guessed that the Regent would have left London for Brighton and the leaders of Society would have followed him.
Therefore, the Earl of Chartwood had, like most of his friends, moved from his town house to his country Estate.
There was no doubt that his arrival would result in the same excitement in Lindchester. The gossips would be waiting for each tit-bit of scandal that they could repeat and re-repeat to each other over the tea-tables.
Pandora knew it would hurt her because in disparaging the Earl she felt as if they also disparaged the name that had been her mother’s.
The Chart family had been playing their part in the history of England for centuries.
There had been Charts who had been Royalists at the time of Charles I, Charts who had fought with the Duke of Marlborough at Blenheim, Charts who had played their part in India and in other parts of the world.
It was to Pandora as if their blood in her cried out against the new Earl being subjected to the slings and arrows of the petty, unimportant little people of Lindchester, who really delighted in being in a position to defame him.
“I wonder what he is really like?” she said to herself.
Then suddenly an idea came to her, an idea so fantastic that for a moment she almost laughed as she thought of it.
And yet quite clearly she could hear her aunt saying in this very room,
“The Earl entertains nothing but doxies and play actresses. No decent man would be seen in the company of such creatures!”
No decent man . . .
The words seemed to burn themselves into Pandora’s mind, and suddenly it seemed to her as if here was a way out, here was a way of escape.
She walked to the window and stood looking with unseeing eyes at the trimmed garden, so neat with its flower-beds and clipped yews that she almost felt there was something unnatural about it.
She had a sudden vision of the green velvet lawns at Chart, of the herb-garden enclosed by its Elizabethan walls, of the rose-garden fragrant and vivid with colour surrounding an ancient sun-dial.
She felt homesick for it in a manner that was almost a physical ache in her heart and in her mind.
Then, the same idea presented itself again to her so clearly, so precisely, that it was almost like looking at the pieces of a puzzle falling into place and the answer was there.
She sat down at her uncle’s desk, something she would never have dared to do if he had been at home, and wrote a letter on the thick vellum paper that was kept entirely for him.
Then, having folded it, she fastened it with a wafer and went upstairs to the small room she had been allotted on the second floor of the Palace.
She rang the bell for a maid and when one came she gave her instructions in a quiet, calm voice which almost surprised herself.
*
An hour later Pandora was driving away from the Palace in one of the carriages which she and her aunt used when they went calling at the houses in the vicinity of Lindchester.
The old coachman looked surprised when she directed him to where she wished to go, but he had been too long in the service of the Bishop to query any order he was given.
Pandora sitting back in the open carriage was conscious that a small trunk containing her clothes was strapped on behind.
They crossed the river by the ancient bridge which had first been built in Norman times.
Then they were in the open countryside with its green trees, fields ripening with corn, and beyond them woods which made excellent cover in the winter for those who hunted there.
Pandora had not been allowed to go hunting since coming to live with her uncle. One of her father’s horses had been kept for her to ride, but the rest had been sold.
She knew it was a concession to have even one, and her aunt’s most frequent threat when she was annoyed was to say that she would take away from her the privilege of being allowed to ride.
She could not help thinking with a slight smile of amusement that in driving to Chart she was obeying her uncle
Therefore, the Earl of Chartwood had, like most of his friends, moved from his town house to his country Estate.
There was no doubt that his arrival would result in the same excitement in Lindchester. The gossips would be waiting for each tit-bit of scandal that they could repeat and re-repeat to each other over the tea-tables.
Pandora knew it would hurt her because in disparaging the Earl she felt as if they also disparaged the name that had been her mother’s.
The Chart family had been playing their part in the history of England for centuries.
There had been Charts who had been Royalists at the time of Charles I, Charts who had fought with the Duke of Marlborough at Blenheim, Charts who had played their part in India and in other parts of the world.
It was to Pandora as if their blood in her cried out against the new Earl being subjected to the slings and arrows of the petty, unimportant little people of Lindchester, who really delighted in being in a position to defame him.
“I wonder what he is really like?” she said to herself.
Then suddenly an idea came to her, an idea so fantastic that for a moment she almost laughed as she thought of it.
And yet quite clearly she could hear her aunt saying in this very room,
“The Earl entertains nothing but doxies and play actresses. No decent man would be seen in the company of such creatures!”
No decent man . . .
The words seemed to burn themselves into Pandora’s mind, and suddenly it seemed to her as if here was a way out, here was a way of escape.
She walked to the window and stood looking with unseeing eyes at the trimmed garden, so neat with its flower-beds and clipped yews that she almost felt there was something unnatural about it.
She had a sudden vision of the green velvet lawns at Chart, of the herb-garden enclosed by its Elizabethan walls, of the rose-garden fragrant and vivid with colour surrounding an ancient sun-dial.
She felt homesick for it in a manner that was almost a physical ache in her heart and in her mind.
Then, the same idea presented itself again to her so clearly, so precisely, that it was almost like looking at the pieces of a puzzle falling into place and the answer was there.
She sat down at her uncle’s desk, something she would never have dared to do if he had been at home, and wrote a letter on the thick vellum paper that was kept entirely for him.
Then, having folded it, she fastened it with a wafer and went upstairs to the small room she had been allotted on the second floor of the Palace.
She rang the bell for a maid and when one came she gave her instructions in a quiet, calm voice which almost surprised herself.
*
An hour later Pandora was driving away from the Palace in one of the carriages which she and her aunt used when they went calling at the houses in the vicinity of Lindchester.
The old coachman looked surprised when she directed him to where she wished to go, but he had been too long in the service of the Bishop to query any order he was given.
Pandora sitting back in the open carriage was conscious that a small trunk containing her clothes was strapped on behind.
They crossed the river by the ancient bridge which had first been built in Norman times.
Then they were in the open countryside with its green trees, fields ripening with corn, and beyond them woods which made excellent cover in the winter for those who hunted there.
Pandora had not been allowed to go hunting since coming to live with her uncle. One of her father’s horses had been kept for her to ride, but the rest had been sold.
She knew it was a concession to have even one, and her aunt’s most frequent threat when she was annoyed was to say that she would take away from her the privilege of being allowed to ride.
She could not help thinking with a slight smile of amusement that in driving to Chart she was obeying her uncle
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