“Well, he is a very handsome young man by all accounts,” said Annabelle sympathetically.

Caroline looked surprised. Then a crease appeared between her brows. “And?” she asked suspiciously.

“And?” enquired Annabelle.

“Are you not going to say that Lord Deverish is handsomer, or that Able, for all his handsome face, is nothing but a gardener, and that I can do better; or that I am a foolish, obstinate, headstrong girl?”

“No. Why should I?” asked Annabelle.

“Because that is what everyone else says. They have lots of different reasons for complaining, but the moral of every story is that I must forget all about him.”

“If Able is your choice, then what business is it of mine?”

Caroline looked startled.

She really is very pretty, thought Annabelle, even with that open mouth and those widened eyes. With her lustrous dark hair and her entrancing green eyes, she is positively charming.

“I cannot understand it,” said Caroline, perplexed. “I was sure you would be just like Mama, and tell me it would not do. Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, in a different tone of voice, and her face took on a sympathetic expression. “Of course, I was forgetting. You had an unhappy love affair, too! Aunt Annabelle, I am so sorry,” she went on, stricken. “This must have awakened painful memories for you, and now I have added to your pain by distrusting you. But of course, with your history, I should have known that you would take my side.”

Annabelle refrained from pointing out that her own unhappy love affair had been nothing like Caroline’s infatuation, for she had come to know and love a man who had been suitable in every way. But she made allowances for her niece’s youth, and she did no more than give an exasperated smile.

Fortunately, Caroline construed her expression as one of sympathy.

“If only Mama and Papa could see it as you do.” Caroline patted the bed beside her and invited Annabelle to sit down. “But they keep telling me that I cannot marry Able because they say that, in a few weeks’ time, I will forget all about him. Which is absurd, because I will never forget about Able, not for as long as I live.”

“Which is exactly why you should come to Whitegates Manor with me,” said Annabelle. “It will prove to your parents that you are serious about Able, and that your feelings will not change. Only imagine, when you return here and you are still as much in love as ever, they will not be able to accuse you of inconstancy, but will be forced to admit the strength of your attachment.”

“So they will,” said Caroline, much struck. “And then they must give their consent to the marriage.”

Annabelle was just congratulating herself on her stratagems when Caroline cut short her rejoicing by reverting to a lachrymose manner. “But no, I cannot be away from Able for so long. It would be insupportable. In fact, it would kill me.”

“Ah, well, we cannot have that. I see now that I must go by myself,” said Annabelle, rising. “A pity, for I was hoping to teach you to drive. There is an excellent avenue at Whitegates Manor that would be perfect for the purpose; it is long and straight, and the surface is very good. But if you cannot leave Able then there is nothing more to be said.”

She had gone no more than halfway to the door when Caroline asked, “Teach me to drive?”

“Yes. I thought it might amuse you. I have two new horses. Have you seen them? Perfectly matched bays. And such high steppers, with such soft mouths. They are a treat.”

“And you would let me drive them?” asked Caroline, half rising from the bed in her eagerness.

“But of course. Every young woman should learn to drive.”

She almost laughed as she watched the emotions playing across Caroline’s face, but out of deference to her favourite niece’s feelings she remained straight-faced.

“Perhaps you are right,” said Caroline consideringly, as a desire to drive her aunt’s dashing curricle won out over her desire to swoon over the hapless Able. “If I go with you, it will prove to Mama and Papa, once and for all, that I am really in love.”

“Then make haste and finish dressing. The sooner we are away, the better.”

“Do you know, Aunt Annabelle, I think it is for the best, after all. I will be with you directly.”

Leaving her niece to ready herself, Annabelle went downstairs.

“Ah! She would not come. I did not expect it,” said Hetty, as Annabelle entered the drawing room alone. “It was good of you to try. Girls! Everyone says that boys are difficult to handle, but boys are nothing to girls. Thank goodness I have only the one, or my head would be full of grey hairs.”

“She will be down in a few minutes,” said Annabelle.

Hetty looked at her in amazement. “You do not mean that you have persuaded her? How did you manage it?”

“By telling her that a few weeks’ absence will prove to you that she is really in love — and by promising to teach her to drive.”

“Oh, thank goodness! We are to have a few weeks’ respite! And, of course, at the end of it, she will have forgotten all about Able, and be ready to think of someone more suitable instead. I cannot thank you enough. Now, sit down, my love, for you have a long drive before you. I do so wish you would hire a coachman, but I suppose it is too late now to persuade you to change your ways?”

“It is.”

“Then let me offer you some refreshment before you set out. You will take a cup of tea, and some seed cake?”

“No, thank you, Hetty. I must not keep the horses waiting. As soon as Caroline is down—Ah! Here she is.’

Caroline entered the room with a sunny smile. She was dressed in a green silk pelisse, which brought out the colour in her eyes, with matching gloves, and on her head was a splendid hat, topped by a dancing plume.

“I thought I told you that that hat was too dashing for a girl of your age!” exclaimed Hetty in vexation when she saw it. “What have you done with the straw bonnet?”

“Oh, that,” said Caroline nonchalantly. “I decided it did not suit me after all, and so I returned it when I went into town with Charlotte. The only other hat that fitted me was this one.”

“I think it is time for us to leave,” said Annabelle diplomatically.

And before Hetty could react, she swept Caroline out of the house.

“It was very wrong of you to buy that hat against your mother’s express wishes,” she said, as they went down the steps.

“Mama never expressed a wish either way, she simply said it was too dashing for a girl of my age, but as I was then only sixteen years old, and as I am now seventeen, of course that changes things.”

“Ah,” said Annabelle, smiling at Caroline’s youthful logic — or should it be youthful impudence? “Of course!”

They waited for the curricle to return from the end of the street, where the tiger had been walking the horses, and then they climbed in.

“What—?” asked Annabelle in surprise, for a portmanteau and a hatbox had been crammed into the carriage. “Did your mama not send your boxes on?”

“Yes, she sent them on yesterday with my maid. But I forgot to put a few things in, and so I packed a box this morning and had the footman carry it downstairs,” said Caroline airily.

“And no doubt the ‘few things’ you forgot are dresses of which your mama would not approve.”

“There is nothing wrong with them, I do assure you. They are both of them quite adorable.”

“I am sure they are. But are they respectable?”

“They are respectable enough for a vicar’s daughter,” replied Caroline. “But they happen to be in various colours, and Mama is so fussy about me wearing white. I cannot think why. It does not suit me, and, anyway, young ladies no longer wear exclusively white. That fashion went out when Mama was a girl.”

“As long ago as that?” enquired Annabelle.

“Are you laughing at me?” asked Caroline suspiciously.

“Not at all.”

They seated themselves in the carriage. Annabelle took the reins, and then they were off.

Caroline revelled in the admiring glances that were directed towards them as they set out, though she was sensible enough to realize that they were directed towards Annabelle rather than herself, and she dreamed of the day when she would be the one holding the reins. What a figure she would cut as she dashed through the streets!

“How did you learn to drive?” asked Caroline. “Did your papa teach you?”

“No,” said Annabelle. “It was … someone else.”

Her mind flew back to the day when Daniel had said to her, “It is about time you learned to handle the reins.” And she remembered him putting them in her hands, then putting one arm around her so that he could show her how to hold them properly, and the way it made her feel, with his hands around hers and his breath on her cheek and …

“Aunt Annabelle!”

Caroline’s cry brought her back to the present just in time, as a brewer’s cart rolled out from a side road and she had to swerve in order to avoid it. The carriage behind her was not so lucky, and the sound of heated cries and barrels rolling on to the road followed them as they headed out to the country.

Green fields took the place of crowded streets. The air was fresh here, without the smell of fish or pies or a hundred other things, savoury and unsavoury, which perfumed the London streets. Annabelle breathed in deeply. It was good to be alive.

“I am looking forward to the party,” she said.

“But I am not. It will be very boring,” said Caroline with a yawn. “House parties always are.”

“There might be some interesting people there,” said Annabelle.

“And there might not.”