Genevieve seated herself in the pink and white striped tablet chair beside the bed. *The farm has done well this year, the barns and granaries are generously stocked for winter.'

*A bad harvest always follows a good *un', Betsy said.

Lady Wexcombe wafted her lace-cuffed wrist. *Such tedious talk. Do you know nothing of the wider world, Genevieve?'

*Every day the plight of the poor worsens. With the number of idle rising, many are forced to take ships to North America.' Thinking about Fur, she added, quietly, *I wonder whether he survived the voyage to Canada.'

*I do declare, Lady Genevieve, that your line of impolite conversation is calculated to disturb my timid nature.'

Hortence stood before the looking-glass, dressing her hair with tortoiseshell combs. Admiring herself, she chewed her lips to redden them. *Oh, so gloomy! We must contemplate some entertainment. What about holding a ball?'

*After the corn was in, a Harvest Home was held in the threshing barn,' Genevieve said. *Father stopped the merrymakings the year after I left for Malstowe.'

*You are surely not implying that we hold the ball in a barn?' Hortence asked. *A barn is for pigs. It shall be in the Great Hall. Gabriel goes to London tomorrow. He will take invitations. He must also invite all the local gentry.'

*Do you not think that his lordship would take exception to us arranging such an event?' her mother asked.

*Not at all. Often you have recounted to Permelia and I about the balls you used to attend at Tunnygrave Manor.'

*We would need musicians,' Permelia said, *and a vast stock of victuals.'

*Are you aware if his lordship keeps a vast stock of victuals?' Lady Wexcombe asked Genevieve.

*I think it most unlikely.'

*I wonder who we shall invite,' Hortence pondered. *There is Lord Tyllstoy and his family, and Lady Peppelowe.'

*I see no occasion for her to attend,' Lady Wexcombe said dismissively. *I have not the slightest opinion of her.'

*Miss Mendelove?'

*A most charming young lady,' her mother reflected.

*I'll hobble over to the graveyard, Eppie. See if *em rats have scratched up any nails.'

*Catesby and his company must come,' Permelia enthused.

*By all means,' her mother answered.

*Lady Smert also,' Hortence said.

Lady Wexcombe sniffed with disdain. *We owe her no particular courtesy; it would be most tiresome to invite such a specimen.'

*Before Genevieve is exhibited at the ball, it is imperative that she becomes acquainted with the customs of polite society,' Permelia said.

*Such as?' Genevieve asked.

Permelia picked up her fan, beautifully made from horn with mother-of-pearl ornamentation. *Such as the language of the fan. One holds it in one's left hand, thus; in front of the face infers that one is desirous of making a gentleman's acquaintance.' Coquettishly, she fluttered her eyelashes. *Flourish your fan as the company leave and your beau will know that you mean him not to forget you.'

Taking up her fan, Hortence pursed her lips. *A fan on the lips, kiss me!'

*If Genevieve is to develop a habit of wealth and fashion, something must be done about her hair,' Permelia said.

*Apollo's knots would be a marked improvement,' Hortence suggested. *Although with that shocking scorch mark about her ear I expect it would be best if she retains her bird's-nest style.'

*When I was a child I remember my mother dressing to attend a ball,' said Lady Wexcombe. *She ornamented her hair with the prow of a ship. It was a fetching style, considered to be the height of elegance.'

*Sister, I have the most entertaining idea,' Hortence said. *Let us embellish Lady Genevieve's hair this very afternoon.'

Genevieve wanted to get along with the sisters to please Gabriel, but this was taking things too far. *I think not,' she said warily.

*I think so,' Hortence persisted.

Whilst Hortence and Permelia ransacked the house and garden in search of curious objects, Genevieve read Lord Byron's Hours of Idleness to Lady Wexcombe.

Compelled for the last two weeks to remain indoors as companion to the sick lady, Genevieve felt claustrophobic. Earlier that morning, she had gone to watch the shearing in the threshing barn. As custom would have it she took with her packets of tobacco for each of the men who, that night, would attend the sheepshearers' dance.

In reality, it was an excuse to see Samuel. Since the arrival of the Wexcombes he had barely spoken more than a few words to her, and these of a servile address, of a servant to his mistress.

*Why can't things be the way they were, Grumps? I want nothing to change between you and me.'

He seemed to shrivel into himself. *Things are different, whether you wish it or not. You're a lady now.'

*Don't call me a lady; it puts such a distance between us. Say we may go on as before.'

*'ee knows that wun't be right, One-Quart. You have to forget the way we was.' He added, less forcefully, regret in his voice, *I have to.'

*What about this?' Hortence had discovered an ornament of the ruined folly.

*Or this two-handled watering can?' Permelia said, clutching it with a fragment of linen.

Curious as to the reason for the sisters' shrieks of laughter, Gabriel peered around the door, smiling.

Genevieve sat before the dressing table. Wired to a pad of false hair, garlanded with beads and ribbons, was a stuffed snipe which Hortence had taken from a glass-fronted cabinet in the Brown Room.

*Take that ridiculous thing off!' he demanded, sensitive to the sisters' playful malice and Genevieve's gullibility.

The sisters blushed, their looks of guilt betraying their embarrassment that he should expose their jest.

*It is fashionable,' Hortence objected. *Don't you think it makes Genevieve look even more amusing?'

It was rare that Gabriel displayed expressions of rage. This was one of those occasions. *You have no right to make fun of my sister!'

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE.

SHATTERED WINGS.

Genevieve desperately needed to hide her face in humiliation, and sought out the familiarity and solace of the Swan Chamber.

*Grr!' she roared as she marched along the passageway, tearing at the snipe, which now hung upside down, tangled in her hair. *Grr! Grrr! Grrrr!!'

Talia was playing with the ghostly baby-house.

The sight of her sister, her calmness and compassion, eased Genevieve.

Fetching out a chair made from a chicken's wishbone, Talia made to pass it into Genevieve's hands.

*What do I wish?' Genevieve said. *I wish with all my heart that you had never died. I wish I could hug you, proper like. I wish Molly had never died. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I heard Wakelin crying about her. It made me feel so sad. If only he could have seen her one more time.'

The wide window sill in the drawing room was bathed in sunshine. Genevieve settled here, hidden by thick curtains, to read Goldsmith's Deserted Village. She had read to Where wealth accumulates, and men decay, when Hortence and Permelia drifted in, tittering as though over a secret shared.

*I do believe you have designs on Lord du Quesne. Do not refute it.'

*I do not,' Permelia replied. *He is most courteous, most handsome, but he is promised to another.'

*To a girl raised in a poorhouse? A girl who once slaved in a seamstress's garret? I think, my beloved sister, that you would have more claim on him if only he could be made to see the absurdity of holding on to his blinkered vision of this worthless creature.'

Genevieve was about to throw back the drapes, to argue in Rowan's defence, when there came a rap at the door.

*Enter,' Hortence said in a superior manner, as though she herself were the Queen of Sheba.

*If you please, ma'am,' the butler said, *there is a gentleman who wishes to speak with you.'

*Admit,' Hortence said.

Genevieve sneaked a look. A well-dressed man, his thinning hair brushed over a bald patch, bowed over the hand of each daughter in turn. With his other hand he held his lock in place to stop it from slipping. *I come with admirable tidings. I have managed to take a lease on a house in Bath, ready for your mother and your good selves to move into straightaway.'

*That is admirable news,' Hortence answered. *I am tired of this hateful household. It is so quiet. We rarely have any visitors.'

Permelia was less keen to remove from Gabriel. *Doctor Burndread is adamant that mother should not be stirred. We must be patient a while longer I think, sister.'

*Eppie!' It was Martha shouting. *Where are you?'

Genevieve leapt from her place of concealment.

*What a fright!' Permelia exclaimed, embarrassed that Genevieve had overheard their scheming words about Gabriel. *You fair took the breath from my body. Huber-Percy, might I introduce Lady Genevieve du Quesne.'

Martha burst in. *There you are! Ella's here!'

*It is vulgar to appear in a hurry!' Permelia cried as Genevieve fled the room.

*And it is vulgar of you to shout!' Genevieve yelled back.

In the carriage yard stood the brewery wagon, Dusty tethered behind.

Ella leapt from the wagon, and she and Genevieve fell into one another's arms, laughing in delight at being together. *My family were overwhelmed to hear about your good fortune! I couldn't miss this opportunity to come and see you.'

Hearing the rumpus, Gabriel strode out to greet the visitors.

Dusty's thick felt ears twitched under Dick's stroking hand. *You're a fine-looking girl.'

Genevieve pressed her cheek against the donkey's neck, revelling in the velvety softness of her fur. *I've missed you, Dusty.'

*I went over to Mulberry Farm to fetch her back for you,' Jonas said. *I had the same trouble with her as I'd had with Cross-Eyes; I couldn't wean the barmy thing off the ale. While you were in Malstowe, George told me that he was happy for Dusty to live out her days on his farm, thinking you was never coming back.'

Ella blushed, seeing Dick smiling at her.

*Dick, find a place for Dusty?' Genevieve asked.

Dick touched his cap. *Will do, yer ladyship.'

*Nice, isn't he!' Genevieve said, as she and Ella watched him lead Dusty away. *His name's Dick Pebbleton.' Enjoying the role of matchmaker she called after him, *Dick, show Ella around the stables? I'm sure she would like to see Dusty settled in.'

Ella grinned back at Genevieve as she followed Dick.

Another wagon trundled up. *Sam!' Genevieve picked up her skirts and tore down the track to greet him. He looked the same as she remembered, though his hair, like Martha's, was greying.

Sam had already paid a few calls to Tunnygrave Manor, on one occasion with his brother Lewis.

Directly upon his return from Malstowe, Gabriel had engaged a barrister on Sam's behalf, the outcome of which was that he would not have to return to jail.

When Mr Grimley visited Sam and Lewis at their farmstead, Sam had recognised him as the mysterious gentleman whom he had seen in Squire Bulwar's study on that fateful day when he had been arrested by the magistrate's men.

One morning, whilst Genevieve and the others were taking tea in the drawing room, Mr Grimley said he'd guessed all along that Thurstan knew Rowan and Dawkin were the Bulwar's great-grandchildren. That was the reason why Thurstan had made pretence that Dawkin had killed Squire Bulwar. It was an excuse to have him thrown into jail, and ultimately hung.

It was now Genevieve's turn to rush around, shouting for Martha.

Smelling of coal-tar disinfectant, she emerged from the scullery, where she had been helping a maid scrub stone shelves. Nervously, she wrung her hands in her apron. By the look on Martha's face, Genevieve knew that her heart turned over at the sight of Sam.

*Do you recall that time at The Leaking Barrel when Dawkin walked in?' Martha had asked Genevieve on the first day Sam visited the manor. *I was startled because I thought him so alike to Sam. Now I understand why.'

Sam slapped the basket-hamper in his cart. *Tis a grand mornin', Mrs D. How's about we spend some time by the river? Lottie, Betsy? You're more than welcome, too. I've brought plenty to eat and a heap of blankets to sit upon.'

Martha patted her hair-bun into a state of tidiness. *I can't think of anything we'd rather do on such a pleasant day.'

*Eppie, are you coming?' Sam asked.

Gabriel answered for her. *I'm afraid that Genevieve and I have promised to entertain the Wexcombes.'

*I believe that mam loved Sam from the moment she set eyes on him,' Genevieve said as she and Gabriel watched them drive off.

Together they wandered past the shuttered windows of the dairy, and stepped onto the lawn.