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Leonora hurried into her best gown of cornflower-blue silk, embellished by herself with tiny cream silk roses round the neck and hem.

Milly was the general housemaid but could come to her aid as a lady’s maid when needed, to lace or button clothes and lend a hand with Leonora’s luxuriant hair.

In the country, Leonora felt she did not have to concern herself with high sartorial standards, fortunate indeed given her natural character and lack of sophisticated help to call on.

She dashed down the stairs just as Richard Fopling was being shown into the house.

He was a tall man like his father, but where Sir Roderick was broad, red-faced and blustery, his curate son was willowy and pale; where the father had a booming voice full of opinion, his son was soft-spoken and poetic in his sensibilities.

He looked up, surprised, as Leonora, a vision in blue, welcomed him, a trifle breathless in her haste.

‘Mr Fopling, I’m glad you have managed to join us.’

‘So am I, Miss Appleby. My apologies for my lateness.’ They walked into the drawing room where the Reverend and Mrs Mildmay stood looking out on the garden and Charlotte tinkled on the piano-forte in the middle of the room.

‘I do apologise for not being here to welcome you.’ Leonora took Sarah Mildmay’s hand.

The Mildmays were in their middle years, both shorter and plainer than Charlotte, the beauty who now towered over them with her own slender grace.

Mrs Mildmay liked to say it was as if a pair of mallards had raised a swan and as she spoke, her genial face twinkled with gratitude – as if she still did not believe her good fortune.

Charlotte stood up and walked across from the piano-forte.

‘Oh, Leonora, you look very well!’ she said, beaming with admiration.

Leonora Appleby was striking with her large expressive eyes, flecked it seemed with gold, and her lively face, full of intelligence and humour.

‘Your hair looks different. How have you arranged it?’

Leonora laughed and then dropped her voice. ‘Oh, it’s probably still stiffened with pondweed from our swim.’

They both looked across at Mr Fopling in conversation with Nanny P who had poured him some whisky to fortify him.

Mrs Priddy knew everyone in the village, was called Nanny P or Mrs P by most, and was indulgent of them all.

The bad boys were merely expressing their animal spirits and needed some useful employment; she was not shy of asking them to clean the village pond of blanket weed, or collect the windfalls from the orchard and offer them to the elderly.

Sulky girls she took under her wing and taught to quilt or collect wildflowers from the verges to press and set in sketchbooks.

The adults whom she had known as children accepted that her opinion carried authority.

In her small world, she reigned supreme.

With the continued absence of the heir, Leonora visited the kitchen to soothe Cook who was growing concerned for her pièce de résistance , a roast crown of beef.

This she withdrew from the enormous oven and wrapped in cloths to keep warm.

The fish soup would not spoil, pulled to one side on the range, and the celery, cauliflower and spinach from the walled garden were all washed and chopped and in their pots, ready to be boiled when Cook was alerted that the last guest had arrived.

As she dashed back up the kitchen stairs, Leonora heard the crunch of wheels on the cobbled drive and walked quickly into the hall to open the door herself.

A vision of fashionable tailoring emerged from the smart blue coach, but as George Lockwood straightened up, she was amazed to see just how tall and broad he was.

His large face and rosy cheeks would have looked more at home above a good, worsted jacket and buckskin breeches, but he was dressed in a close-fitting coat of finest inky-blue broadcloth and dark pantaloons with mirror-bright hessian boots.

His expression was guarded as he walked into the porch.

Leonora was disconcerted by Mr Lockwood’s dandy dress, in incongruous contrast with his broad bluff face and ox-like physique.

Such finely accoutred metropolitan men were rare and intriguing sights in the vicinity of Hasterleigh.

She came forward to greet him. ‘Mr Lockwood, welcome to the Manor. I am Leonora Appleby.’

It was her visitor’s turn to look disconcerted. ‘Why, Miss Appleby! We are distantly related, are we not?’ He took her hand and bowed. ‘My apologies for being later than I hoped.’

She smiled. ‘I’ll ask Milly to show you to your room. Your valet can fit in with my servants.’ A young man had struggled in with a smart leather trunk and Leonora called for Jack Clegg to help him transport it up the stairs. Milly led the way to the main guest bedroom at the back of the house.

When Leonora finally re-entered the drawing room, everyone turned curious faces to meet hers. Charlotte’s question was on everyone’s mind. ‘Well, what’s Mr Lockwood like?’

‘He’s very well-dressed.’ Then with a mischievous laugh, she added, ‘And he’s enormous! The tallest, broadest man I’ve ever seen.’

Charlotte’s eyes were wide. ‘Even taller than that gamekeeper at the Rokeby estate?’

‘Yes, by a good measure.’

Mrs Mildmay gasped and took Charlotte’s arm. ‘My dear, when were you ever in the way of Diggory Shrubb? He only ever concerns himself with poachers.’

The young woman met Leonora’s eyes before responding airily, ‘Oh, Mama Mildmay, Leonora and I sometimes cut through the park at the Abbey on our walks.’

‘Well, my dear, no longer can you wander at will. The new Earl is back from the wars and not in a cheery mood, it would seem.’

‘He’s already asked Leonora to tune his piano-forte,’ Charlotte said with a giggle.

Mrs Mildmay grasped her arm again and in a hushed voice exclaimed, ‘No young woman is safe in Rokeby Abbey! The parties his father used to have! His sons were exposed to them too. Carriages full of disreputables would arrive from London. The profligacy went on for days. You would not have believed the servants’ tales! ’

Leonora intervened. ‘Do not fear, the new Earl seems to be far from sociable. In fact, he will be absent all the while I am there.’ With this, she seemed to soothe some of Sarah Mildmay’s anxieties.

At the sight of George Lockwood in the doorway, Leonora crossed the room to introduce him to the assembled guests, and at last they could process into the dining room where Cook’s special meal awaited.

Leonora had decided it would be gracious to seat George Lockwood at the head of the table, but he declined.

‘This is still your home, Miss Appleby.’ He sat instead at her right hand with Mrs Mildmay beside him, and opposite Mr Fopling and Charlotte Blythe.

Mrs Priddy and Reverend Mildmay took their places at the foot of the table.

Everyone’s eyes were on the new heir as he tucked into the beef.

He met their eyes and smiled. ‘I think it will interest you all that I won’t be taking possession of Hasterleigh Manor in the immediate future. I hope Miss Appleby will remain here at least until the summer.’

Charlotte could not contain her delight. She clapped her hands together. ‘Oh, I’m so glad.’ She turned to address the hostess with a question in her bright eyes. ‘That means things can go on as usual?’

Leonora was more composed at the news and turned to Mr Lockwood with her own question. ‘So do you wish me to continue overseeing the estate?’

‘I would wish it to carry on as before, with you and your father’s bailiff in charge. If that suits you, Miss Appleby?’

She nodded, a small bubble of happiness rising in her chest.

He continued, ‘We’ll formalise the arrangement while I’m here. You see, I’m busy with my father’s estate in Oxfordshire. It’s in a sorry state. And my stepfather insists I spend the Season in Town with him.’ His face fell.

Mrs Mildmay asked him, her voice full of concern, ‘Do you not care for London, sir?’

‘I don’t enjoy frittering my time with gaming and dancing and would much prefer country life.

But first I have to find myself a wife.’ George Lockwood gave a rueful smile.

His bluff, honest way of speaking made Mrs Mildmay’s eyes widen in surprise.

He then turned back to Leonora, a certain tightness constraining his features.

‘I’m looking forward to seeing over your father’s estate.

I’m impressed by how productive it appears to be from the figures your bailiff, Fleming, has sent me.

’ His candid blue eyes gazed into hers and she realised with relief he was not going to be the ogre she had feared.

There were other women around the table coming to similarly favourable conclusions about him.

Mrs Priddy was listening to the Reverend’s chatter about his parishioners, all of whom she knew or had helped bring into the world, but her attention was half on the top end of the table where her beloved Leonora sat with this new man to enter their world.

He was rich and nice-looking enough, big and strong, a perfect country gentleman, but even better husband material.

Mrs Mildmay also approved of a man who was tired of London and preferred the country life.

How much she wanted to see her beautiful foster daughter Charlotte happily settled.

She looked sideways at George Lockwood. It was not in her nature to aim high, let alone scheme to achieve her ends, but she thought what a perfect son-in-law this man would make.

Pity he was quite so tall – she and the Reverend were like pygmies beside him, but Mrs Mildmay was prepared to overlook that handicap given the kindness in his eyes and the largeness of his fortune.