They took a circuit of the drive from the house past the stables to the gatehouse, and then back to the manor, and then repeated that several times. Finally, Mr. Hatton took the reins again himself and steered the curricle back towards the house. Julia was profuse in her thanks, and was about to get down from the carriage when he asked her to wait for a moment.

After he had dismissed the footman, he said, “Could I ask you, Miss Maitland, whether your mother is much like her sister, your aunt Mrs. Harrison?”

She looked at him for a few moments. “No, not very much. Of course, it is much easier to be good-humoured and generous with your time when you have plenty of money and no children to worry about, as is the case with my aunt. She is older than my mother, and they are two very different people. I am told that I am much more like my father than Mama. Harriet, my youngest sister, is good fun, and you might find her the most like my aunt of the three of us. It is Sophie, my middle sister, who is more like my mother.”

He looked at her without replying for some moments, so she added, “Why do you ask?”

“Only that I have noticed that you seemed more at ease in Bath, and happily here also, than you did in Derbyshire.”

“There are many reasons for that, sir,” she said. “It has been so much easier to relax here in the West Country, whereas there have been so many more pressures on me lately back at home.”

He nodded, then helped her down from the curricle, and they entered the house.

Later that evening, Julia helped her aunt to compose a reply to Mama’s letter, which said enough, but not too much, about what they might be currently doing. By mutual consent, her aunt did not mention the accident to her ankle—only that Julia was enjoying meeting all kinds of people in the locality. This might, she thought, be some exaggeration, but it should divert Mama from any ideas of calling her back home when she would much rather stay where she was.

“You once mentioned Holkham in Norfolk, Mr. Coke’s house and estate,” said Mr. Hatton the following morning. “Have you been there yourself, Miss Maitland?”

“No, I have read about it, but it was my father’s factor who went there, at my brother David’s suggestion. He came back with so many ideas for improvements to my family’s property. As it turned out, with the failure of the bank in Derby, the opportunity to make quite simple changes to the way our land is being used has meant that the income is already increasing from my father’s estate. That has been most useful at a time when the money coming from other sources has been reduced.” Then she saw his expression. “You are surprised that I know about such things?”

“No—only that any young lady should be interested,” he said, rather shamefaced. “I cannot imagine that my mother would have been the same.”

“Was she a practical person, Mr. Hatton?”

“In housekeeping, and in house decoration, yes, but she did not have a great curiosity about money or anything new. Rather like Jack—I am sure that you have not forgotten that from your visit to Norton Place!”

“Would I have liked her?”

He thought for a few moments. “In some ways, yes—she loved books, but she was also rather reclusive and shy. That led some people to say that she had a cold manner. Everyone was very surprised, I’ve been told, when she decided that she wanted to marry my father, for she had far grander suitors. But she recognised in my father a kindness and a generosity of manner lacking in most of the others.”

“I liked your father very much,” said Julia, “but he said very little to me about your mother, although of course he does not know me very well.”

“He was absolutely devastated when she died,” said Mr. Hatton. “As you know, I came back from Spain after she passed away, and I have never seen him so distraught. He really did not know what to do with himself. To be fair to Jack, my brother, he had done his best to console him, and it was a comfort to both of them when I returned home.”

“Did your father have any problems persuading your mother’s relations to allow her to marry him?”

“Her family was not keen on the idea at all. The match did not meet their expectations for the daughter of a baronet, but my father’s wealth, and her total determination, finally wore them down. You would approve of that, I would guess?”

Julia gave a wide smile. “But of course, Mr. Hatton!”

She wondered why he paused before replying, but that smile always distracted him, and made his heart skip a beat.

“I hope that you will be impressed,” he said, “if I tell you that I have written to Mr. Coke in Norfolk to ask if I may attend the next sheep-shearing and the annual gathering at Holkham, and I plan to take Mr. Whitaker with me. But that will not be for a few months. So will you come with me now to meet him, and explain a little of what he might learn there?”

She readily agreed, and they walked together down the drive and then along a side turning towards the group of farm buildings. There, inside the cattle shed, they found the factor busy with two farmhands to help him, forking over the hay and penning the animals at one end of the shed whilst they did so.

After the introductions, Mr. Hatton said to Mr. Whitaker, “Miss Maitland has some knowledge of the practices used by Mr. Coke at Holkham Hall, John. They are already being employed on her father’s land at Banford Hall in Derbyshire.”

Julia then explained how her father had changed the type of cattle that he kept on the estate, and that he used oil cake and roots to feed them.

“He has also introduced wheat as a crop where the land is suitable, drilling the ground rather than scattering the seed by hand. That seems to give a much higher yield than the rye grown previously, and he makes much greater use of manure and bones as fertilisers. I have been told that these methods of managing the estate have greatly increased the yields.”

“Rather a lot to remember, John,” said Mr. Hatton, “but I am told that seeing the practices in action in Norfolk is the best way of understanding it all.”

Mr. Whitaker looked very interested, and told Julia that he would be glad to learn more. He then showed her around the farm buildings and explained the areas where repairs and improvements were being considered.

“Where do you and your family live, Mr. Whitaker? We met your wife at the school yesterday, teaching the children,” said Julia.

“Our house is further south from here, Miss Maitland, closer to the village and not far from the road towards the sea.”

“How old is it, Mr. Whitaker? Is it the same age as Morancourt?”

Mr. Hatton suddenly looked apologetic. “Mr. Whitaker, I should have asked you before whether your house needs any attention?”

“It’s an old place, sir. We like it as it is,” he replied.

I wonder if his wife agrees that the house does not need attention, thought Julia. If Morancourt needs renovating, surely the servants’ homes do as well?

“Would you object,” said Julia, “if we call in to see your wife one day?”

“No, of course not, Miss Maitland, if you would like to do that. The school is open only in the mornings, so that the children can help their parents on the land in the later part of the day. So my wife gets home at about one o’clock.”

On the way back, Julia asked her host about his opinion of Mr. Whitaker.

“I am not sure. It may be difficult for him to have someone taking a more active interest at such short notice.”

“You have told me before that some people don’t like change. Perhaps his attitude will improve?”

“Don’t mistake me—he is not being rude or surly in his manner. There is just something that I cannot put my finger on for the moment.”

Julia considered this. “I would like to go with you and visit their house soon, if you agree?”

He indicated his assent to this idea, and they walked back to the house to find how Aunt Lucy was progressing. Much to their amusement, they found that Mrs. Jones had brought her recipe book from the kitchen and was writing down several ideas suggested by Aunt Lucy for the menus later that week.

“Now, Mrs. Jones, have you a recipe for syllabub? My cook in Bath has the most excellent means of making that.”

Mrs. Jones looked suitably impressed, and sent Martha to find more pages to insert in her book to write on.

“Have you told Mrs. Jones about the recipe for Derbyshire pudding, Aunt Lucy?” asked Julia innocently.

Aunt Lucy looked puzzled, and then realised that her niece was hoaxing her. “Julia, you wicked minx! Mr. Hatton, what she means is that she and her sisters love any dessert that is sweet, and especially anything containing lemons.”

“Lemons?” he said. “I had some desserts in Spain, when we had time to dine in the towns, that were very enjoyable. But I am afraid that I did not ask the ingredients, though I could guess if you wish.”

Thus ensued an entertaining half hour during which Mr. Hatton described the desserts that he remembered, their appearance and taste, and Mrs. Jones and Aunt Lucy made notes, with the intention of experimenting with the recipes once Julia’s aunt was more recovered.

“Can we get lemons in Dorset?” said Julia innocently, “I thought perhaps that in these wild country parts—”

Mr. Hatton laughed out loud, for he knew that she was teasing him.

“For that, Miss Maitland, I should drag you to either Beaminster or Bridport, and show you how well provisioned are many of the shops in the towns in this locality. There are several very wealthy farmers, as well as some great estates, within a short drive of here, you know. You will find that the local grocers and provisions shop, Messrs. Pines in Beaminster, has a range of goods to rival that in the London premises of Messrs. Fortnum and Mason in Piccadilly.”