“They took some silver too.”

“Oh, that was to make it seem like an ordinary robbery. It was what was in my study that they came to get. It is better that the servants should think that was the case. We don’t want them to talk.”

My mother nodded.

“I shall want to leave in an hour,” said Dickon.

He with Jonathan and my mother left for London. The servants could talk of nothing for days but the effrontery of the people who had called themselves Cardew.

To us who knew that there was some ulterior motive for the robbery, the incident seemed very sinister. I wondered more than ever about Dickon’s and Jonathan’s affairs. It had been clear to me for a long time that they were not merely bankers; they were engaged in some secret diplomatic work and of course in such times as ours such work must become increasingly important.

They did live dangerously. Both Dickon and Jonathan were men who knew how to take care of themselves, but I guessed that the work they did made them ruthless, and of course, those who worked against them would be equally so.

I hoped Dickon would not run into danger. I trembled to think of what my mother would do if anything happened to him.

And Jonathan? I tried not to think of him; but he did intrude often into my thoughts.

For a few weeks no subject was discussed in the servants’ quarters but the audacious burglary at Eversleigh, and it was talked of with equal interest in the neighbourhood I was sure.

Dickon, back at Eversleigh, had decreed that there should be no mention of important papers having been taken and that the impression should be given that it was only valuable silver which had been stolen.

“I believe there is an old proverb which says that it is too late to shut the stable door after the horse has been stolen,” I said.

“Quite right,” answered my mother. “But I intend that no more horses shall be stolen.”

“Is Dickon still very upset?”

“Yes, indeed he is. I do wish he were not so involved. These people are dangerous, capable of anything. It worries me… but this is Dickon’s life. He always has taken risks, and I suppose he always will. Jonathan is the same. I am so glad you chose David. I married two adventurers.”

“And you were happy.”

“My first husband went to America to fight and died there. I worry a lot about Dickon. But it was worth it. I wouldn’t have him otherwise.”

But in due course the burglary became a nine-days’ wonder and the excitement shifted to Jonathan’s and Millicent’s wedding.

Another wedding was to take place in April—that of the Prince of Wales to the Princess Caroline of Brunswick.

“I thought he was married to Maria Fitzherbert,” I said.

“So he was,” replied David, “but the marriage was not considered legal.”

“Do you remember we saw them once at the theatre? I thought they looked so handsome and so fond of each other.”

“Times change, Claudine.”

“And they are no longer in love.”

“They say he greatly resents having to marry Princess Caroline, and would not if he could avoid it.”

“Poor kings, poor princes.”

“How lucky we are!” said David. “We should always remember that, Claudine. We should never let anything spoil what we have.”

“We must not… ever,” I said fervently.

There were to be celebrations for the royal wedding and my mother suggested that we go to London to join in them.

“We could do our shopping during the visit. We shall both need new gowns for Jonathan’s wedding.”

I said that would be wonderful and we could feel quite safe leaving the babies in the charge of Grace Soper, who was proving herself to be an excellent nurse.

“Fashions have changed so much in the last years,” went on my mother. “Everything seems to be so much simpler. I suppose it is something to do with France, as the fashions have always started there. This new simplicity has grown out of the revolution. I’m glad we’re rid of those hooped petticoats. They were so restricting. I rather like those high-waisted gowns, don’t you?”

I said yes, but did she think Molly Blackett could do them justice?

“Molly’s a good dressmaker. She’ll try. I don’t think she likes the new simplicity though. It makes much less work for her, I suppose, and it is not so easy to hide the little flaws. I thought if we got the material now there would be plenty of time for her to make them up before the wedding. We shall need some lace for fichus and perhaps shawls. The low-cut shoulders can be a little chilly. So you see, we shall have plenty of shopping to do…”

“I’ll look forward to it,” I said.

“We’ll go in good time. The royal wedding is on the eighth. If we arrived on the fifth we could get the shopping done first. I doubt the shops will be open on that day. Shall we try that?”

I said it would be excellent and as Jonathan and Dickon agreed to the dates, the four of us set out in the carriage. David said he would take the opportunity of going over to the Clavering estate—another of Dickon’s properties—as it was some time since he had been and another visit was due.

I always enjoyed London. I felt excitement grip me as I drove through those crowded streets. There were people everywhere bent on their own business, dashing around as though they were in a mighty hurry. I watched them all with pleasure—the hawkers, the ballad singers, the lavender women, the apple women, the watercress sellers—they were all there. I used to listen to their cries and was delighted to discover new ones like that of the lady with her paper of pins who stood on a corner singing in a high cracked voice:

Three rows a penny pins,

Short whites and middlings.

There was the Flying Pieman who ran from Covent Garden to Fleet Street between noon and four o’clock crying:

Who’s for a mutton or a Christmas pie

Buy, buy, buy

A piece for a penny,

while people stopped him for a piece of his meat pies or baked plum pudding.

Won’t you buy my sweet blooming lavender,

Sixteen branches one penny,

sang the lavender woman.

“Fine fritters, hot fine fritters,” cried out the woman who was frying batter on a tripod over a fire set on bricks.

I loved to hear the bell of the muffin man as he wandered through the streets, performing an admirable balancing feat as he carried his basket on his head.

Every time I came to London I tried to discover a new trader and I invariably did.

I enjoyed watching the carriages trundling through the streets—hackney coaches and private carriages, the phaetons, barouches, calashes—and of course the highly polished mail coaches the colour of claret, drawn by four splendid-looking horses driven by the coachman in his box coat fastened by enormous buttons of mother-of-pearl, in his big-brimmed hat looking very powerful and able to deal with any hazard of the road.

And the shops! How I revelled in the shops! We were treated with such respect, and chairs were found for us that we might rest while we studied the bales of material which were brought for our inspection.

Then there were the theatres. The opera houses in the Haymarket and Drury Lane and Covent Garden as well as the pleasure gardens, which were all a delight.

We saw little of Dickon and Jonathan. They were always on business somewhere. I wondered a great deal about Jonathan’s life here for it was true that he spent more time in London than anywhere—as I believe Dickon had done before his marriage. What a different life it would have been for me if I had married him, I thought a little wistfully.

But I should never have been sure of him. Jonathan could never be faithful to one woman. I doubted Dickon could in his youth; but Dickon and my mother were now truly lovers, as the Comte, my grandfather, had been with my grandmother. It needed real love to change men like that. Dickon had, strangely enough, found that love, as my grandfather had, and as I knew many people had marvelled in the change in the Comte, so they now did in Dickon. I guessed it must be something very rare. And I thought sadly that Jonathan had not yet reached that stage.

I was ungrateful to wish for anything different from what we had. I had the best of husbands, an adorable child. What more could one ask for?

It was the excitement of the big city and all the pleasures that were to be found in it that made me thoughtful. But were the pleasures important compared with peace and contentment and the knowledge that one could trust completely in a husband’s love?

One would not want to visit the theatre every night, to wander through the pleasure gardens, to visit the shops every day. These things were exciting because they were rare. Familiarity bred contempt. That could be true. I must learn to accept what I had, to realize its worth and be grateful for it.

My mother and I spent a great deal of time choosing our materials. Silk was very expensive since it had become scarce, for much of it had come from France in the past and of course that industry had halted when the people began murdering each other. The same applied to lace. No other people seemed to make these materials with the elegance of the French, so it took us a little longer to find what we wanted.

We went to the theatre in the Haymarket and heard Handel’s Acis and Galatea, which was an uplifting experience; and then for contrast next day we went to Mrs. Salmon’s Waxworks, close by the Temple. We were very amused by the effigies outside the door of an old match seller on crutches, carrying a basket of matches, and beside her a beefeater in the most splendid costume. They were so lifelike that people came up to peer at them and make sure that they were not real. How we laughed and marvelled at the figures! There were the King and Queen Charlotte with the Prince of Wales, side by side with Dr. Johnson and John Wilkes and other notable figures—all startlingly lifelike. I loved the next room, which was a pastoral scene with shepherds courting shepherdesses. In another room was a model of a ship in a sea of glass. So we felt we had good value for our sixpence entrance fee and bought some marbles and Punch-and-Judy figures from the shop which was part of the establishment.