Anonymous - The Secret Chronicles of Henry Dashwood, Vol. 2

Braithwaite were planning a dinner party for Fanny and myself to meet Alfred and Lester Toddington, the twin sons of a local wealthy landowner who had sent them out to India fifteen years ago to make their fortunes, and they had returned home last year, having made a large profit from some transactions in government surplus goods.

'But Mama, Alfred and Lester are in their late thirties!' I exclaimed despairingly. 'Fanny and I have met them before, and they may have lots of money but it would be difficult to decide who is the more boring.' 'Ah, they might seem boring now, but I'm sure that when you get to know them better, you'll find the two gentlemen to be far more entertaining then the callow youths you have been used to,'

Mama replied. 'Anyhow, they have formally asked permission to speak to you and Fanny and it would be most impolite for you to refuse even to meet them.' I made my displeasure known by rising from the table and saying: 'Mama, the very idea of an involvement with either Alfred or Lester Toddington is quite absurd. If we had no financial troubles, you would simply turn down such a request without a second thought.'

'Maybe I would, Cassie, but I am thinking of you far more than any benefits gained by Papa and myself she replied hotly. 'Don't you see that your father and I are greatly concerned that you might not bring any dowry with you into a proposed marriage. If and of course the decision must be yours and yours alone, it transpired that you found one of the Toddingtons to your fancy, the lack of a dowry would be unimportant.' The next morning I discovered that a similar conversation had taken place between Fanny and her Mama, so I will come straight to the point, Charlie. You must come down to Devon as soon as possible and rescue Fanny and myself from the clutches of the Toddingtons! Don't misunderstand me, of course my parents would never force me to marry against my will, and neither would Fanny's — but I need someone whom I trust implicitly to help us work out how best to cool the Toddingtons's ardour without upsetting the apple cart even further. Can't you get away from Oxford for a long weekend?

By all means bring a friend with you (preferably a nice young man because I've bad no boyfriend since I decided to end my relationship with the Honourable Graham Bowe earlier this year after catching him behind the pavilion at the tennis club being sucked off by the vicar's daughter). Write back soon, Charlie dear, and let me know whether you will be able to help two girls in need of a doughty champion.

All my love, Cassandra With a sigh, I put down this heartfelt cri de coeur and carefully folded the sheets of paper back into the envelope.

Clearly, Charles showed me this letter to find out whether I would be willing to assist him rescue these two young damsels in distress.

I hauled myself out of my seat and strode briskly out of the library to take up Charles' invitation to join him for coffee in the common room. Wasting no time, I plumped myself into an armchair next to him and said: 'There's only one question I want to ask you, old chap. Do we go to Devon on Friday or shall we wait until the following week end?' Morley Hall, South Devon, October 25th, 1901 (Before Dinner) From the date above this entry, diary, you will note that Charles and I wasted no time in hastening down to assist Cassandra and Fanny rid themselves of their unwanted suitors. Even if it had meant cutting a lecture or two, we would still have booked tickets on the fast London train. However, Dr Barnes was slightly indisposed and cancelled his Friday seminar. If we return by Monday evening, all we will miss will be an economics lecture and Joshua has promised to supply us with his notes so we will not fall behind in our studies. The only disappointment is that Charles and I have both had to drop out of the college football team's game against Oriel, but unless I am much mistaken, Charles and I may well find ourselves involved in physical sport of another kind tomorrow night. We're in fine fettle for any such engagement for Charles and I left Oxford at eight o'clock this morning and we arrived here by tea-time. What a difference the railway has made to travel.

Journeys which took my parents several days can now be accomplished in a matter of hours, and I am convinced that once perfected, the internal combustion engine will herald a similar revolution in this new century. On the other hand, we'll need to build many more roads to accommodate the growing numbers of motor vehicles and it will be a great shame if we sacrifice the beauty of the countryside. I grant that scientific progress should not be impaired, and there is no doubt that fellows like Julian Clayton derive great fun from driving their motor cars at tremendous speeds of up to forty miles an hour on the better roads. Yet how much more pleasant it is to relax in the luxury of an express train where one can stretch the legs, read a book or simply stare out of the window and then stroll slowly down to the refreshment car for a snack or slap-up meal. Certainly, this is how I enjoyed the journey. A footman met us in a dog-cart to convey Charles and myself on the last mile and three quarters to Morley Hall on the outskirts of the tiny village of Alston. Cassandra was waiting for us at the entrance to the imposing old mansion and I was immediately struck by the striking beauty of this shapely girl.

Charles had told me that his cousin was stunningly pretty and he had not exaggerated by a whit, for Cassandra is blessed with a finely formed face framed by a mass of shiny brown hair which falls in ringlets upon her shoulders. Her eyes are also a deep shade of brown and her clear complexion shows off her aquiline nose and full, sensuous lips. She was wearing a tightly fitting white blouse which accentuated her high, thrusting breasts and I had to tear my eyes away from her heaving bosoms as she ran forward to greet us.

'Charlie, how lovely to see you,' she cried as she threw her arms around him and gave him a huge welcoming hug before she turned to me and held out her hand. 'And you must be Henry Dashwood, I've heard so much about you from Charlie that I feel like I'm meeting an old acquaintance.' 'You're very kind, Miss Morley,' I replied as I shook her hand but she immediately said: 'Do call me Cassie, Henry, all my friends do and you will be my friend, won't you?' 'Oh yes, I would be honoured to be counted in that company,' I exclaimed and the lovely girl escorted us into the house whilst the footman took down our cases from the dog-cart. 'Polgrave, put Charles's case in the blue guest room and Henry's in the bedroom next to it,' Cassie instructed the footman as we followed her into the drawing room where a maid was standing behind two polished cake-stands, waiting to serve tea. Then she turned to us and added: 'Papa has had to go up to London on business and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon, but Mama will be here shortly. This summer she has been attending an art class in Brixham and hopes to bring back her latest picture with her when she returns in about half an hour.' As it happened, Mrs.

Morley arrived only fifteen minutes later as she had been driven home by another artist manque in his new motor car. When she came into the drawing room, I thought at first that she was Cassie's sister, for this attractive lady was certainly no more than forty, and has retained much of her youthful beauty. Her smouldering dark eyes were doubtless the result of her Italian ancestry and her flashing smile must have captured the hearts of many suitors before she married Cassandra's father. 'Aunt Elena, how nice to see you again,' said Charles, rising from his chair and striding forward to kiss his aunt on both cheeks a la francaise. 'Let me introduce my very good friend, Henry Dashwood. Henry, this is my aunt, Mrs. Elena Morley.' I bowed slightly as Elena Morley smiled at me and said in a pleasing, slightly husky voice: 'How do you do, Mr. Dashwood? Welcome to Morley Hall.' 'Thank you, it's a pleasure to be here, ma'am,' I said, and was it merely a figment of my imagination that a mutual spark was lit when our eyes met, and when we shook hands, Elena Morley caressed my fingers for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary? Only time will tell… Whilst I pondered on this matter, Cassie insisted that her Mama showed us her painting. It is a panoramic view of Brixham. To my (admittedly inexpert) eye, her canvas shows to perfection the picturesque view of the town, with the rows of houses irregularly terraced on the sides of the steep hills of the valley leading down to the harbour. Cassandra cocked her head to one side and said: 'This is your best picture yet, Mama. Perhaps you should send a selection of your work to your art dealer friend in London to see what they might fetch at auction. If they take the fancy of some passing connoisseur, all our financial problems will be solved!' 'My dear, I doubt if even the most amateur of collectors would be interested in my daubings,' laughed Elena. 'But nevertheless, I'm grateful for the compliment.' I cleared my throat and said: 'You must permit me to disagree, Mrs. Morley. 'I would be proud to have this picture on the walls of my living room. The brushwork is bold and clear and I find the use of bright, unshaded colour most pleasing.' 'So do I, Aunt,' chipped in Charles. 'And in my opinion, Cassie is quite right and you should send some samples of your work to a London dealer. What harm could it do? If he does not believe your pictures have any value, all he has to do is write a brief note and return them to you.' Elena frowned and looked hard at us. 'Do you really think so?' she asked doubtfully. 'Mr. Geogliegan is a very busy man, he's always travelling across Europe in search of good paintings, and I wouldn't want to waste his time.' Then Elena threw out her hands and said: 'Very well, I will go to the study and write to Mr.