adeline, it has been so long that I had all but forgotten what a pea-goose you are! Aldace's just as guilty as most of us when it comes to choosing between duty and inclination!' He continued with a further chuckle or two.

Iphigenia noticed that Aldace's attention was seemingly entirely focused on the artifacts displayed on the mantlepiece. She was struck by his tactiturnity in not being able to share a pleasantry that had obviously been intended to include him. The man appeared to be almost entirely lacking in social graces.

Airily waving a hand, Lay Adeline conceded, 'Ah yes, you are both Naval men. I had forgotten,' and then, with raillery, 'But as to our business here - call me a pea-goose if you will, my dear John, but I am not the pea-goose who has forgotten that he was to receive houseguests!'

Laughter drained from Lord Wynleigh's face. Recollecting himself, he smiled, and inquired, 'Should I infer then, Adeline, that I should have a bed made up for you?'

With all the appearance of surprise, Lady Adeline rejoined, 'Has not Lady Wynleigh already done so?'

Realising that his sister was serious, he began making excuses, 'Well, of course she might have - isn't here, as a matter of fact - must have forgotten to mention it to me. I shall just go and consult with our housekeeper, perhaps.'

Wynleigh rose to go, with some audible creaking from his corsetry; but before he could exit the room, Waulmsley entered it with a tray bearing a selection of cold meats, cakes, fruit and some Madeira wine.

'Ah yes,' said Wynleigh, 'Our refreshments! Do help yourselves, everyone please!'

Kit eagerly grabbed a cake, and the others served themselves such items as took their fancy with rather more decorum.

While his guests were occupied, and before Waulmsley withdrew, Wynleigh took him aside and asked in what he assumed was a discreet tone, 'Lady Adeline is staying for the night. Doubtless Lady Wynleigh, before she left ...' he raised his eyebrows, prompting the butler to answer that all was under control.

Waulmsley's sullen face and reluctance to reply answered his master's question.

Rubbing his chin a little, Wynleigh went on, 'A lot on her mind, sort of thing one easily forgets, of course. Desire Mrs Pengreay to make up the Park Chamber for Lady Adeline.'

Silently bowing, Waulmsley withdrew. Wynleigh was fully sensible of his butler's disapproval, but as the conduct of this indispensable member of the household was beyond reproach, his lordship had to swallow his annoyance and continue the civilities with his guests.

'You will be pleased to hear, Adeline, that the Park Chamber is being readied for you for this evening,' Wynleigh announced jovially, patting his paunch with satisfaction. 'It is one of the rooms in the newer section of the house. Most comfortable.'

Looking up from a very small glass of Madeira, his sister caught him off guard again. 'And for the rest of my stay?' she asked, fixing him with a clear, unblinking gaze.

Smiling so hard that it seemed as if his jaw might break, Wynleigh improvised, 'For the rest of your stay, I have every confidence that my dearest Sophia will want to confer with you herself this evening to discover precisely what will suit you.'

Through a mouth slightly loaded with cake, Kit observed to his uncle, 'You know, these are really good.' He helped himself to another.

Looking much struck by an unpleasant suspicion, Wynleigh asked his sister, 'Had you any preferences for where your - most interesting! - offspring are to stay?'

Taking another small sip of her wine, Lady Adeline replied easily, 'No. Wherever it will least discommode you, my dear brother. We should be sorry to put you to any trouble.'

Wynleigh's expression was less a smile and more a grimace. However he spoke graciously, 'Aldace will be happy to entertain you for a few moments. excuse me while I discover who will show you to your rooms. You will all want a chance to recover from your journey before we dine.' He let himself out of the room without a backward glance.

Aldace had all the appearance of a man who was anything but happy at being requested to be civil to his host's other visitors. With an expression of disbelieving repugnance he turned again to his study of the mantlepiece.

Iphigenia would ordinarily have ignored such behaviour, and have satisfied herself with conversation with her brother. However, she was by now almost incensed at the seemingly ceaseless flow of snubs from Aldace. She decided it would be her pleasure to inflict the full measure of her distasteful presence on him.

Smiling brightly, she enquired, 'Commander Aldace, have you known my uncle long?'

He brought his head upright quickly, and glanced at her over his shoulder.

Iphigenia knew that, despite being tired, and her clothes being travel worn, she presented quite a pretty picture. She had seen for herself at the last inn at which they had stopped that the sleek coils of her long, brown hair had worn well and were very becomingly spilt over one shoulder; that her Brunswick green travel habit suited her complexion and figure admirably; and as she had been complimented on her looks by admirers she was well aware that the expression of vivacity was one which showed off her even features to advantage.

Aldace seemed oblivious to all of it. He merely replied in a bored tone, 'As he commanded the fleet in the Mediterranean for several years, ma'am, and I have served in it for eleven years myself, you may infer an acquaintance of some length.' He returned to his interrupted study of a porcelain snuffbox of Oriental design.

Iphigenia would not yield so meekly. She tried again, 'Very well, Commander Aldace, i shall make what inferences I can from this information. However, I shall need you to supply me with a little more if I am to be satisfied.'

Resignedly, Aldace turned around to face the room, and leaned against the mantle. 'I would be loathe to deprive you of satisfaction ma'am,' he replied, the gallantry spoilt somewhat by the sarcasm of his tone. 'What do you require of me?'

Playfully, she began, 'You see, sir, I know very little of the customs binding you Naval men. Is it in his capacity as a retired Admiral of the Fleet that my uncle is now entertaining you?'

'I would not like to hazard any remarks about Lord Wynleigh's business, Ma'am,' he replied depressingly.

'Quite right,' agreed Lady Adeline, sectioning an orange.

Laughing a little, Iphigenia pressed on, 'I am sure I am not trying to be impertinent, sir! Only to make conversation,' she added, pointedly.

Taking her meaning, Aldace looked up. Their eyes met.

Iphigenia had hoped that Aldace would be shamed into doing all that was proper for their entertainment, but she forgot all her machinations in noticing how unexpectedly green his eyes were. Almost a blue. Rather like the sea itself - how appropriate.

She recollected herself, blinked and continued, 'Perhaps you would prefer to introduce a new topic for discussion?'

Aldace was uncomfortable. He shifted the sbuffbox between his hands as he attempted to collect his thoughts, 'I would not wish ... I am ...' Abruptly he placed the snuff box back on the mantle, schooled his features, and said calmly, 'I pray you will all excuse me.' He made a slight bow, and left the room even before Kit could struggle to his feet, still chewing, and attempting to catch the crumbs that fell off his lap.

Calmly contemplating a piece of her orange, Lady Adeline observed impeturbably, 'What an awkward young man.'

Blushing hotly, Iphigenia tried to capture some of her mother's air of serenity. 'Yes indeed,' she agreed. 'He certainly lacks something in his address.'

'He does. However, it was a shame that you chased him away, Iphigenia. I dare sau he is a protege of my brother's and has very good prospects,' replied Lady Adeline blandly.

Too outraged for speech, Iphigenia stood up and took a very energetic turn about the room. A little rap at the door sounded before she had fully regained her equilibrium, and she was grateful to whoever it was for obviating the necessity to continue so undesirable a conversation.

TO BE CONTINUED ... AND CHAPTER 1 TO BE CONCLUDED ... SOON.

Ch 1 cont. - Aldace at last

As he approached, Lady Adeline stood up, and her children followed her example. The gentleman spread his arms, widened his smile to show worn, yellowed teeth and said with great affability, 'My very dear Adeline! So you have come home to us at last, have you?' He embraced his sister as he spoke.

The lady was very touched at being welcomed where she had feared repulsion, and managed to utter chokingly, 'Oh John - how good you are,' before being obliged to search her reticule for her handkerchief.

Giving his sister an awkward little pat on her shoulder, he comforted her with a brusque, 'Well, well now,' and turned to face the younger members of the party. He sized Kit up at a glance and then turned his attention to Iphigenia, who curtsied modestly under the scrutiny. His teeth reappeared, and with bluff good-humour requested the pleasure of being presented to his sister's friends.

Handkerchief away, she replied with pride, 'These are my two youngest children, John. Mr Christopher Ffouldes and Miss Iphigenia Ffouldes. My eldest, Augden, is serving on the Continent in the Army of Occupation.'

Lord Wynleigh seemed interested at the information. 'Another military man in the family, eh? Although the navy will always have my preference, I think,' he added, in the nature of a joke, by which neither Kit nor Iphigenia were amused, but at which they found themselves politely grinning nonetheless.

His lordship extended a hand for Kit to shake, saying, 'A Ffouldes by name perhaps, but an Augden by countenance, sir! Pleased to meet you.' Kit mumbled something polite in return, and their uncle extended his hand to Iphigenia.

She was expecting a shake, but with an air of both playfulness and condescension, his lordship gave the hand a kiss in the manner that had been fashionable in his youth, and he made a bow as deep as his years and his groaning corsetry would allow.

Retaining her hand, he said, quizzingly, 'Ah but you are surely more a Helen to launch a thousand ships than an Iphigenia to be dedicated to virginity and sacrifice, my dear.'

Pleased with this effort, he stood looking at his niece, who briefly repeated her curtsy, and he smiled again, before making a great show of releasing Iphigenia's hand. 'You have a very fine daughter, there, Adeline. Very fine children,' he amended.

Lady Adeline was full of appreciation for this compliment. His lordship waved off her gratitude in what seemed to Kit a most proper way, and offered his arm to his sister. 'I was just entertaining a young friend of mine in my book room. I shall introduce him to you, and you will take refreshments.'

He began to lead the way back down the corridor from which he had originated, and the two younger members of the party followed. As Lord Wynleigh's attention was given in inconsequential chatter with Lady Adeline, Iphigenia and Kit were able to look around as they passed, and whisper between themselves.

With a low whistle of appreciation, Kit remarked, 'Never saw so many columns and pilasters and rubbish like that anywhere other than in illustrations in a Latin text from my school days! Someone must have been willing to drop the devil of a lot of blunt to bring this place up to scratch.'

Iphigenia smiled out of one corner of her mouth. 'Yes, I imagine they must have, but don't let Mama hear you using such vulgar expressions, whatever else you do!' As her brother rolled his eyes, she added with thought, 'I have no recollection of Mama describing Wynleigh as being decorated in the Classical style. I had somehow formed the impression that it was more a Jacobean place.' This last was almost a question.

Kit turned the matter over in his mind for a moment. 'You know, you're right. I think,' he added, uncertainly.

Iphigenia prompted him, 'Yes, yes I am, because don't you remember that story she was so fond of telling about that silly priests' hole in the dining room that her father had decided to use as his secret wine cellar because he suspected the butler of being secretly fond of imbibing?'

Recollection dawned. 'Oh yes, I do remember that! I also remember thinking that if that was what passed for a joke at Wynleigh then I was deucedly well pleased not to be expected to go there for my entertainment.' He thought a hideous thought. 'You don't suppose that with our grandfather dead the standards of fun here might have improved?'

Smiling and giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, Iphigenia replied consolingly, 'Considering all of that rot about me being "a Helen", I would advise you against raising your hopes, Kit.' He shook his head in thoughtful disbelief at what he envisioned befalling him. Iphigenia continued, 'Let's look on the bright side. If renovations have been made here at Wynleigh recently, perhaps our uncle has extended himself as far as his assets will allow, and mama will see little point in remaining long where there is nothing for her to gain.'

Shrewdly Kit rejoined, 'Or, more likely, our uncle has only spent a small part of his total fortune and our mother will not be happy until he has transferred a substantial part of the remainder into her keeping.'

Iphigenia was much struck by this perspective. However, her notions of proper sisterly guidance prompted her to say, 'Perhaps. But if you keep on talking in that vein, you will have everyone persuaded that our mother is some kind of Card Sharp.'

They had reached a doorway into which their uncle went, gesturing the rest of them to follow. As they entered the door, Kit hissed a last aside, 'Not a card one, I grant you. But our mother certainly ain't a flat!'

This obliged Iphigenia to exert a great deal of effort to appropriately school her features upon entry of the book room.

She glanced around and noticed that it was a snug little apartment, the walls lined with leather-bound volumes in their dustless shelves, some of the tomes beginning to crack and fray with age. The crimson-draped windows looked out over the park, and despite the sunlight streaming in, a branch of candles was lit on a small side table near a chaise-lounge and some easy chairs. She also noted that the table supported a decanter of wine that was all but empty and two glasses. Iphigenia congratulated herself on having taken her uncle's measure upon meeting him.

A small fire was alight in the grate and leaning one arm on the marble mantle and warming his feet one by one in their top boots was a tall gentleman, slender and broad shouldered, his back to the door. The new arrivals were afforded only a view of his thick, dark hair, pulled back and secured with a modest black lace, and of the good cut of his well-fitting dark blue coat.

In his loudly jovial tone, Lord Wynleigh threw out a greeting, 'Look lively there, Aldace! I want to present you to my youngest sister.' He smiled expectantly at the Ffouldes, as if in the middle of a wonderfully amusing practical joke, waiting for them to share it with him. Unable even to smile, Iphigenia quickly averted her eyes from her uncle and laid them again on the stranger.

He turned around at the sound of his name, momentarily discomposed. For just that instant, Iphigenia saw unhappiness flicker on his face before he irritably pushed his fringe back from his brow, schooled his expression, and stood ready for the introductions.

Iphigenia was intrigued by what she had perceived in that unguarded moment. She studied the stranger further to determine what else she might discover, and although she noted that he had a pleasing countenance ... was, perhaps, even good-looking with his chiseled cheekbones and strong jawline ... and was controlled almost to the point of reserve, she was rewarded with no further insights.

Lord Wynleigh strode forward with exuberance. 'Adeline, my dear, may I present to you Commander Anthony Aldace of his Majesty's Ship Wind Lass? I find his company at present invaluable to me.'

Iphigenia was not certain, but it seemed to her that Aldace's features acquired an even stonier aspect at these words.

Her uncle continued, 'And Aldace, this is my long-estranged sister, Lady Adeline, er, Ffouldes. Yes.'

Lady Adeline extended a hand politely and curtsied as the commander took it and made his curt bow, murmuring, 'Servant, ma'am,' before quickly releasing her.

Lord Wynleigh next gestured to Kit, who stood with his hands be4hind his back. 'And over here we have my, why my nephew, so we do!' He laughed heartily at the thought of how amusing it was to discover new relations. 'That's right, that's right,' he encouraged as they shook hands, 'We approve of easy ways here! Christopher Ffouldes, there, Aldace, of course,' he added, as an afterthought.

Directing the Commander towards Iphigenia, he said with an air of relish, 'And this is Miss Iphigenia Ffouldes,' Montroy's face was as unreadable as a statue's, which disinclined Iphigenia to display any friendlier aspect herself. She found this fact mildly irritating. They shook hands firmly and without eye contact.

Wynleigh added in a stage-whisper, 'No doubt Miss ffouldes here will meet with your approval, eh Aldace?' He barely suppressed a chuckle.

Aldace replied blightingly, 'No doubt, sir,' in a tone calculated to allow much room for doubt.

Although Iphigenia was no more desirous of being approved by Aldace than she would any other new acquaintance, she felt a certain amount of pique at being snubbed by him. She found that, without thinking, she had drawn herself up a little taller. Looking at Aldace, standing there with all his discipline and haughteur, she began to wonder how she could earlier have made the mistake of thinking his looks anything other than displeasing.

Chapter One - Arrival at Wynleigh

The facade of the building was dazzlingly white, so much so that the reflected sunlight made it painful for Iphigenia to scrutinise Wynleigh House. She moved her parasol a little so that her eyes were shaded, and by squinting was able to make out large slabs of brilliant white masonry; long, fluted columns that rose ever upwards like fantastic trees made of sugar paste; and vast expanses of windows whose transparency was lost in mirroring the grandeur of the park in which the house sat.

Lady Adeline Ffouldes was still enraptured as they stood upon the snowy gravel drive. She gestured to a nearby topiary shrub in a classically styled pot. 'Marvellous! How neat and well-groomed! There is such satisfaction in seeing the coarser aspects of nature tamed into propriety. And nowhere will you see a finer example of it than at Wynleigh.' She turned to her daughter, 'Unlike at Elford where everything is allowed to grow wherever it likes,' she waved an irascible hand, dismissing the rustic attractions of the small estate that her children had grown up on. 'There is certainly nothing ...' she searched for the right word, savouring it when at last it came to her, '... cultivated to be found there.'

Iphigenia forebore to voice her own observations on the matter. What her mother considered as cultivation, she considered as a species of deceit. Everything was beautiful in its own way. Would it not be simpler to allow for variety in the forms of beauty? However, this was clearly not a view to which her mother was sympathetic, and all she could expect to receive for expounding this sentiment would be her mother's anger and to be, once again, reminded that she was a strange and vexatious child.

Kit had paid off the postillion and had overseen the unloading of the baggage. He had come up to his mother and sister by this time, and stood for a moment at the foot of the great snowy staircase that left to the entry doors. A moment was all it took for him to consider the imposing edifice before him and to remark to his parent, 'Well, perhaps not ma'am. What ought to be found here is someone to let us in. Shall we ring the bell?'

Lady Adeline was diverted from her admiration of her ancestral home by the horror that she felt at such an unbecoming suggestion. What would the Wynleigh party think of the Ffouldes if she allowed Christopher to do such a thing? It would make it seem as though they were too poor to bring any servants with them.

Wryly, the young gentleman observed, 'In that case, they would form a pretty accurate picture of us, then, because we are.'

Affronted, Lady Adeline drew herself up to her full height and frostily announced, 'We have Sally,' imbuing this modest and ageing lady's maid with sufficient grandeur to be the equivalent of a whole wing of servants.

Glancing around to where Sally stood awkwardly with the trunks and bandboxes, which she had accompanied in the second post-chaise, Kit concurred, 'So we do. And - not that I desire to appear to be a nitpicker, I hope - but from what I remember of all that schoolroom rot about grammar, in order to qualify as having servantS we need at least one more Sally.'

Lady Adeline could hardly speak for indignation.

While she was composing herself for speech, her son blithely continued, fanning himself with the beaver hat he held in his hand, 'And while one more Sally would do to serve Fij, that would still leave me high and dry. I'll be dashed if I'll have a female to shave me or shine my boots. Or to help me in and out of my coat, for that matter,' he added, much struck by the vision of being obliged to do just that. Then, further horror presented itself to his imagination, 'And what about my bath?'

Kit's brow wrinkled as he continued, 'I'm not at all sure how you persuaded me to come all the way down here without Dawlish. How the devil am I supposed to shift for myself? Why did nobody think of that when we were all adding up the pennies and paring the cheese, eh?'

Quietly, Iphigenia remarked, 'I seem to recollect Mama's assurance that our uncle would be pleased to spare us any and every expense that he could, and that we might rely on his being able to supply us with whatever kind of servants we might require.'

In an undertone to his sister, Kit replied, 'Yes, well! Very nice of her to make such assurances on his behalf. Did our aunt make this offer when she invited us?' He glanced at the house. 'Bet they'll use blacking on my boots and not champagne', he determined, glumly. Kit sighed, resigned to this probably fate, and smacked the curled brim of his hat against his hand.

Lady Adeline waved a hand for silence from her children, and for Sally to attend her.

With a brief glance at her mother, Iphigenia caught her brother's eye and shook her head in answer to his earlier question.

He rolled his eyes and, thrusting his hands in his pockets, began to scuff at the gravel. 'We're in it for sure,' he mumbled, in annoyance.

Poor, countrified Sally was required to make her way up the palatial staircase and to bravely ring the bell at the imposing entrance. She quailed when confronted by Waulmsley, the haughty butler of Wynleigh; but by considering this task just as much her duty as emptying her ladyship's pot each morning, and that Providence sent these trials to prepare us for the hereafter, and that she didn't have to enjoy it, only to obey, and who was she to question her betters, when all was said and done, she retained her courage.

Unfortunately for her, credit for this heroism was not to come Sally's way either from her employer or from Waulmsley. Being quite used to depressing the pretensions of even the most persistent and charming persons desirous of intruding on the Augen family at Wynleigh, it became apparent that admittance was not going to be granted.

Waulmsley had almost succeeded in closing the door in Sally's protesting face when Lady Adeline came striding up the stairs most purposefully. With her silk shawl and the feathers in her bonnet streaming out behind her, and brandishing her furled parasol most alarmingly, the erstwhile daughter of the house exclaimed, 'Now see here my good man! I am unaccustomed to such a reception. Be so good as to alert my sister-in-law, Lady Wynleigh, to our arrival. You will find that she is expecting us.' Lady Adeline concluded, her tone implying her expectation of instant compliance with her orders.

However, her ladyship had under-estimated Waulmsley. 'Lady Wynleigh has not indicated to me that she expects any visitors, ma'am. A fact to which her absence from home testifies.' He began to close the door.

Stubbornly, Lady Adeline continued, 'Nevertheless, we have been invited. I desire you to present my compliments, then, to Lord Wynleigh.'

With very cool politeness, Waulmsley replied, 'His lordship is currently busy.'

Visibly on the verge of losing her temper, Lady Adeline made her final attempt. 'I am his sister. I have no doubt that your master will spare me a few moments of his time.' She fixed Waulmsley with a determined and dire stare.

In the face of what promised to be a Scene of exactly the proportions that any genteel servant in his position wished to avoid, Waulmsley bowed - or, more accurately, inclined his head and shoulders to the smallest degree that civility would allow - desired Madam to wait in the Hall, and withdrew with all the dignity and disapproval that he could muster to apprise his lordship of the arrival of Visitors. By which, Lady Adeline understood that Waulmsley disapproved of her, and disbelieved her story of invitation.

It was fortunate that this knowledge deprived Lady Adeline of her powers of speech, or doubtless she would have attempted to disabuse the butler of his extremely unflattering notions regarding her consequence. As it was, she limited herself to an outraged sniff, and she and her entourage spent a few moments in the chill quiet of the entrance hall, admiring the landscapes and marble busts that decorated the plastered walls, as they divested themselves of hats, gloves, pelisses and overcoats.

At length, just as Kit was beginning to notice how uncomfortable was the bench he had chosen to sit on, and Iphigenia was beginning to wonder what drove her Augden antecedents to create everything out of any material as unforgiving as stone, the sound of footsteps approaching commanded the attention of all those waiting.

Around a corner, striding at a vigorous pace came a portly gentleman of late middle years, smiling heartily and rubbing his sausage-like hands together in an appreciative way. He was dressed in a cream-coloured waistcoat that was rather too tight for him, its gold buttons straining and its embroidered fruit trees distorted grotesquely across his paunch. His neckcloth was unfashionably plain, his collar-points almost embarrassingly modest and unstarched beneath the plump roll of his jowls. He was wearing blue knee-breeches, plain white stockings, and simple black shoes. Despite these Spartan touches, his over all impression was one of indulgence. The quaint cream-coloured wig that he wore sported several rolls of curls all over, and the pigtail at the back was tied with a gold lace. His complexion - very hectic in colour and very weathered in texture - suggested someone who enjoyed spending a great deal of time out of doors but who, when indoors, enjoyed spending their time seated by a roaring fire with a bottle or two of something red.

WHO IS THIS GENTLEMAN? FIND OUT SOON.

London, during 'the Season' Continued

Patiently, his sister explained, 'Those enticements are likely to induce a man to make me offers of a certain kind, but not an offer of marriage. And that is what we need if we are to receive both financial aid and respectability as a family. The kind of man we are hoping to find is looking for certain qualities in a wife: birth, fortune and beauty,' she said, ticking off each of the three requirements with her fingers.

Kit gave up on his tie – the Trone de Amor was beyond repair, and would have to await his valet's resourceful touch. However, Mr Ffouldes was pragmatic enough to know that the conversation with his sister was of even more moment than was badly creased linen, and returned his attention where it was most needed.

'All that you're lacking is the fortune,' he countered. 'And plenty of men have been willing to overlook that if the lady in question is enticing enough. There are precedents,' Kit insisted.

'Indeed there are,' Iphigenia agreed cheerfully. 'But the reason that these exceptions stand out from the rule is that men of Quality are seldom willing to overlook these niceties.' Her eyes twinkled – she knew that he was beginning to find his position untenable, and while the noble art of fencing was denied ladies, Iphigenia had a devotee's taste for verbal thrust and parry.

'What about the Gunning sisters?' Kit asked, somewhat sullenly. He was, indeed, a little concerned that Iphigenia's case was sound; and so he allowed the distraction of wondering whether he should ring the bell for Dawlish's assistance with his neck-cloth immediately – it put one out of countenance so to be aware that one looked a fright.

Airily waving a hand, Iphigenia blithely dismissed these famed ladies. 'Over a generation ago, and stood out in the popular memory because the circumstance of their marrying so well was so unusual. I ask you, dear heart – how many girls have come to town, hoping to use a pretty face to gain an impressive title, and have gone home again poorer for the experience?' She was struck by a thought: 'Or have not gone home at all,' she alluded, darkly.

'Yes, well. I still don't see why you couldn't make a go of the thing if you put your heart into it,' Kit insisted, petulantly, neatly avoiding all of the logic that his sister had presented. A man shouldn't have to ring for his valet – the fellow ought, somehow, to know when he's wanted. The best ones probably do just that – breeze in as needed without a fuss, restore a chap to his best, and breeze out again. Rotten Iphigenia – if there was more money to go around, it could be used to entice one of these prized servants away from the magnificent employer currently enjoying their services. It's a thing that a female simply could not adequately appreciate.

Blissfully unaware of her brother's resentful tone of thought, Iphigenia attempted to continue her argument with painstaking logic. 'We have already allowed that it is extremely rare for men of rank and fortune to marry only for a pretty face; so let us now move on to the next point. No one will marry me for my fortune because I don't have one.'

Kit shot an expression of distaste at Iphigenia. She smiled back.

'That leaves us our third eventuality,' she continued. 'In that case, it will be expected that my birth will atone for what I lack monetarily.' She waited, barely hiding her amusement, for a response from her brother.

He didn't see her point. 'I don't know how high your notions of good birth extend, Fij, but one of our grandfathers was an Earl. Surely that counts for something. After all, it could only get better if our mother were the daughter of a Duke, or the King.'

Iphigenia wrinkled her mouth ruefully. 'Not quite true. If we were the children of an Earl it could be better. And, of course, if any of our mother's illustrious relations were willing to claim acquaintance with us, it would also be better.' She moved aside the curtain to peer out at the street again, as she remarked a little peevishly, 'What use is an Earl in the family, if he is not willing to acknowledge one?' Iphigenia twitched the curtain back into place and fixed her candid eyes on her brother once again. 'And our father is a nobody,' she pointed out.

Kit bristled at this disloyalty. 'The Ffouldes are an extremely respectable family,' he argued.

Undeterred, Iphigenia replied, 'I shall allow the honour of the ancient name of Ffouldes to be above the common generality. Not a titled family, not a powerful family, but it is a respectable one.' She paused, considering, 'Or was one. Until our father drew it into disrepute. If his elopement with our mother, and the scandal attached to it had not drawn the Ffouldes' respectability into question, then the very public life of dissipation he has led since that time must have done so.'

Kit, sadly, had no reply to make, other than scuffing the edge of a Turkish rug with the toe of his boot.

'Like it or not, Kit: a child is tarred with its father's brush,' Iphigenia smiled grimly.

Kit frowned, and thrust his hands into his pockets once again, causing the tails of his dark coat to flap. 'You make it sound all very difficult!' he complained, petulantly, before glancing at his reflection in the mirror over the mantle, tugging at a fold of his cravat with one finger and frowning.

Torn between laughter and anger, Iphigenia exclaimed, 'It is very difficult! How on earth can I be expected to succeed at this madness?' Her dark eyes sparkled with emotion and a spot of colour tinged her cheeks becomingly.

Kit edged some stray cinders back into the hearth with his toe. 'It's going to get a lot more difficult soon when all the money runs out and we have nowhere to turn to,' he remarked candidly.

Iphigenia contented herself with replying, 'True.' She stared thoughtfully out of the window again, while Kit tried to poke his shirt points back to their former height.

Interrupting these mindless pursuits, Iphigenia soon leaped up from the window seat again, her skirts crushed in a frantic grasp to keep them from entangling her legs in her haste. Kit looked at her quickly for an explanation, and she replied with dire meaning, 'It's the mother!'

Uttering an oath that Iphigenia pretended not to hear or understand, Kit dashed, coat tails flying like ribbons behind him, for a seat furthest from the fire. Iphigenia picked up the volume of verse from where she had abandoned it – Lord Byron's newest literary effort, and something that all the town was agog to discuss – and began leafing through the pages with more rapidity than care. Her brother grabbed up a neatly folded newspaper from an occasional table and opened it, flopping onto the arm chair in the far corner of the room.

The door opened, and with great dignity, as was her custom, Lady Adeline Ffouldes swept into the room. She spared neither of her offspring more than a cursory glance, as the processed over to the winged armchair recently vacated by her youngest son, and sat carefully upon it, as though it was a throne. The lady was dressed as a dowager might, despite the most recent information from her husband in India suggesting that he was very much alive and well – the black crape skirts with many layers of ruffling, and her matron's cap trimmed with so much lace, combined to give the impression of a large bird of prey, on edge, and with feathers ruffled, dangerously on the verge of pouncing. She had a harsh, angular face that many years of bitterness and rancor had done little to soften.

She fixed her daughter wit a stern eye, to the relief of her son, and announced in ringing and depressing tones, 'You are most fortunate, Iphigenia.'

Feeling quite the opposite, and closing her book again, her daughter replied, 'Indeed?'

Lady Adeline pursed her lips, and continued with withering chill, 'Indeed. I have made a most valuable acquaintance today.' Seeing that she had the attention of both her offspring with these words, Kit folding down the top half of his newspaper so that he could pay attention, Lady Adeline continued, 'Quite by accident …'

At this Iphigenia and Kit exchanged meaningful glances. Accustomed, as they were, to their mother's language codes and conventions they both knew her to mean instead deliberately and on purpose.

'… I happened to be spending a pleasant hour or so taking the air and strolling the streets in the vicinity of Hookham's library this morning. After some time, I was entirely astonished and chagrined to indulge in a moment of clumsiness just as my sister-in-law, Lady Wynleigh – whom I have never before met in my life – was emerging from the premises.'

Her two children once again exchanged glances, as Lady Adeline paused in her tale to make one foot comfortable upon a nearby foot-stool.

'Perceiving me all embarrassment and apology, I was obliged to explain myself by alluding to our familial connection,' Lady Adeline remarked, casually finding her tambour frame from within the hidden depths of the chair.

Iphigenia and Kit had great difficulty in imagining their mother in a state even approximating the one she described.

'Lady Wynleigh was most obliging, and she acknowledged the connection between us, a circumstance for which I expressed suitable gratitude, and penitence for the estrangement that has had to exist between myself and my blood relations during the last twenty-five years.

'Furthermore,' Lady Adeline looked up at her audience with a keen eye glinting, 'she was gracious enough to express her willingness to welcome me to Wynleigh Park itself.' She smiled a skeletal grin of achievement at this piece of manipulation.

Iphigenia and Kit mentally inserted, she said whatever pleasantry she thought would rid her of you the fastest, and – not for the first time in their lives – were awed at both their formidable parent's audacity and resourcefulness.

'So you see,' concluded Lady Adeline, with satisfaction, 'your great good fortune, Iphigenia.'

Blankly, her daughter admitted, 'I am afraid that I do not, ma'am.'

Fixing her daughter with a baleful stare, Lady Adeline rejoined, 'I dare say you do not, at that. Judging by the extraordinarily small amount of progress you have made in your task, despite the length of time we have been in town, and the opportunities presented to you, it seems that I am the only person willing to exert themselves to some purpose!'

Iphigenia blushed, and looked at her hands folded in her lap.

Her mother continued, slightly less ferociously, 'Since you have done nothing to the purpose here in London, other than make yourself odious to any man presented to you, we shall remove to Wynleigh.'

Lady Adeline allowed sufficient pause for Kit and Iphigenia to recover from their astonishment at this announcement, before continuing, 'We shall see what your uncle's notice can do for you. Gaining the recognition of your Augden relations will doubtless do a great deal to improve your chances.'

Iphigenia was not filled with the joy that should have accompanied being the recipient of such good news. She ran her fingers around the edge of Lord Byron's poems, and remained silent.

Lady Adeline's sharp eye took note of this strange omission in her daughter's countenance. 'Allow me to add that had we not been so fortunate as to have found a way in to Wynleigh, I should have had no recourse other than to have become exceedingly displeased with you, Iphigenia.'

The young lady knew that this threat was much worse than it sounded … and Lady Adeline had imbued the statement with such venom anyway that it had sounded sufficiently dire.

Sourly, her mother untangled her embroidery threads. Looking at her task and not at her children, she said, 'Pack your things. Both of you. We shall see what Wynleigh might do for us all.' Kit and Iphigenia began to set aside their reading materials, as Lady Adeline concluded, 'I shall very much enjoy going home.' Her tone belied the sentiment, and she pierced the fabric in its round frame savagely with her needle and thread.

There was no argument that could prevail against Lady Adeline's determination. And, if she were honest, Iphigenia had not much enjoyed her stay in London anyway. She rose, wordlessly, and went to summon her maid to assist her in packing, and Mr Ffouldes roused himself, after all, to ring for Dawlish to attend him.