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glad I am that you married Mr Fitzherbert and have invited me to stay with you.’
    ‘I am glad about both of those things also,’ Maria told her.
    Maria enjoyed launching her sister on London society and when she took her to Swynnerton, Frances was a success. She was exceptionally pretty, charming, gay and goodnatured; but a pale shadow of Maria, most people agreed.
    There was one young man who was entertained frequently at Swynnerton who did not however agree with this verdict.
    Frances came into her sister’s bedroom while Maria was at her dressing table. Maria, who liked to dress her own hair, had dismissed her maid. She still wore it naturally. She was secretly proud of those thick corn-coloured curls and was not going to have them disfigured by powder; and as her own hair was abundant she had no need to pad it. Besides, she preferred to follow an original style.
    Frances sat on the bed and watched her sister.
    ‘You should see the hairstyles in Paris. They get higher and higher. Women are wearing feathers and even country scenes in their hair. And the Queen leads the fashion, which becomes more outrageous every day. Monsieur Leonard, her hairdresser, goes rattling along in his very fine carriage every day from Paris to Versailles to dress the Queen’s hair.’
    ‘I shan’t change my style … not even for the Queen of France,’ said Maria.
    ‘I don’t blame you. Yours looks lovely. Maria, I have come to the conclusion that you are a very unusual woman.’
    ‘Have you only just come to that conclusion?’ asked Maria lightly.
    ‘Well I’ve always known it. You’re very happy with Tom, are you not?’
    Maria agreed that this was so.
    ‘But then you were happy with Mr Weld.’
    That was also true.
    ‘I wonder whether, Maria, you are the sort of woman who would be happy with any man.’
    ‘I’m sure I should not.’
    ‘But two happy marriages. You are, of course, very good-natured, amusing, clever and beautiful.’
    ‘Please, you are making me blush.’
    ‘But you are also wise, so you know these things. How much am I like you, Maria?’
    ‘Quite a bit, I believe.’
    ‘I wonder if I shall be happily married.’
    ‘I am sure you will if you marry wisely.’
    ‘Are people wise when they are in love?’
    Maria was thoughtful. She had married what was considered wisely twice. Yet she hesitated to answer that question. A thought came into her head. Had she ever been in love? She was fond of Thomas, of course; she had been fond of Edward, but …
    Frances was looking at her intently.
    ‘I think,’ said Frances steadily, ‘that I could feel the same for Carnaby Haggerston as you do for Thomas Fitzherbert.’
    Maria was excited. ‘Frances. He has …’
    Frances nodded.
    ‘And you accepted?’
    ‘Not exactly. I wanted to talk to you first.’
    ‘But you are fond of him, Frances? I have seen you together. I know.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Frances, ‘I’m fond of him.’
    ‘I’m delighted.’ Maria rose and embraced her sister. ‘Mamma will be so pleased and so will Papa … poor dear Papa … if he is able to grasp what this means. Uncle Henry and Thomas will both be so … gratified. It is just what we should all have wished.’
    Frances nodded and kept her eyes on her face. Maria was happy; and her happiness had come through wisdom. No one could deny that Sir Carnaby Haggerston of the Northumberland Catholic Haggerstons was not an excellent match.
    With Frances safely married and the chance of helping the boys which marriage with Thomas gave her, Maria was at peace. Occasionally she invited her mother to spend a little time with her in the country. Poor Mamma, she had changed a great deal since Papa’s stroke and Maria feared she sighed nostalgically for the past. Walter had gone into the Austrian Army since his religious opinions debarred him from joining that in his own country; and Uncle Henry was often at Brambridge. But he was too indulgent and the boys, Maria feared, sadly missed a