Mary Kingswood's Blog, page 9

Review: The Matrimonial Advertisement by Mimi Matthews (2018)

This was so close to being a five star read – an intriguing premise, fascinating characters, an atmospheric setting and lots of promise for dramatic revelations – what could go wrong? I’ll get to that.

Here’s the premise: Justin Thornhill has managed to hoist himself up from humble beginnings to buy a run-down house in the West Country. All he needs is a wife to help him run the place. Helena Reynolds needs to escape from London, and she’s desperate enough to answer a matrimonial advertisement. She’ll marry a complete stranger if he’ll keep her safe. I find this a fascinating premise. It’s obvious that both these two have dark stories to tell. Justin is an ex-soldier with scars and burns covering his body. Helena has bruises to hide, too. But they accept each other as they are, and they quickly marry.

Instantly, Helena’s past turns up to disrupt them, and Justin’s fears that she’s too grand to be marrying the likes of him are fully realised. But he does what he has agreed to do, and gets rid of the men who would take her back to London and all the horrors she wanted so badly to escape from. I won’t spoil things by going into details about either her past or Justin’s, but suffice it to say that she is being pursued by a very powerful person.

Up to the halfway point, this is a fascinating story, beautifully realised and steeped in atmosphere and mystery. The two main characters are wonderfully real in all their interactions (a bit of a beauty and the beast vibe going on there), and the clifftop abbey and its odd inhabitants suitably gothic. I did wonder if it always rained quite so much in Devon, and maybe they could have just the occasional balmy day, but it was certainly atmospheric.

But the second half, where Helena and Justin go to London and do all sorts of conventional things – balls, morning calls, the theatre – is much less interesting, and at the very end, the biggest problem of all – an outbreak of I’m-not-worthy-itis from Justin, so that he takes off back to Devon and Helena’s not invited. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, even more than a Great Misunderstanding, it’s a hero who simply assumes he knows what’s best for the heroine. Look, selfless heroes everywhere, treat your heroines with a bit of respect, all right? They’re sensible people with hopes and fears and feelings too, so ASK what they want before self-righteously sloping off and leaving them with a broken heart.

But other than that, I don’t have much to grumble about. This is set in the Victorian era, not the more familiar (to me) Regency, so some things that seemed odd to me might be quite legitimate. The talk of annulment, for instance – very much not a thing in the Regency, but maybe it’s fine by the mid-Victorian era. I did wonder that the 6th Earl was so easily declared dead on the say-so of just one person. Usually with titles, the fear of making a mistake kept the title in abeyance unless there was an actual body. And I disapproved hugely of leaving the money that usually supported a title to someone else entirely. Being a peer was an expensive business, and the poor man was supposed to live in a manner appropriate for his station, not in penury. And why was the income from the estate not tied to the entailed land, in the form of rent-paying tenant farmers, as was usual? So I wasn’t quite sure how that worked.

Still, these are trivial points. The book is beautifully written, it feels authentic to its time (and I loved the way Helena’s big skirts were a constant reminder of that) and the two main characters were wonderful. Justin, in particular, is a true hero. Only that stupid last-minute outbreak of unworthiness annoyed me enough to keep it to four stars. And now I’m going straight on to the next book in the series to find out just what did happen to Giles.

Review: Manor For Sale, Baron Included by Esther Hatch (2021)

OK, so this is frivolous to the extreme, and a pleasant palate-cleanser after an overdose of angst in the last book I read. Plausible? Not in the slightest, but it’s still a lot of fun.

Here’s the premise: Jonathan (or John), Lord Farnsworth, has inherited an awkward situation: several unprofitable entailed estates, which he can’t sell, and just one that he can sell to set him financially on his feet again. Trouble is, it’s the only one he regards as home, the place he was happiest, because it was where his mother lived. He really, really doesn’t want to sell it, but when he discovers that the potential buyer is a beautiful young woman, he’s intrigued. Maybe he can sell to Miss Duncan and then marry her, and get the estate back again? But he quickly discovers that Sally is very far from being impressed by his title or his person, and, what is worse, she’s doing all sorts of unspeakable things to the house. So that’s not going to plan, at all.

I have to say that John is rather an endearing character. He bumbles ineffectually around on the fringes of Sally’s life while she does her best to ignore him, and when that doesn’t work, to deter him. And he never wavers in his determination to marry Sally, finding ever more reasons for it as time passes and he slides slowly but irrevocably deep in love with her. She takes longer to reach that point, because although he thinks it will be easy to win her because of the title (all girls want to marry a nobleman, don’t they?), she is prejudiced against noblemen for good and sound reasons which he knows nothing about. So when he finally steps forward to propose, he’s shocked when she icily rejects him.

At this point I would really have liked the two to sit down and discuss just why they feel the way they do. John needed to tell Sally how much he loved her and not make it about the house, and she needed to explain her reservations, not to mention trying to get to know him a bit better. After all their interactions at this point, surely she owed him that and not simply making assumptions about him. But Sally the hard-nosed-business-woman doesn’t seem to be able to read John’s character the way she would in a business deal. In many ways, she’s not a very likeable person, but perhaps that’s due to her unusual upbringing, being given responsibility for a business. All the softer, more caring part of her personality is focused around her sister, but I’m not sure that’s enough to redeem her for the awful way she treats John.

To be honest, this is not a book I would normally read – it sounds too frivolous by half, and it’s true that the early chapters are pretty silly (although also pretty funny, especially the pond and the squirrel). It’s also a strange sort of world these characters inhabit. The Dorset house seems to exist in a vacuum, with no neighbouring gentry, not even the vicar, and Sally’s mother and another chaperon are conspicuous by their absence. What sort of mother stays in London enjoying herself while her two unmarried daughters take off for Dorset to live on their own? I know this is the Victorian age, not my usual Regency, but mores haven’t changed that much.

But the silliness of the opening chapters gives way later to a much more profound style, which I liked very much. The scene in the library is one that will stay with me for a long time (even though, once again, Mama is far too neglectful of her daughter; where was she while all that kissing was going on?). Sally is still wildly making assumptions almost to the end of the book, but happily everyone else gangs up on her to bring about the long-awaited happy ending. A very different read, for me, but enjoyable. Four stars.

Review: Something Old by Rebecca Connolly (2021)

This is not my kind of Regency at all. Nothing wrong with it, and I totally understand why many readers would love it, but it just doesn’t do it for me, sadly. Too much angst and introspection, and not enough action.

Here’s the premise: Thomas and Lily Granger have been married for five years. They were inching along a path of gentle courtship when Thomas lost virtually all his money. He then asked for Lily’s hand solely to use her dowry to re-establish himself. Now, five years later, he’s finally achieved that. He’s not only solvent again, but he has Lily’s original dowry to restore to her, as well as his own somewhat improved finances. But even though he loves his wife, guilt has kept him from showing her any affection at all. Now he wants to start again, wooing her as he should have done before they married. But is it too late?

And here’s the kicker: unbeknownst to him, Lily has been in love with him for years, but she’s all but given up hope of their marriage ever developing into a real marriage of mutual affection.

Now, this is an intriguing situation. I find it a little implausible that Thomas would allow his guilt to so overwhelm him that he shows no affection whatsoever to Lily. They live virtually separate lives. However, I’m always prepared to give a book its initial premise, so let it stand. The interesting question is how he deals with the situation now. No points for anyone who said: they sit down over a cup of tea and talk everything through. No, silly, this is a Regency romance, where no one ever simply explains what the problem is and proposes solutions. Instead, the couple both agonise over their situation at inordinate length, chapter after chapter that seem to be nothing but inner monologues.

The first thing Thomas does is to seek out all his best buddies, and ask them for advice. Now, this gives me a severe case of the wobbles. Even today, blokes are (in general) not good at talking to other blokes about emotional problems, and Regency blokes are (in general) more buttoned up than most. It strikes me as wildly implausible that Thomas would be so open about his problems. Generally speaking, Regency marriages were smooth on the surface, no matter what was going on behind the scenes, yet here everyone knows what’s going on and mucks in to offer advice.

I have another grumble at this point, too. All these blokish friends (and some of Lily’s female friends, too, who are also asked for advice) seem to have drifted in from an earlier series. If you’re a fan of the author, and you remember and love these characters, this will be a huge bonus for you, but I just felt as if I’d missed something vital.

After an interlude in London, where things don’t go so well for our newly courting couple, they eventually realise they have to get completely away from everywhere that’s familiar and they head off to the promised Cornwall. This perks the romance up beautifully, but it also causes an outbreak of perfection-itis. The house they rent is idyllic. They themselves are beautiful and wonderful in every way. Lily, we are repeatedly told, is just perfect. Thomas is a considerate employer (he part-owns mines in the area) and devotes time and money to the welfare of his workers and their families. Lily, being very forward-thinking, goes into one of the mines with him. When introduced to the illegitimate half-sister of a local lord, she instantly befriends her. And so on. Frankly, this gets tedious very quickly, and since there’s no plot to speak of, beyond the relationship of Thomas and Lily, there’s nothing to distract from the ongoing monologues and the perfection-itis.

Eventually, a tiny hint of a plot event arises that throws a challenge to our now adoring couple, but I confess that by this time I didn’t much care. As I said before, this style of book just isn’t my cup of tea, but for those who love this kind of emotional outpouring, this is a well-written example, with only a light smattering of Americanisms to disturb. Not a bad book at all, but for me only three stars.

Review: Gather Ye Rosebuds by Joan Smith (1993)

A strange little book, an intriguing mystery combined with the usual (for this era) unconvincing romance. It gets a bit convoluted, but very funny as the principals are supposedly working together but also trying to keep vital clues secret from each other.

Here’s the premise: Zoie Barron is an aspiring artist, planning to renovate a room of the family home to use as a studio. It was her late uncle’s room, and while clearing it out, she discovers a valuable diamond necklace, reported stolen by a neighbour some five years ago, just when the uncle returned from India and moved in with the family. Is he a thief? And if so, how can she return the necklace to the family of the owner (now dead) without any awkward questions being asked? Her attempts become increasingly awkward, and the whole scheme is soon uncovered by Lord Weylin, the head of the neighbouring family, and nephew of the necklace’s owner.

From then on, Weylin and Zoie join forces to solve the mystery of the necklace, and the strange history of the lady who owned it originally and the man who ended up with it. Or at least, they claim to join forces, but repeatedly they conceal information from each other that would reflect badly on their own family. The comedy arises from their various lies, together with the discovery of them. Probably this fell into the category of ‘Regency romp’ in its day, but there’s an element of silliness that had me veering towards three stars some of the time. But there are also some stronger moments, and the romance, while overshadowed by the mystery, is allowed to develop slowly over much of the course of the book, and I always give credit for that, since it isn’t always the case for books of this vintage. There is a nice kissing moment in the rose garden by moonlight, too, so brownie points for that. An interesting and (for me) unexpected ending to the mystery, but quite logical. It’s a quirky read that won’t suit everyone, but being generous, I’ll settle for four stars.

Review: Petteril’s Wife by Mary Lancaster (2024)

These books are a constant delight, and thank goodness Mary Lancaster is such a prolific author that hopeful readers never have to wait too long for the next instalment of that ill-assorted pair, Piers and April.

Here’s the premise: Lord Petteril’s cousin, Major Bertie Withan, has disappeared in Portugal in the very short time between arriving in Lisbon and leaving to join his regiment. Since then, nothing has been heard of him, and the locals all think he must be dead. Piers (Lord Petteril) is determined to find out one way or the other, so off he goes to Lisbon with his trusty helper, former thief April, to find out. To deflect awkward questions, Piers is pretending to be a lowly clerk, with April as his wife, although they very chastely step around each other to avoid unnecessary intimacy on the sea voyage to Portugal and at their hotel.

I’ll be honest, and say that I could have done with a bit more background at the start of the book to explain exactly what was going on. I’m never good at remembering plots and characters from earlier books, so I struggled a bit with this one, starting as it did more or less without any explanation. However, the plot burbles along merrily, and we soon have a fine array of locals and military sorts who might have seen Bertie shortly before his disappearance. One of the local aristocracy was murdered on the same night, and there’s a rumour of a duel – but do these mean anything, or are they merely distractions? Or is the key to be found at a local and very unsavoury bordello? As Piers and April investigate, April’s past as a thief and survivor of some pretty unsavoury situations of her own stand her in good stead to make discoveries in her own unorthodox way.

The mystery isn’t really terribly mysterious in the end, but of course the fun is in getting there, and then there’s a surprising little twist at the end although I’m not sure quite how I feel about it. Big, big ramifications for future books, at the very least. If I have a complaint at all about these stories, it’s that April’s progression from uneducated street urchin to a passable sort of lady, complete with accent, manners and reading/writing skills, is simply not credible, and certainly not at the speed depicted here. But that’s my only grumble, and to be honest, the unique relationship between Piers and April far outweighs the implausibility. The mysteries are fun, but I keep reading to see how this unlikely couple eventually resolve the differences between them and find the happy ending they both deserve. An excellent five stars.

Review: Piqued And Repiqued by Judith Hale Everett (2023)

There’s never any knowing what will drop from the creative pen of this author, but I know for sure it will always be interesting, and beautifully written. After a run of slightly oddball and frankly curious books, this is a stellar return to the form of the very first of this series.

Here’s the premise: Jonathan Blysdale is barely a gentleman, since his father was a wealthy man but in trade. Jonathan, however, has been raised to something different, with the education and manners of a gentleman, and no need to sully his hands with anything remotely resembling work. He has determinedly risen in society, and although the highest sticklers don’t accept him, he is received pretty much everywhere. When he sees the lovely Lady Athena Dibbington, he decides that making her his wife will be his ultimate triumph. But Athena is the coolest of cool customers, born to marry a marquess to compensate for her Mama’s failure in that direction, and there is no way she is going to look at a man like Jonathan Blysdale. She knows how to depress the pretensions of a man like that!

Jonathan, however, is not deterred in the least. Athena’s mother is even more set against him than Athena is, but Jonathan sets out to win the friendship of first her father and then her friends, and uses whatever means he can dream up to discover where Athena goes to and which parties she will attend, so that he can accidentally bump into her several times a week. And he’s such a charming, well-mannered man that she begins to be won round. Not that she intends to marry him, because her marquess is already circling around her, but she sees enough to be able to compare the two men and not to the marquess’s advantage.

From here on, it’s no great spoiler to say that Athena slowly crumbles into love, but there’s no plain sailing to the happy ending, with plenty of twists and turns to keep the reader turning the pages. I loved the gradual transformation of Athena, I loved Jonathan facing up to the consequences of his actions and above all I loved the unusual character of Iris, Athena’s friend who sets out to ensure her happiness. A wonderful, intelligent book that I highly recommend. Five stars.

Review: A Lady’s Guide To Fortune Hunting by Sophie Irwin (2022)

This is one of those books that must have had the agent chuckling reading the synopsis. It sounds such a delightfully amusing romp, but it’s the execution that falls a bit flat initially. Fortunately, it acquires some depth just in the nick of time.

Here’s the premise: Kitty Talbot is the eldest of five sisters left in dire straits by the death of her parents. Fortunately, she’s betrothed to a neighbour, so he’ll take care of them, won’t he? But the opening scene of the book (which is perhaps its zenith) shows the neighbour rather grumpily jilting Kitty. Now what’s she to do? If she doesn’t find a way to rescue their finances in three months flat, they’ll all be out on their ear, and then what will they all do? But Kitty is a resourceful woman; she’ll go up to London and find herself another husband rich enough to keep the sisters and their home afloat. There’s an ‘aunt’ (a friend of their mother’s) who will help to introduce them into society, younger sister Cecily can go too, for the experience, and how hard can it be, really? But at the very first outing, a trip to the theatre, where they are introduced to some likely suitors with reasonable incomes, Kitty sees the fabulously wealthy de Lacy family and a chance meeting with them soon afterwards releases all her ambition. Never mind the reasonable incomes, she wants a rich husband, and Archie de Lacy will do very well.

At first things go swimmingly. Archie, who’s young enough and innocent enough not to realise he’s being manipulated, is soon head over heels in love with Kitty, his suspicious mother is brought round Kitty’s thumb too, and all is looking rosy, when Archie’s older brother, Lord Radcliffe, arrives from darkest Devonshire to put a spoke in Kitty’s wheel. Somehow, she manages to wheedle her way around him, too – not to allow her to marry Archie, but Radcliffe will help ease her into their higher level of society and find the rich, complaisant husband she needs.

At this point, neither of the principals is very appealing. Kitty is single-mindedly pursuing a rich husband, the very worst kind of fortune hunter, and Lord Radcliffe (James to his family) is only reluctantly drawn from his Devonshire home, having successfully avoided London society and, to a large extent, his own family ever since he returned from the continent after Waterloo. So yes, this is a very much a soldier dealing with PTSD, but it’s handled very lightly, and in a proper Regency way, so that’s fine. And there are Daddy issues, too, but again, it’s not laid on with a trowel. But still, he’s very detached from his own family, and I really don’t like him very much at this point.

It’s worth mentioning here that the version of the Regency the author creates is not one I recognise. It’s true that every author creates his or her own vision of the Regency. Georgette Heyer may have been the first, but her ideas are not cast in stone, and there’s plenty of scope for alternative visions. However, when you are talking about the upper levels of society, the class system is baked into everything. Amelia and Archie de Lacy, for instance, would not have been walking in the park every day; they would have ridden or driven in a barouche or something equally stylish, to distinguish themselves from the riff-raff with less money. Nor would Kitty, Cecily and their ‘aunt’ ever have been admitted into any of the fashionable balls; admission was only to those known to the hostess, and, to be honest, all those in society recognised instantly those who were not of their class. Clothes, jewels, accent, manners all kept the penniless masses at bay. Kitty’s remarkable success in inveigling her way into all the fashionable squeezes (and even Almack’s!) makes a good story, but I didn’t find it remotely plausible.

So up to the halfway point, I was not really enjoying this at all. But then something interesting happens. The two protagonists, Kitty and James, despite being sworn enemies, start to open up to each other in interesting ways, and become much more real and yes, even sympathetic. Finally, some real depth to the characters. The ending is rather elegant with not one but two dramas to be resolved, and a fine, romantic ending for our hero and heroine.

The writing is strong, although infested with anachronisms (stablehands, for instance, instead of ostlers or grooms). There are one or two odd word choices. For instance, ‘outfitted yourself well’ which should be acquitted. My biggest complaint, though, is the use of titles that actually exist. There’s a Duke of Leicester, for instance, even though there’s a real Earl of Leicester. Lord Montagu and the Cavendish family are also real entities that existed in the Regency and are still in existence today. To my mind, it’s very rude to use the names of real, identifiable people as fictional characters. But that apart, this is an interesting and unusual story. It’s not quite as whimsical or amusing as it might think it is, however, but the more intense notes later in the book manage to lift it above the ordinary. I was torn between three and four stars, but since this is a debut, I’ll be generous and give it four stars.

Review: Bath Scandal by Joan Smith (1991)

Another winner from Joan Smith, with a charming heroine, an initially grumpy but soon melting hero, some amusingly horse-mad minor characters and a creative ending.

Here’s the premise: eligible Lord Southam is betrothed to manipulative Deborah Swann, but the marriage is being delayed by his eldest half sister, Gillian, who cordially dislikes Deborah, and the feeling is mutual. Deborah has sworn she won’t marry Southam until Gillie is safely married and out of the house. But where to send her? The girl’s head is full of horses and not much else, she’s too gauche to be set loose on the London marriage mart and there are no suitable relatives. But there’s the widow of Southam’s cousin, Beatrice Searle, who lives in Bath, and is also an old school friend of Deborah’s. She would do, and it would get Gillie out of the house for a few weeks. After all, what can she possibly get up to in Bath?

Bea Searle is delighted with the idea. She remembers Lord Southam very well, since he flirted with her outrageously at her own wedding, knows that he’s not yet married and sees a perfect opportunity to weigh up the possibility of a second, and very agreeable, husband. She’s very put out when it’s not Southam himself who brings Gillie to Bath, only her former governess, Miss Pittfield. For a while, she lets her peevishness sour her relationship with Gillie, but she soon sees that the girl is homesick and in need of some gentle mothering, and her sympathies are aroused.

After this, they get along swimmingly, as Bea introduces Gillie to her horsiest acquaintances, manages to smarten her up a little and takes her off for some gentle evening entertainments. But Southam is concerned by the seemingly raffish nature of Gillie’s new horsey friends, and decides to drive to Bath to take a look at them, and this is where the book really takes off. Bea and Southam, after a chilly start, soon rediscover the fun of flirtation, the raffish friends turn out to be a duke and his uncle, and Southam starts to make unfavourable comparisons with his future wife. Deborah’s managing ways are not nearly so agreeable as Bea’s lively, not to say welcoming, nature.

Once the project to marry Gillie to the equally horse-mad duke gets underway, there’s a trip to Bournemouth, where Southam makes the mistake of a heavy-handed nocturnal approach to Bea, and gets the sharp end of her Irish temper. Happily, he’s too far along the road to being in love with her to let things stand, so the story becomes the familiar one: how to escape his now unwanted betrothal to Deborah? I have to say, Southam’s methods are ingenious.

This was a thoroughly enjoyable read, despite a number of anachronisms and Americanisms. The banter between Bea and Southam is delightful, Gillie and her duke are great fun, and even Miss Pittfield is given a spirited personality. As ‘villains’ go, Deborah is as entertaining as they come, and no doubt she’ll find some other muggins to manipulate into marriage. A great read. Five stars.

Review: Petteril’s Portrait by Mary Lancaster (2024)

Another good outing for our likeable but improbable sleuths, Piers and April. Not a lot of progress on their relationship, but I suspect the author’s going to milk it for all its worth. I have to say, I don’t quite see where the inevitable happy ending is coming from, but we’ll see.

Here’s the premise: new viscount Piers, Lord Petteril, is asked to call in at a friend’s house instead of going direct to his own estate. A portrait of his late father has been damaged, and it’s upsetting for everyone, not least his stepmother, Lady Haggard. His ex-thief ‘assistant’, April, hates the idea; Piers wanted to leave her with Lady Haggard to be trained as a servant, and was only dissuaded after some effort on April’s part. Now she wonders if she should trust him. But Piers is getting a reputation for solving mysteries, so to Lady Haggard’s house party they are to go.

The mystery is the usual thing – a range of suspects, and a great deal of careful questioning and observation by Piers and April. April is able to move between upstairs and downstairs, which makes her particularly useful, and her background as a ne’er-do-well, always looking out for trouble coming her way, makes her very observant. Piers’ relations are well to the fore, as well, including his obnoxious aunt, and his cousin Gussie, a young lady who seems to attract undesirable types like a magnet and frankly is very poorly chaperoned. House parties are notorious for shenanigans, and this one has inordinate numbers of people wandering the upper corridors at night.

The mystery takes a neat twist towards the end of the book, with an explanation that I didn’t see coming but was very satisfying. A very enjoyable five stars, but I still wonder where Piers and April will end up.

Review: The Country Gentleman by Fiona Hill (1987)

This is an odd sort of book, one where I hated the heroine for most of it, found the hero incomprehensible and thought many of the events implausible, yet I still enjoyed it thoroughly. Partly, that’s because of its age; it doesn’t conform to modern standards and so I found it surprising in a multitude of ways, and that’s far better than being predictable. There are some spoilers below, so don’t read on if you don’t want to know.

Here’s the premise: Anne Guilfoyle is a spinster of twenty-eight, living happily in London surrounded by friends, especially her admirer and the man she has loved for ten years, Lord Ensley. Unfortunately, she has only a very small portion and he needs to marry wealth, so he can’t marry her, but they’ve drifted merrily through the years so far, so why should that change? But change it does, for three things happen more or less simultaneously. Firstly, Lord Ensley is about to marry a suitable (and rich) young lady. Secondly, Anne’s lawyer, who has been managing her funds, has lost the lot. And thirdly, she has been left a small estate in Cheshire. You see what I mean about implausible? Two of those things I might accept, but three? No.

Be that as it may, it forces Anne to leave her beloved London (or civilisation, as she sees it) and her equally beloved Lord Ensley, and decamp with her widowed companion, Maria, to Cheshire. Here she finds the house provincial and the nearest neighbour, one Mr Henry Highet, a country bumpkin. He is single and lives with his very managing mother.
It should be noted at this point that Anne is a raging snob. She lives for sophisticated society, of which she is a leading light on account of her incisive wit, and that kind of frivolous banter is sadly lacking in Cheshire. She despises Mr Highet, although when it comes to learning how to manage her newly acquired estate, she finds that he’s both knowledgeable and willing to help her. Thus she discovers that there’s more to him than she’d originally suspected.

Into this bucolic existence comes the aforementioned Lord Ensley, who’s exerting all his persuasive powers to drag Anne back to London. He misses her, you see, and he’ll quite happily fund her. Some of her other London friends arrive for a visit, and decamp after a couple of days, finding it too dull for words. But she’s beginning to find sources of pleasure, even so far from London, so she sends Lord Ensley away with a flea in his ear.

So now we come to the spoiler. On the precise day that Lord Ensley is due to marry his heiress, Mr Highet makes a proposition to Anne. If they marry, he will make a settlement on her which will allow her to return to her life in London, and in exchange, he gets her estate. It will be a marriage of convenience only, since he’s perfectly content with his mother for company. For Anne, it’s perfect. She gets her life back, and also the company of her beloved Lord Ensley, who seems prepared to continue indefinitely with their cosy companionship, despite his marriage.

But why does Henry suggest such a thing? It’s fairly obvious to the reader that he’s in love with Anne, but if so, it’s a huge risk he’s taking. I’m not sure I believe in a man who’s so selfless that he’d sacrifice his own happiness entirely for the woman he loves. After all, once she’s settled in London, she might never come back at all, and his mother certainly doesn’t want her to.

Of course, once back in town, Anne discovers that Lord Ensley is a shallow, strutting coxcomb, whom she doesn’t even like very much, and this sudden revelation is perhaps the most implausible part of the whole book. She’s been in love with him for ten years, for heaven’s sake, and now she isn’t? Usually when ‘the scales fall from the eyes’ in that dramatic way, it’s because the object of affection has done something unspeakable, a betrayal of some sort. But no, Ensley’s the same as he’s always been, and we’re supposed to believe that a few months of Henry’s simple country goodness has been enough to effect this transformation? Well, whatever, and it has the desired effect because Anne hotfoots it back to Cheshire for the romantic reconciliation.

And despite all my grumbles about plausibility, I still enjoyed this enormously. I do like these older books that surprise my twenty-first century self at every turn. So four stars, and I recommend it on the grounds that these issues won’t bother most people in the slightest.