Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
As the wayfarer traverses these isolated Yorkshire valleys, he is oftentimes struck by the lucky survival of diverse quaint fancies that the common folk persist in holding true. One charming legend from Fraedale in the High Pennines relates that a stranger’s arrival during Advent signals a year of great good fortune ahead. Strangers being something of a rarity in these wild and remote corners of the realm, the good luck isn’t as widespread as perhaps it might prove in gentler parts of the country. So a traveler at Christmas always receives a warm welcome, which given the generally inhospitable nature of the landscape, especially in the harsh winters, he may very well need.
Travels Through the Kingdom of Britain (1787) by the Rev. Dr. Hector Chudleigh Quayle, M.A., D.D. (Oxon)
Prologue
Jesus College, Oxford, 1st December 1821
As a highly respected expert on ancient Athenian politics, Dr. Thomas Black devoted the bulk of his time to reading.
However the letter holding his attention, as he sat at his desk amidst the dusty jumble of his college rooms, didn’t date from the 5th century BC, but from last Thursday. Which was a pity. He’d much prefer to peruse a document from a couple of thousand years ago.
What did he know of the modern world? And frankly, what did he care?
He sighed, not for the first time, and aimed a longing glance at the thick report that had arrived from Dr. Albert this morning. Albert was a lucky dog, excavating in Greece for the entire winter. How Dr. Black itched to learn more of his recent discoveries.
But nobody could say that Thomas Black was completely lost to his duty.
Besides, he still harbored a soft spot for Kitty Hale. Although he’d spent the last thirty years thanking his Maker that, when he and his best friend pursued the lovely Miss Katherine Summers during that long ago London season, she’d chosen Cedric instead of him. He really wasn’t cut out to be a husband.
Now Kitty wrote to embroil him in a family matter, wanting him to interfere in her son’s life. Although Dr. Black supposed that given the young man in question was his godson, she had some right to enlist his assistance.
His eye fell once more on the offending lines.
Thomas, I’m at my wits’ end, and I would dearly love your help if you’re able to give it.
Joss is doing well in his career—you’ve probably heard of his success as an architect. Everyone in society is clamoring for him to rebuild their old houses in the fashionable gothic style.
Thomas vaguely recalled Kitty’s letter last Christmas. There had been something in that about his godson making a splash in the world. Or at least he thought so. He always got the news about the children mixed up. With seven Hale offspring to sort out in his mind, a lot of Kitty’s tattle went over his head. He hadn’t seen any of the family in the last twenty years, although they always invited him to visit for the Festive Season.
He went back to reading the letter.
He needs to find a nice girl and settle down. He’s approaching thirty and more than ready to move into the next stage of his life.
Dr. Black scowled at the paragraph. Reading between the lines, as a scholar was wont to do, those words implied that Kitty thought her former suitor, now a confirmed bachelor, was stuck in his childhood, too. What cheek.
But I’ve introduced him to every eligible girl in Sussex, and he won’t have a bar of any of them. When he’s in London, he just runs around with unsuitable women.
That raised a reminiscent smile. Dr. Black recalled the escapades of his youth well enough to understand the appeal of unsuitable women. He hadn’t exactly been a devil for the ladies, but he hadn’t been dead either.
Now I turn to you as his godfather. I realize you lead a retired life, but surely there’s some charming girl you know, the daughter of a colleague or a relative, who might suit Joss.
He’s got a good heart, although his manners aren’t the most polished. And he’s clever. So I need a girl outside the normal run. Which is one of the reasons I thought of you. I imagine Oxford is overflowing with clever women. All those fusty old dons you know must surely have a niece or a sister with brains.
Fusty old dons? He hoped she wasn’t including him in that description.
Or perhaps someone you worked with in the early days ended up leaving college to marry and now has an attractive daughter. Can you think of a lady who won’t bore Joss silly within the first ten minutes? If so, could you arrange for him to meet her?