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carriage.”
     Instantly Cecily found herself bustled in, seated in a stout rocking chair by the fire, and provided with a mug of near black tea. She glanced around the room, a kitchen which was obviously also the family’s main living space. All was neat and clean, from the brick floor to the iron pots hanging by the fireplace, to the well-scrubbed table and the ham and braids of onions dangling from the ceiling. A door in one corner probably led to a bedchamber, and a ladder in another corner to a loft with further sleeping quarters, Cecily guessed.
     Mrs Diver, a plump body in a red gingham apron, with greying hair beneath a spotless white mob cap, beamed at Cecily. So did Ben and his older sister, and so did the doctor.
     “I just dropped by to check Ben’s arm,” he said, his dark eyebrows raised enquiringly.
     “I bring a message from the Duchess.”
     “From her Grace?” gasped Mrs Diver. “Well I never!” A small girl who had been hiding behind her skirts peeked out.  “There’s many a message my man gets from his Grace, m’lady, ‘bout the pheasants and all, but what’s the Duchess got to say to the likes of us?”
     Cecily smiled at her. “She hopes you and Mr Diver will be willing to allow Ben to take a post as her page-boy, when his arm is healed.”
     Ben, his splinted arm in a sling, whooped, then asked anxiously, “Does a page-boy get to wear liv’ry?”
     “I cannot promise, but usually.” Cecily turned to his mother, who looked worried. “I understand your husband expects Ben to follow in his footsteps, Mrs Diver. I hope he will at least consider letting him try an inside position for a while.”
     “He’ll do what her Grace wants, m’lady. I just hopes Ben’ll behave himself proper. He’s a good lad but he don’t know how to go on up the big house.”
     “The Duchess realizes he will have a great deal to learn,” Cecily reassured her.
     “That he will. Anyways, it’s right kindly in your ladyship to take an interest in my boy. He come home yesterday singing your ladyship’s praises, he did, didn’t he, Dr Iain?”
     Cecily blushed. She could not very well explain that she had been driven less by kindness than by a spirit of rebellion.
     “I’ll impose on your kindness again, Lady Cecily,” said the doctor, a hint of challenge in his manner, as if he guessed her thoughts. He held out his hand to the little girl. “Young Annie here has the earache and will not let her mama hold her still for me to take a look. Perhaps in your lap she may stay quiet.”
     Rising to the challenge, Cecily smiled at the child. “Would you not like to come and see the pretty gold braid on my dress?” she invited.
     Thumb in mouth, Annie allowed herself to be settled on Cecily’s knee, where she gravely inspected the braiding. The doctor, kneeling beside them, parted her hair with a gentle hand and peered at the offending ear.
     “It is a trifle inflamed, and there is some matter exuding. I want you to wash it out twice a day, Mrs Diver, with some warmed rectified spirits of wine. I shall send down a bottle from the house, and I’ll look in again on Boxing Day.”
     Making their adieux, and followed by thanks, Cecily and Dr Macfarlane stepped out of the cottage. Dr Macfarlane looked around.
     “Did you come alone, Lady Cecily?”
     “No, I sent the groom home, thinking to ride back with you,” Cecily explained, a trifle abashed. Perhaps it was rather presumptuous in her to suppose he would wish to escort her. “Did you intend to join the hunt?”
     “Not I. Less in sympathy with the fox, I fear,” he added, laughing, “than for fear of an accident which might interfere with my work. I was going to ride into the village to visit a few patients, but I have plenty of time to see you back to the house first.”
     “I don’t wish to take you out of your way. May I not go with you? The village belongs to the Felversham estate, I expect?”
     “Yes, the villagers are