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“Mixin’ wit’ the quality, are ye? And look where ‘at's got you afore!” He swept a beefy hand toward his children, who cowered away from him. “A passel of brats, and no bread for the table. That's for quality,” he said, and spat upon the floor.

I deemed it wise at this juncture to depart, but paused at the hut's jamb long enough to seek Jenny Barlow's eye. “If you should need me, Mrs. Barlow,” I said, “simply ask the way to Miss Austen.”

I RETURNED ALONG THE SNOWY LANE IN SOME PERTURBATION, and with the leisure of three miles to give it full compass. That the late Lord Scargrave had marred the young girl's life in some way, and that her husband still harboured a bitter grudge, was evident. I considered it no less likely that her sister Rosie was encompassed in Jenny Barlow's cares. How the harm had been effected remained a mystery; tho’ I was just enough apprised of the ways of the world to think it possible the Earl had forced his attentions upon his milkmaid. There are precedents in history for it enough. I must wait, however, for the bestowing of Jenny's confidence; given time and further thought, the girl may resolve to seek me out, and unburden herself willingly.

I was but a few hundred yards from the paddock where I had ridden Lady Bess the previous afternoon; and at a nicker from the fence, I turned and saw her lovely chestnut nose stretched towards me appealingly.

“I have no sugar; Bess,” I warned as I approached, “nor yet a piece of apple. But if you like, I shall rub your nose, and promise to visit on the morrow.”

The mare bent her nostrils to my gloved hand, and I stood there some moments, scratching the short hairs between her ears and along the bridge of her face, marvelling at the liquid depths of her enormous eyes. It was then that a movement beyond her withers surprised me; I looked up, and caught sight of a bonneted head ducking into a shed to the left of the far paddock gate, on the nether side of the wintry field from where I stood. The lady's pelisse was of a rich cherry, frogged round with black braid, and of a style to be worn by only one person—Fanny Delahoussaye! Perhaps she had come to ride, the better to win the Lieutenant's heart.

Lady Bess blew out a gusty breath, impatient for attention, and at that moment Fanny reappeared, unconscious of my presence, and slipped back through the gate towards the house. Her entire aspect declared her errand a furtive one.

There was no gate in the fence before me—just the one, well around the field. I looked about to see that I was unobserved, swiftly mounted the lower rail, and swung myself, skirts and all, over the fence to stand beside a surprised Lady Bess. Then I set off across the snow-crusted grass, holding my hem above my ankles, the horse trotting alongside in evident enjoyment of the lark.

It was a small outbuilding, no more than a storage shed for hay, really, and possessed of nothing in itself that might appeal to Fanny Delahoussaye. I bent my head to peer inside, and saw immediately what she had left—a small leather pouch tied with a string. I picked it up, and from the weight and jingle knew the purse to contain a quantity of coins.

Fanny, leaving money for an unknown? How very singular. She was not the sort to engage in eccentric philanthropy, of an anonymous kind; more the reverse. Was this a payment for services—of a sort better unpublished in the light of day? There was no note, no sign of the intended recipient; and I did not like to open the pouch itself. I set it back upon the straw in some perplexity. It must remain another mystery, to be resolved another day.

UPON REGAINING THE GREAT HOUSE, I WAS CAUGHT UP in a whirl of maids and footmen toing and froing; a strange carriage was at the door, with a coat of arms upon it, and baggage was being stowed behind I entered the house in haste, fumbling at the strings of my bonnet, and was in time to see Isobel exiting the Earl's study.

I was not, however, allowed to rejoice in her presence, fully dressed in her sombre widow's weeds