Sweet lass of Richmond Hill

Life in Lulworth Castle

Maria Smythe lay on the hard pallet in her sparsely furnished room—which was more like a cell—and wept silently, asking herself how she could bear to be torn away from this place which had been her home for so many years.

Tomorrow Papa would come to take her away and she would leave her school-fellows, the dear nuns, the Mother Superior, the routine of the convent and Paris, and go back to England. How strange it seemed that when she had known she was to come here she had wept as bitterly at the thought of leaving her home in Brambridge as she was now weeping at the prospect of leaving the convent.

Maria sat up. Perhaps there was comfort in that. Perhaps she would become reconciled to life in Brambridge just as she had to life in the convent before she had grown to love it. But it would be different, of course. At home she would have to think about marrying for she knew well enough that this was the reason why she was being brought back to England. It happened with regularity to all the girls. They came here to be educated as good Catholics in the Convent of the Blew Nuns; then they returned home where suitable husbands were found for them; they produced children and, if they were girls, they in their turn came to the Convent. That was the pattern of Catholic girlhood.

The door opened slightly and her sister Frances appeared. Frances's eyes were red with weeping and she sniffed pathetically as she ran to the pallet and threw herself into Maria's arms.

"It's all right," soothed Maria. "You'll be all right when I'm gone. And in a very short time it will be your turn"

Frances looked up at her sister with adoration. Maria was not only the most beautiful person she knew; she was the kindest. What was little Frances going to do—newly arrived at the convent—with no Maria to protect her?

Maria immediately dismissed her own misgivings in order to comfort her sister. She pushed the heavy corn-coloured hair out of her eyes and said: "Mamma and Papa will come and visit you perhaps. Perhaps I shall come myself. And in a very short time—far shorter than seems possible now— you will be feeling sad because it is your turn to leave all this."

"But you will not be here, Maria."

"I shall write to you."

"But they will find a husband for you and even when I come home you won't be there."

"I shall invite you to my house and find a husband for you. You will live close by and we shall see each other every day."

"Oh, Maria, is that possible?"

"With Maria Smythe all things are possible."

Frances began to giggle. "Oh, Maria, Reverend Mother would say that you blaspheme."

"Then I pray you do not tell her or I shall be summoned to her presence." Maria folded her arms in an imitation of Reverend Mother. ""Maria Smythe, I hear that you believe yourself omniscient."

"Yes, Holy Mother."

"Then I pray you go to Versailles and tell the King that he must give up his evil ways."

"Yes, Holy Mother."

" She began to laugh. "Oh, I am ridiculous, am I not, Frances? Still, you are laughing."

"But you did go to Versailles, Maria, once."

Frances was asking for the story which she had heard before, so Maria obligingly told it.

"It was when Mamma and Papa came to visit me here ... as they will come to visit you. And naturally they took me to see the sights. One of the most exciting of these was a visit to Versailles. Oh, Frances, you will love to visit Versailles. There is not another palace in the world like it. The gardens, the fountains, the statues ... they are like something you have dreamed of. And the great palace with all its windows that sparkle like diamonds when the sun is on them."

"I wish we could go together, Maria."

"Well, we will talk about it when you come back to England. And we shall laugh together. Oh, you will love it here. Everyone seems so gay." Maria's face clouded for a moment. "Except some of the poor people. But you will love Versailles and you can go into the Palace and see the King having his dinner. It is so funny. There he sits in state behaving as though he is quite alone and only the barrier separates him from all the people who have come to watch him eat. I have heard that the funniest thing is the way in which he can knock the top off his egg at one stroke. But, alas, he was not eating an egg on the day Mamma and Papa took me to see him dine."

Frances was already beginning to laugh at what was to come, but Maria had no intention of arriving at a hasty conclusion.

"It is necessary to have a ticket to get into the Palace and this Papa had. Anyone can go in provided they have a ticket, except begging friars and people marked with the small pox, but before you go in you must have a sword and a hat and there are people at the gates selling these. You will laugh at the people, Frances. They put on their hats and flourish their swords and some of them have never carried a sword before. And then into the Palace. You will never forget it. It is quite magnificent. The hall of mirrors! You can see yourself reflected again and again and again.

"Yes, Maria, and when you came to the apartment where the King was dining ..."

"Oh, Frances, what a disgrace! There we were close to the rope which held us back. Papa had brought me to stand ia front of him so that I could see everything."

"And the King of France ..."

"Is a very old man, Frances. The Dauphin is his grandson. He is not nearly so handsome as his grandfather, for although the King is so old you know just by looking at him that he is a king. But the Dauphin's wife is lovely. She is like a fairy. I saw them together. She is Austrian."

"Where Papa served in the Army," said Frances. "I wonder if he saw her there."

"I doubt it. But I was telling you about the King at dinner. Well, Frances, his servants brought in a chicken. They kneel before him when they serve him; and he is so fastidious, with the most beautiful white hands sparkling with diamonds, and suddenly he picked up a chicken and tore it apart with his hands. Oh, Frances, it seemed to me so funny."

"Go on, Maria. Go on."

"There was silence. Everyone was watching the King and suddenly ... I laughed. I laughed out loud and I could not stop laughing, Frances, because for some silly reason it seemed so funny."

"Yes, yes?"

"And the King said to the man who was serving him, "Who is that laughing?" And Papa held my hand very tightly and I stopped laughing for the man came right over to where I was standing. He said: "Who are you and what is your name?" Papa was about to speak and I thought: No. I will not let Papa take the blame. So I said very loudly and very quickly. "I am Maria Smythe, an English girl from the Conception Convent in the Faubourg St. Antoine. It was I who laughed at the King."" Maria became convulsed with laughter in which joined Frances, temporarily forgetting the imminent parting. "Oh, Frances, the ceremony! It has to be seen to be believed. The King went on eating his chicken as though nothing had happened, and I stood there shivering, thinking that I should be carried off to prison and wondering what it was like living in a cell in the Bastille or the Conciergerie. I watched the man bowing and speaking to the King; then he took something from the table and came over to where I stood. I realized how grand he was when he spoke. "Mademoiselle, I, the Duc de Soubise, have the honour to present to you His Majesty's compliments. His Majesty wishes you to do him the honour of accepting this gift which he hopes will amuse you." He then presented me with a silver dish."

"Which you still have," said Frances.

Maria nodded. "And which" she went on, "was full of sugar plums."

"Show me the dish, Maria."

Maria went to the bag which was already packed and took out a beautiful dish of silver on which a delicate pattern was traced.

"It's lovely," cried Frances. "And you had it just for laughing. It's a royal gift, Maria. The first royal gift you have ever had."

"And the last, I dareswear," said Maria lightly. "But it is a lovely dish and I still laugh when I see it. And I envy you, Frances, to stay in Paris, for how I love Paris! I love it in the mornings when it is just beginning to wake up and there is an air of excitement everywhere and the streets are rilled with the smells of cooking and the shops open and people are all scuttling about in the excited way they have. You can't help catching the excitement. Brambridge seems very dull in comparison."

"Brambridge is dull," admitted Frances. "The only excitement is going to Mass."

"So that is the same, is it. Do they still lock the door of the chapel when Mass is celebrated?"

"Yes. And apart from that it is all so quiet. Lessons every day and a little riding in the park and we don't know many people because most of our neighbours are Protestants and Mamma and Papa won't allow us to know them."

It was Maria's turn to be mournful. "Oh, lucky Frances!" she sighed.

A happy phase of her life was over; a new one was about to begin. She would have to learn to adjust herself to life at home as she had in Paris—and at least she had succeeded in comforting Frances.

The house in Brambridge seemed smaller than she had been imagining it. Perhaps, she thought wryly, she had compared it with Versailles. On the journey back they had passed through London and an excitement had touched her then, for the capital city reminded her of Paris. Perhaps this was because in Paris there had been a craze for all things English and the Parisians had been copying the English style of dress ... masculine of course. The men wore severely cut coats and white cravats and riding boots; and shops were advertising le the as drunk in England. Maria had felt excited by the big city, but of course they could not linger there. And when they had at length arrived in the beautiful county of Hampshire and passed through Winchester on the way to Brambridge and the carriage took them up the avenue of limes she felt a certain emotion, for this after all was home. Yet she did remember that the Mother Superior had embraced her with affection when she had left and had told her that if ever she wished to return to the Blew Nuns there would always be a welcome for her, implying that Maria Smythe would always remain one of the favourite pupils.

There was the house—a country mansion, the home of a squire and his family. Mamma was waiting to welcome her and embraced her, then held her at arms' length. "Let me look at you, Maria. Why, how you have grown! Who would have thought that this was my little Maria?"

"Oh, Mamma, it is so good to see you."

"And you have been happy with the Nuns?"

"They were very kind to me."

Mary Smythe smiled. Who would not be good to this charming young creature? How wise they had been to send her away. She had poise and charm and of course she spoke French like a native. Consequently they had a beautiful, intelligent and educated girl to launch on society.

"Come into the house, daughter. You will have forgotten what it looks like after all this time."

Arm in arm, mother and daughter entered the house and there were the boys waiting to give her a boisterous greeting.

"Be careful, boys," cried their father, "you will harm Maria's Paris coiffure."

John reached up and tried to pull down the golden hair which was piled high on Maria's head.

She jerked away from him, laughing. "We all have to wear it high because Madame la Dauphine has a high forehead and wears hers so. It's the fashion."

"And a most becoming one," said Mary.

"I'm so pleased you approve, Mamma."

"Come, my dearest, to your room. I have had a larger one prepared for you. It overlooks the lime avenue. I trust you will like it."

"Oh, Mamma, I am happy to be home."

"I feared that you would not wish to leave the nuns."

"Nor did I. But I wanted to be home, too"

"You are fortunate, my dear, to have so much that you enjoy. I hope Frances will feel the same."

"But of course she must, Mamma."

Mary smiled, well pleased with her daughter. The boys were merry but inclined to be too boisterous and a little selfish. And Frances? Well, they would see. But perhaps there was only one Maria.

Later Walter and Mary discussed their daughter.

"She is charming," said Mary. "And a beauty. Her hair is quite lovely and her eyes ... that lovely hazel colour! Her complexion is quite perfect. It is like rose petals."

"You are a fond mother."

"Can you deny what I have said?"

"She has my nose. It would have been better if she had yours."

"What nonsense! It adds character to her face. I think an aquiline nose is so attractive. Without it she would be insipid."

"You are determined to eulogize your daughter, Madam."

"Well, Sir, tell me if you can see one fault in her."

Walter looked dubious and Mary cried triumphantly, "There, you cannot. You are as proud of her as I am."

"I admit to falling under the spell of our Maria. She has returned from France even more delightful than when she went."

"Even the King of France was delighted by her."

"Oh, those sugar plums. He would have behaved so to any child."

"I don't agree. He saw her, was enchanted by her, and wished to make her a present."

"I do not like to think of that man's making gifts to our daughter ... even though he thought of her as a child."

Mary nodded. "A sad state of affairs. No wonder the French are displeased with their king. Maria was telling me that he never goes to Paris at all because the people dislike him so much. They feel differently towards the Dauphin and his young Austrian wife. At least our King leads a good life, although there have been rumours about his early indiscretions. Did you know, I heard the other day that he had kept a Quakeress before his marriage and had even gone through a ceremony of marriage with her."

"Rumours, Mary, to which it is unwise to listen and more unwise still to repeat."

"Well, here's a more pleasant rumour. I have heard that he is inclined to be tolerant to religious minorities. The Quakers for one."

"So here we are back to the Quaker rumour."

"Well, is it not important to us? If he is lenient towards Quakers why not to Catholics? I think we are lucky to have such a king and he will do something for us. Oh, Walter, it infuriates me to think we have to go almost stealthily to Mass and lock the door of the chapel."

Walter checked this flow by bringing the subject back to Maria.

"Our beautiful daughter is seventeen. Is it not time that we looked for a husband for her?"

Mary sighed. "It's true, of course, but I wish it were not so. I should love to keep her with me for a little longer."

"Well, there is no hurry, but we have our duty to her, you know. She will not have a big dowry."

"Her dowry will be her beauty and her charm, and have you noticed Mr. Smythe that she has in addition to these the sweetest of natures?"

"Your daughter is a paragon, I doubt not, Madam. Therefore, in spite of her small dowry I am sure she will make a most satisfactory marriage."

"But who is there here in Brambridge?"

"No one worthy of her, I agree. That is why I have come to discuss with you the possibility of sending her to your rich brother at Red Rice for a visit. I am sure he will be eager to do all that is possible for his charming niece"

Maria's parents were right when they said that Henry Errington would be delighted to welcome his charming niece to his mansion in Red Rice. He had heard accounts of her beauty and when he saw her he was impressed.

He would invite some wealthy and eligible young men to the house if he could find them. That was the problem. He had wealthy neighbours with eligible young sons, but they were Protestants and the most important quality the bridegroom must have was that he must be of the approved religion.

Still, he would do the best he could and he would invite his old friend Edward Weld to come and stay that he might ask his advice. Edward's first wife had been a daughter of Lord Petre, and although unfortunately she was dead, Edward did entertain now and then at Lulworth Castle. Henry knew he would be pleased to help.

In due course Edward Weld arrived at Red Rice and Henry took him to his study to discuss the problem.

"My niece is a delightful creature, educated as few girls are today and in addition lovely to look at and of an engaging disposition. I don't feel it will be difficult to find a husband for her in spite of her lack of dowry."

"How old is she?" Edward Weld wanted to know.

"Seventeen."

"Very young."

"Yes, but my sister has another daughter and she would like to see Maria suitably placed. I wondered, my dear friend, whether you could help me in this matter."

"I'll do everything I can, of course. What do you suggest?"

"Perhaps you could invite me to Lulworth and include my niece in the invitation?"

"Easily done. You and your niece are invited."

"We have great pleasure in accepting."

"Without consulting the young lady?"

"Maria is the most obliging of young women. I only have to say that I wish to go and her to accompany me and she will wish to please me."

"I must say you make me eager to see this charming creature."

"I love the girl although I have only just made her acquaintance so to speak; she's been in Paris so long and was only a child when I knew her before she went to France. I am not so sure that I'm all that eager for her to marry. I'd like to adopt her and keep her with me."

Her parents would never agree to that, I'm sure."

"And I'm equally sure of it. But come into the gardens. I think we shall find Maria there."

Maria was picking roses and her uncle was delighted with the impression she made on his friend, for he had seen that Edward had dismissed his praise of his niece as avuncular pride.

"Maria, my dear, come and meet Mr. Edward Weld."

She looked up from the rose bush and the flowers, thought her uncle fondly, were not more lovely than she was, as setting down her basket she dropped an enchanting curtsey.

"Mr. Weld has invited me to Lulworth Castle, Maria, and has suggested that you accompany me. How would you like that?"

"It sounds delightful and I shall be most happy to go with you, Uncle."

"There, Edward," said Henry Errington, "Your invitation is accepted."

Edward Weld smiled, well pleased, and Henry noticed with pleasure that his friend found it difficult to take his eyes from Maria.

Before Edward Weld left the house he told Henry Errington that he wished to speak to him confidentially and Henry asked him to come with him into his library for this purpose.

As soon as they were alone Edward burst out: "You may have noticed how I feel about Maria. Henry, what chance do you think I should have if I asked her to marry me?"

"You ...Edward!"

"Oh come, Henry, I'm not as old as all that, I am forty-four years of age. Maria is almost eighteen. A disparity I admit, but I cannot help but love her and I—and you too—can assure her parents that I will cherish her and give her everything that— and more than perhaps—she has been accustomed to."

"I am sure you would, Edward. Have you spoken to Maria?"

"Certainly not. I have spoken to you first. I should want Maria's family's permission before I spoke to her. Well, Henry?"

Henry was thinking: Edward Weld, a Catholic, a good living man, a rich man, the owner of Lulworth Castle, a widower who had enjoyed one happy marriage with a wife who had been the daughter of a lord. He was sure that Maria's parents could find no fault with such a match.

"There is one thing," said Henry, "my sister and brother-in-law dote on the girl. I doubt they would force her into marriage. The answer would depend on her."

"Perhaps she would be so delighted with the Castle ..."

"I doubt it. Maria would never be tempted by material gain."

Edward looked a little uneasy. His health was not good; he was not of an age to shine in courting a young girl; he had hoped to dazzle her family with his wealth, but if that was of no account his chances would be small.

His friend laid a hand on his arm. "Maria is fond of you^I am sure, but I think though that she regards you in the light of an ... uncle, which is natural considering you are my friend. Perhaps that will change. I should not declare your intentions immediately, but I will write to her parents and let them know what they are. In the meantime we will go to Lulworth as arranged."

Lulworth! What a delightful spot. And Mr. Weld seemed a different man in his own home. She wanted to hear all about the castle; she wanted to explore it. Would she allow Mr. Weld to take her on a tour of inspection? She did not wish to encroach on his time because she was sure he had serious business which did not include wasting his time on a girl like herself. But no, Mr. Weld would be delighted; he was gratified that she should be so interested in his home and he would allow no one to show it to her but himself.

"It is not old ... as castles go" he told her. "My family bought it little more than a hundred years ago, in 1641, for although the foundations were laid about the time the Armada was defeated, the castle wasn't completed until some forty years later."

"It must be most exciting to live in a castle."

"I find it so. Do you think you would?"

"I'm sure I should."

"Well, who knows, perhaps you will."

She laughed lightheartedly. "I hardly think so. I shall have to be content with our house which is very pleasant but by no means a castle."

"But perhaps you won't live there always. Perhaps you will marry and er ..."

"Who can say? Have you a chapel in the castle?"

"Yes. Would you like to see it?"

"Very much. At home we have to worship in the priest's house. Papa has made a chapel there. It must be wonderful to have your own chapel."

He laid his hand on her arm and she showed no objection. She thinks of me as an uncle, he thought despairingly. And how lovely she was! How young! How full of health and vigour.

On the way to the chapel he pointed out the round towers at each corner of the building, battlemented and made of Chelmark Stone. She was deeply interested in everything and delighted when he pointed out how the chapel had been built in four sections to make a cross.

She thought the views from the park were delightful, looking across the Dorset coast as they did, and she suggested climbing to the top of one of the towers for a better view.

She led the way up the narrow stone spiral staircase. The way was steep; it was years since he had been up there; he followed her, trying to keep up, trying to hide his breathlessness, and when he finally stood beside her at the top of the tower she turned to him in alarm and cried: "Mr. Weld, are you feeling ill?"

"No, no ..." he gasped.

"But you are. Oh dear, how careless of me! I ran up those stairs. Pray sit down. Yes, you must, Mr. Weld." She insisted he be seated on a stone ledge and she knelt beside him, looking up at him anxiously. He thought how beautiful she was in her concern and he loved her more than ever, but hopelessly, he thought. He had meant to impress her by his castle and all he had succeeded in doing was showing her that he was an old man.

"I am all right." He made to stand up.

But she would not hear it. She was charmingly authoritative. "Oh no, Mr. Weld. I insist."

"You insist."

She blushed. "I am sorry. But I really am a little anxious"

"I find it delightful that you should care for a poor old man."

"But of course I care. And you are not an old man. I have been stupid. I ran up those stairs. Mamma says I am sometimes thoughtless and I'm afraid I am."

"I... I find you charming. I would not change you."

"Careless or not?" Her laughter rang out.

"And what are you thinking of me?"

"Thar it was very kind of you to allow me to come here with Uncle Henry and to show me your beautiful castle and ..." She had paused to look at him. Then she added severely: "But I can see I shall have to make you more careful in future. There I've been impertinent again."

"Please go on ... being impertinent."

"Do you know, Mr. Weld, you are not in the least like an uncle. Do you feel rested now? Shall we go down?"

He rose and said: "One moment. Let us look over the parapet so that you can see the countryside."

She stood with him so close that a strand of her long hair blew across his face.

Ask her now? Say: "AH this is mine. Share it with me." If she were mercenary ... but she was not. She was just sweet, innocent and infinitely desirable.

"Maria," he began.

She turned to him, her eyes shining with pleasure in the beautiful landscape.

"Yes, Mr. Weld?" she prompted.

"You like ... all this?"

"Certainly. Who could help it?"

"You would like to live here?"

"I think it's the most delightful spot."

"Then ..."

She looked at him expectantly.

"No" he said. "I am too old ... and you are too young." Then she understood.

She was bewildered. She wanted to get to her room and think.

There was a letter from Mamma. Mr. Weld had offered marriage. Mamma and Papa had thought a great deal about this offer. Uncle Henry could vouch for Mr. Weld who was a good man and belonged to one of the foremost Catholic families in England. He was devoted to Maria; he did not ask for a dowry which, Maria would realize, was a great consideration, poor Papa's affairs being what they were. Mr. Weld had already proved himself a good husband to a lady of high rank. It was flattering that he should wish their dearest Maria to take her place, so Maria should think very seriously about this. It was not that they would force her to marry where she did not wish; they would not even urge her to do so; but what they would do was ask her to think very carefully of her position. She was not rich; she had little to offer but her beauty; there were the boys and Frances to consider. And while Mamma and Papa would not for one moment suggest that she accept Mr. Weld's offer if she did not wish to, they would be very happy if she decided to be wise and do so.

Maria read that letter over and over again.

Mr. Weld was so kind, so good, so very anxious to show her that he would understand perfectly if she refused his offer. Uncle Henry obviously wanted her to make his old friend happy; and she wanted to please everyone.

She took a delight in seeing that Mr. Weld did not exert himself. This pleased and yet disturbed him. He enjoyed her attentions, but at the same time was aware that they stressed his age.

And one summer's day when Mr. Weld seemed to find the heat too much for him and she exerted her charming tyranny and insisted that he sit in the shade with her instead of going to ride, she thought he seemed a little sad and she mentioned this.

He said: "There is only one thing that makes me sad, Maria. It is because I am not twenty years younger."

"Why should that make you sad? The young are often very foolish."

"It makes me sad because I am not your age. Then I could ask you to marry me and if you said yes I should no longer have any reason to be sad."

"You might ask me to marry you," she told him severely, "which is something you have not done yet, although you have spoken to my uncle and my parents on this matter. Perhaps if you were to ask me ..."

A look of great joy came into his face.

"Maria," he said, "will you marry me?"

"But certainly I will," answered Maria; and she laughed with pleasure to see his joy.

Edward Weld was delighted with his marriage; as soon as Maria had agreed he had hurried on the ceremony and Walter and Mary Smythe congratulated themselves that their eldest child had done very well. With little effort and no expense they had arranged for her an advantageous union, for at eighteen years old she was comfortably settled; her home was a castle; her husband was rich and indulgent and most important of all a Catholic.

As for Maria, she was very happy. It was gratifying to know that she could make her husband so happy; he delighted in showing her off to his friends and there were frequent house-parties at Lulworth Castle. Maria quickly learned to become a good hostess; the poise she had acquired in France was an additional asset and she could converse with the grace and ease of a much older person; and as she matured a little she grew even more beautiful.

Edward Weld could not do enough for her. Her portrait must be painted. He must always be able to see Maria as she was during this first year of marriage. He would have her painted beside him. There was a picture of him in the castle hall in which he was portrayed with his first wife, and as there was room to paint in Maria on the other side of him this was done. He was delighted with the result and whenever he came into the hall he would stand for a few moments looking at himself with the two women on either side of him, but his eyes would linger on Maria.

Then he decided that Maria should have a portrait to herself and he summoned Gainsborough to Lulworth.

When the artist arrived he was delighted by the beauty of the sitter but a little surprised that she wore her hair in its natural state. He commented on this.

"Madam, the ladies of the Court wear wigs or powder their hair."

"Do they indeed, Mr. Gainsborough?" reported Maria. "I do not."

Mr. Gainsborough could not hide his dismay, for this portrait would not look like those which he was accustomed to painting. It was clear that he wished his sitter would make some concession to fashion.

Maria had spirit, her husband was not displeased to note. He liked to see a little fire in his goddess; she quite clearly had not taken to Mr. Gainsborough; but he was surprised when after the first sitting she came to him, her eyes flashing with an indignation he had never seen before.

"Would you believe it, Edward, that man has given me a grey wig!"

Edward went lo sec the portrait and it was true that Gainsborough had sketched in her curly hair with grey impaste.

The next day, however, Maria told Mr. Gainsborough that she had no intention of giving him another sitting. The painter shrugged his shoulders; he would be paid for what he had done and there were many people more important than Mrs. Weld of Lulworth who were asking for his services.

"Why," said Mr. Weld, as the artist drove away from the castle, "what a determined young person you are to be sure!"

Maria laughed. "Was I right, Edward, in thinking that you wished for a portrait of your devoted wife?"

"You were indeed."

"Well, I was determined that you should have that or nothing. Do you imagine I wished Mr. Gainsborough to present you with some Court beauty who bore no resemblance to her whom you have honoured with your name."

Edward smiled fondly.

"We'll find an artist who will give me exactly what I want— which is my own Maria."

Edward Weld was forty-five—not a great age certainly, but since he did not enjoy good health it occurred to him that the time had come for him to make sure that in the event of his death Maria would inherit all he had, for if he did not make a new will the castle and everything he possessed would go to his brother Thomas.

He therefore took the first opportunity of going to see his lawyers and instructing them to draft a new will which was to be brought to the castle at the earliest opportunity.

This was done and delivered at the castle for his signature. He could not resist telling Maria what he had done, so he sent one of the servants to her room and asked her to come to him in the library.

She came in a riding habit of a most elegant cut, for another thing Maria had learned in France was how to dress to advantage, and as ever Edward was deeply conscious of her beauty.

"Ah, my love, how delightful you look."

"Such a lovely morning, Edward. I have come to insist that you come riding with me."

"It will give me great pleasure. But first I have something to show you. I have made a new will."

She looked alarmed and he laughed at her. "I am not going to die, dearest Maria, simply because I make a will."

"I hate talk of wills."

"Bless you. But these things have to be. This will be signed and put away and then we will talk of it no more and I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that should anything happen to me, my Maria is comfortably settled."

"You are so good to me, dear Edward."

He smiled at her fondly and she sat down while he read the contents of the will to her. Apart from a few legacies everything was for her.

"Now," he said. "The witnesses have to sign. We will get this settled immediately."

"But then it will be too late to ride. Have you forgotten that the Framptons are coming over from Moreton. There is just time to ride if you have to change. The will can be signed after the Framptons' visit."

Ever ready to please her he put the will into his bureau, locked it and went to change into his riding clothes.

It was a lovely morning. Galloping across the fields, walking their horses close to the sea, they talked of the Framptons and other friends and new furnishings Maria had decided on for certain rooms in the castle.

The time passed quickly and soon Maria was reminding him that they must return to the castle if they were to change in time to greet the Framptons.

As they cantered across the park surrounding the castle Edward's horse stumbled over a molehill and he was thrown right out of the saddle. He lay still on the grass while the horse cantered back to the stables. Maria hastily dismounted. "Edward," she cried. "Oh ... my dearest..." Edward opened his eyes.

"Thank God," she cried. "Edward, I am going to get help ... Just lie still ... and wait."

Edward was apparently uninjured by the fall but his doctors advised him to remain in bed for a week or so. The incident had been a great shock to him, they said.

Maria proved herself to have another excellent quality: she was a good nurse. A week passed and Edward did not recover. No bones were broken, but it was certain that the fall had had an adverse effect. He seemed to have aged considerably and although he was at peace while Maria was at his bedside his memory seemed to be failing.

Two weeks passed. The doctors shook their heads. They did not understand his condition. The fall had not appeared to be serious and yet after it he changed considerably.

"Good nursing is what he needs" they told Maria. "But keep him quiet for a little longer."

Maria rarely left the sick room; but she noticed that each day her husband was growing more feeble.

And one morning when she went into his room and spoke to him he did not answer.

She went close to the bed and stared at him. One glance was enough to show her that she was a widow.