Mrs Pearson dressed in her oldest clothes to brave the attic, she suspected, rightly as it turned out, that it had not been dusted in some time. Tom accompanied her and showed her which few pieces of furniture stored there had belonged to Lady Julia. There was a beautiful, polished writing table with patterns of mother of pearl inlaid on the drawers, a delicate white painted dressing table with gilt trim and, under a dust cloth, was a chaise longue made of rosewood with cream satin cushions.

"If there are any papers here they will be in the desk or the dressing table," mused Mrs Pearson, opening the two larger drawers in the dressing table as she spoke. They were empty however, the brushes and cosmetics obviously removed before the piece was brought to Lady Murray's house. The small drawers mounted on each side of the dressing table were also empty.

She turned to the writing desk and found that several of the drawers were locked. This looked promising and she hunted eagerly until she found the small key. Triumphantly she drew forth the small bundle of letters tied with pink ribbon, only to find after a brief glance that they were love letters from Sir Thomas. Hastily she returned them, a slight blush on her cheeks, who would have thought Sir Thomas was so romantic?

Eventually she found a small puzzle box at the back of one of the drawers. How did it open? She tried pushing several sections of wood without success and put it aside to take down to Lady Anna. There were no other papers in the desk. She picked up the puzzle box and made her way carefully down stairs, followed by Tom, thankful that he hadn't been asked to carry down any of the furniture.

Her employer was seated in the morning salon, waiting for her return. "Well?"

"Lady Anna? Do you remember how to open the puzzle box? I found it in Lady Julia's writing desk and I think it is the same one she had as a child." Mrs Pearson put it carefully into Lady Anna's outstretched hands.

"Let me see," she murmured, her fingers sliding over the wood. It was shaped like a small row of books in a bookshelf. "I think I have it." The bottom shelf slid to the left, allowing the books, which were in one piece to rotate clockwise, in turn exposing a small keyhole. "Do we have the key?" she asked.

"I do not think so," answered Mrs Pearson regretfully. "It certainly was not in the desk. What shall we do?"

"Tom? Do you think you can open it with a knife?" asked Lady Murray.

"I can try, my lady," said Tom doubtfully. "I'll be back in a minute." He returned shortly carrying a small kitchen knife, "Will you hand it to me, my lady?" He fiddled with the point of the blade for a few minutes, "I think I'll have to break the lock, my lady."

She nodded and in a few seconds the box was open. Tom gave it to Mrs Pearson and she carefully withdrew the tightly folded papers from inside. "It looks like two letters, Lady Anna. Shall I read them?" With her employer directly in front of her she felt obliged to ask permission, even as her fingers were already unfolding the thin paper.

"Go ahead."

Mrs Pearson gave a gasp as her eyes flew ahead to the signature at the bottom. "It is from Miss Amanda, my lady!"

Lady Murray pursed her lips tightly, "You may leave us Tom." She would have given anything to have been able to dismiss her companion as well and read the letters alone but she needed her eyes. Although she could distinguish between light and dark, she certainly could not see enough to read.

"My dearest Julia,

I hope this finds you well. My beautiful baby has arrived safely. She takes after Henry, she has his hair but my eyes. We have christened her Frances Julia Metcalf, although we are not using that name here in France of course! My health is not yet what it should be, but the doctor says I should regain my strength if I do not do too much. Easy for him to say! I have written to Mother but I do not know if she will even open my letter, you know how bitterly we parted and she has not forgiven me. I hope the birth of her granddaughter may change her heart. My dearest sister I miss you so much and although I am homesick for England, my baby gives me great joy. Henry sends his warmest regards,

Your loving sister Amanda"

Mrs Pearson stopped reading to wipe a tear from her eye and looked at Lady Murray's closed face.

'We must keep this to ourselves for a while," she ordered. "I need to consider what this means."

"But surely," faltered Mrs Pearson, "It means you have a granddaughter ... doesn't it?"

"It would certainly appear so, but whether she is legitimate or not is still uncertain. What is in the other letter?" she asked.

Her companion looked down as she unfolded the second sheet of paper.

"My dear Julia

I write this to you at the request of our beloved Amanda. I have sad news. Her health has not improved as we had hoped and the doctor says she has not long now. She sends you her love and hopes for a happy and fulfilling life for you. We received your letter at Christmas and it was the source of much pleasure to her. We have not heard a word from your mother. Amanda tells me she has forgiven her but I cannot – however I will say no more. I hope one day we will be able to return to England and you will be able to meet your niece who is growing more beautiful and more delightful every day. I hope this finds you in good health,

Your loving brother and sister,

Henry and Amanda"

Tears were running down Mrs Pearson's cheeks as she finished, and it took a while for Lady Murray's next words to penetrate.

"Burn it!"

"Pardon me?" Surely she had misheard.

"You heard me, throw it on the fire!" Lady Murray made as if to snatch the paper from the old nurse's hands. Not really aware of why she did it, Mrs Pearson tucked the letter quickly into her reticule, then she leant forward and audibly stoked up the fire. "There, it is done," she lied.

Hastily she checked that she had the other letter safe. Yes, there it was. She tucked that inside her reticule as well. "I think I will go upstairs and have a rest, my lady. Shall I call Annie to you?"

"Yes, thank you, Maria. Remember what I said, not a word to anyone yet," Lady Murray emphasised.

"Of course not, my lady."

For the first time, Mrs Pearson wondered if Lady Murray had in fact received the letters sent by her daughter but had chosen to ignore them. She knew she was high in the instep but to put respectability and propriety before family was something Mrs Pearson could not understand.

Meanwhile Lady Murray was weighing her options. She decided it was time to call in her solicitor, he had as vested an interest as she did in making sure Frances was not accepted as a legitimate heir and paid out her ten thousand pounds. She summoned Hanson, her butler, to send a message to Mr Pilkington asking him to call at his earliest convenience. There was no legal proof of anything so far, she would simply stand firm and deny the relationship, but it would be better if Mrs Pearson was not involved in this, she was too sentimental. Would it be possible to see that she was sent on a short holiday?

~~~

Mrs Madden did not know what to do. She was sincerely shocked and distressed by the goings on of the last week at Chatswood. She had known there was something shady about Francis from the beginning, at first she thought he was there merely to hang on Richard's coattails but then she grew increasingly uncomfortable at the insidious way he was worming his way into Richard's confidence.

When she overheard the squire's exclamation in the study she had been absolutely horrified to learn that Frances was a woman. How dared Richard bring his light o' love to his home, to parade around in breeches in front of everyone? She was obviously completely shameless. She must have bewitched him, Lord Carleton had always behaved with dignity and propriety until now but he was clearly infatuated with the strumpet. What could she do to save him from himself?

She attempted to approach Theo with her concerns but he refused to discuss Richard with her, "Leave it be, Maddy. Richard is a grown man, he'll not appreciate you meddling in his affairs."

But if she didn't, who else would? That was when the name of Lady Anna Murray popped into her head. Frances was apparently some sort of relation, if Lady Murray, a high stickler by all accounts, knew about her behaviour she would be certain to take drastic measures to control her. Mrs Madden vacillated for a while but finally decided it was her duty to protect Richard. She went upstairs to her room and sat down at her little writing desk.

"My dear Lady Murray,

I am writing to you to tell you about the wanton behaviour of the person who goes by the name of Frances. I understand she is a connection of yours. She dresses in male attire and recently spent a week at the house of Lord Richard Carleton, as his close companion! I do not need to tell you the scandal this would cause if it became known. I hope you can do something about this,

Yours sincerely,

A friend"

Before she could reconsider, she folded the paper, addressed and sealed it, and put it in her reticule to post when she was next in Guildford. A couple of days later she posted the letter feeling virtuous, she had done all she could, now it was out of her hands. Richard would never have to know.