The Chronicle

The Chronicle

October 1821, London

They had spent a very pleasant hour catching up on the latest fashion trends from Paris and gossip, but Serena’s guests had been glancing surreptitiously towards the mantel clock for the last ten minutes, she had noted with a tinge of regret. They were far more entertaining guests than her normal tonnish visitors.  However, now that the arrangements for their future contributions to ‘La Dernier Cri’ had been discussed and emoluments distributed, it was time for them to leave. As Autumn nights drew in, it wasn’t safe for young ladies to be walking the streets of London unattended. Serena had offered to have her town carriage brought to the back of the house to discreetly ferry them back to the little establishment on the northern fringes of the West End, where Madame Tiffany’s apprentices were carefully housed, but as usual they had refused. 

“Well, you must take the money for a hackney – I can’t have my best protegees set upon by heaven knows who.” she gave them a wry smile, “I’d have to start writing the articles and drawing debs all over again… heaven forfend!”

Catriona hesitated, but Meg gratefully accepted the few coins that were offered with a smile. “Thank you My Lady. It’s most kind of you.”

“Not at all. You know how I enjoy our little fortnightly sessions.”

They had all risen at this point, when a knock on the door of Serena’s private parlour was swiftly followed by its opening, and the presence of a large young man filled the doorway. He was a handsome man of some twenty years or so, his blue eyes, blonde hair, and a strong facial resemblance (in a more masculinised form, of course) making it a rather easy leap to guess that he was some close relation of Lady Serena.

He had just started to move forward, speaking his sister’s name when he came to an abrupt halt,

“Sere….. Oh, you have company. Sorry, I’ll come back another time… “ His eyes roved over the two young ladies who, though dressed fashionably, were  obviously not ladies of the ton, though both were stunningly good looking by anybody’s estimation. 

The blonde beauty immediately flashed him a dazzling smile and curtsied, whilst the more demure, but more exotic looking brunette looked embarrassed and lowered her almond shaped eyes whilst performing the most perfunctory of curtseys.

“Oh Felix, I wasn’t  expecting you! But do come in. As you can see, Miss Fraser and Miss Smith were just on the point of leaving.” She turned to the girls and said, “Catriona, Meg, may I present my brother, Lord Felix Brockworth. Felix, Miss Catriona Fraser and Miss Meg Smith.” 

“Pleased to meet you, My Lord.”  they said almost in unison. Felix nodded to both, though his eyes returned immediately to study the quiet dark beauty whose face was now slowly colouring as she became aware of his close scrutiny

Catriona who was clutching an artist's folio carrier, made to move, turning and thanking Serena for the tea, whilst Meg continued standing, enraptured, happy to ogle Felix for as long as she could. Felix however, was still watching Catriona with unabashed interest.

Serena, took up the reins of the conversation again, and said,

“You make yourself comfortable, Felix – ring for refreshments – I’m sure you are hungry. I’ll just see off my guests, and be with you in no time…..”

Five minutes later, having seen her young guests through to the servant’s entrance, she returned to interrogate her somewhat capricious youngest brother.

Felix had indeed made himself comfortable – he was sprawled on the delicate looking French sofa that Meg and Catriona had recently vacated. He had demolished the remaining tiny cakes that the ladies had failed to consume and told her reassuringly that she was not to worry - a footman had sent down to the kitchens for some sandwiches and a pot of coffee.

Serena rarely worried about her brother’s ability to access and consume vast quantities of food. She had spent most of her life witnessing the phenomenon, and had been quite amazed to find that her very new husband Hew, though of similar stature, managed to survive happily on about half the quantity that they did.

“So to what do I owe this unexpected, though delightful visit, Felix?” Serena asked, getting down to business immediately.

“Oh, nothing in particular. Just a courtesy visit, you know. Greet the newly weds home, and all that!” He paused looking around the room, taking in the tasteful understated furnishings and correctly assessed that that sort of elegance usually came with a very large price-tag. But then Hew was rich, very rich according to Theo. “Watford said that Hew was out…..”

“Ah, so it’s Hew that you’ve come to see really!”

“No. I came to see you both. You’re looking very well Serena – marriage suits you!” he gave her an impish grin, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Serena ignored this provocation, and went onto a counter-attack, “I suppose I shouldn’t ask you what you are getting up to, as it’s probably not fit for a lady’s ears.” she said with a sniff.

“Pot calling the kettle black, Serena – what with your little magazine, and heaven knows what you and Hew get up to. Ten days' honeymoon, and then having to be back in London because there are, and I quote, ‘things to do’. Very closely guarded, carefully unspecified things, needless to say” He gave his sister a knowing look.

“Well, I am sure I don’t know what you are talking about. There is nothing secret about Hew’s shipping business – his father established it long, long ago. And now, as a matron of the ton, there are certain expectations placed upon me. Plenty to keep me busy, without any clandestine activities, I can promise you.” Serena looked her brother square in the eye, “But back to my original question – what are you up to?”

“Oh, the usual, drinking, a bit of gaming, a few high jinks – nothing out of the ordinary. In some ways it’s getting a bit boring…” his voice trailed off.

“What you need my lad, is occupation. Do you have anything in mind?” Serena asked briskly.

“Just because you’re married to a man who’s addicted to work, doesn’t mean that we have to be all cut from the same cloth, you know.” Felix said defensively, “I’ve just not quite found anything that I particularly want to do. The professions don’t attract me, and I’m too wayward to be quietly taking orders from some idiot in the army, and oh, could you imagine me as a man of the cloth!” he said with a derisory laugh. “No, I need something to tax my brain .. I was wondering if Hew had any ideas.”

“I shall ask him.” said Serena, genuinely pleased that Felix was at least thinking about something beyond the life of dissipation led by newly free young gentlemen let loose to taste the various ‘diversions’ of the Capital.

“By the way, who were the young ladies? Not normal tonnish afternoon callers, I’d hazard. And  it’s Sunday – not a day for those anyway.”

Serena was always slightly surprised when Felix came up with some astute social observation. He was known in the family as the most seemingly laid back of the siblings, who feigned a disinterest in most of the normal occupations of the Upper Classes. His studiously casual mask hid a very nimble intellect, cutting observation, and a lively interest in all the technological innovations that seemed to be emerging on a daily basis. He made a point of not mentioning his First Class Honours in Natural Sciences to anyone - one wouldn’t want people to think one was some sort of dusty academic type, would one?

His needle-sharp assessment of Catriona and Meg’s status was not, therefore, totally unexpected.

“Oh, Catriona and Meg – they are my former star pupils from the Charity school. I’m keeping a close eye on their careers.” she said, picking up her embroidery, “They appreciate my interest which is why they spare me a little of their few hours off work, now and again.”

Serena could feel that Felix was less than satisfied by this answer, but to her relief, decided to let it go for the time being.

“The dark-haired one, Catriona – there’s something different about her…” he said casually, “I’ve seen those almond eyes and eyebrows somewhere else, but I can’t think where.”

Serena’s head shot up, “Really – you thought that too?” she grinned at her brother, “What other impressions did you get?” 

Felix sat back in the chair and pretended to be thinking deeply as a footman brought in his coffee and sandwiches. Eventually he continued, between mouthfuls of the rather extensive light repast presented to him,

“She holds herself like a lady. The other one, Meg, well you can see that she’s been trained well, but Catriona looks like she could be at home wearing a duchess’s tiara, or similar, if you know what I mean. How did she end up at your Charity School?”

"That's a very good question - it's all a bit mysterious....."

So Serena related Catriona’s story as far as she was able, whereupon they spent some time imagining increasingly ridiculous scenarios that might have led to an aristocrat’s offspring being cast adrift in the hostile world of the East End of London. Fliss would have been quite interested in some of their plot lines for her Gothic Romances.

At length, they were joined by Hew, who fell into contemplating the potential of steam engines as a means of propulsion for his ships. After a lengthy discussion of the potential benefits versus the inherent problems, the dressing gong sounded, and Felix, hearing that his elder brother, Nathaniel, was expected for dinner, decided that a quick departure was in order.

“When he’s not prosing on about me getting some respectable occupation, he’s talking politics.” he gave a shiver of disgust , and then proceeded to give his sister what Hew had dubbed ‘the Brockworth Bear-hug.’

As Serena accompanied Felix to the door, he turned to her.

“You know, I got the most queer feeling when I saw your Catriona, like someone walking over your grave, as the saying goes. Her face - there is an echo somewhere in our childhood. It’s going to bother me, until I remember.” he said with a furrowed brow.

Serena raised her eyebrows, but didn't comment on his observation. As a good elder sister she advised him, “Be good, and if you can’t be good, make sure Theo doesn’t hear of it!” she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and he was gone into the night.

As Felix made his way back to St James’s, Catriona Fraser’s face seemed to hover in the night before him. It was odd. Young ladies, quality or otherwise didn’t occupy his thoughts much - he had assiduously avoided all the usual pitfalls associated with them. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the normal urges in that direction - he most certainly did. 

No, it was the simple fact that as soon as he tried to hold any sort of meaningful conversation with them, he found their simpering nonsense which passed for conversation, killed off any interest he may have had in them, within seconds. 

But Catriona Fraser - well he was fairly certain she was something quite different. Time would tell - but somehow he was sure of it. 

Copyrightⓒ Detta Adams 2025 

April

 The Chronicle Part 1

The Chronicle

Part Two

Early December, 1821

Theo Brockworth, 3^rd Marquess of Norcombe was annoyed. Very annoyed. He had just left Norcombe House, relieved to be at last on his way back home to the Cotswolds, where his beloved wife, Isabel, awaited him, when a familiar figure had leapt from a hackney, and waylaid him before he could escape London in his carriage. Aware of the Marquess’s uncharacteristic scowl, Longsides, Felix’s valet, stood up a little straighter, and bravely addressed the man who actually paid his wages,

My Lord, I would not trouble you unless the case was urgent. However, I feel the current situation is in grave peril of becoming dangerous for Lord Felix, and I thought that you should be made aware of the facts…” Theo gave the man a long look and noted the resolution in the man’s demeanour. Something certainly was amiss. He gave a long suffering sigh, muttered an almost indiscernible oath, and said,

"Well, I suppose I should deal with it sooner rather than later, whatever it is. The last thing I need is to be coming back to London in a few days time.” he moved to enter his carriage, throwing, adding as he turned to seat himself, “You’d better tell me the whole story on the way back to Felix’s rooms.” With that Longsides joined the Marquess in his beautifully fitted carriage and spent the next ten minutes or so recounting the long sad tale of Felix’s descent into deep trouble over the last month.

It was not long before the Marquess’s large figure was dominating the rather modest rooms which Felix kept just off Piccadilly. The rather Spartan rooms were tidy – no doubt due to the ministrations of Longsides, apart from the figure slumped, dead to the world, across a small square table, upon which were scattered some playing cards an empty bottle of what smelled like cheap claret, and an overturned glass the contents of which had spread across the table turning Felix’s light blonde hair a rather fetching shade of pink.

Lifting his brother’s head by grasping him by the scruff of his jacket, Theo unstuck his brother from the table and was only slightly surprised when even this rough handling failed to rouse his fully intoxicated sibling. He unceremoniously and in less than a gentle manner returned his brother’s upper body to the table. Regardless of this rough handling, Felix slept on. He was indeed dead drunk.

"How long has he been like this?” Theo asked.

"I think the last of his Lordship’s guests left about four. I found him like this shortly afterwards. Unfortunately I was not able to move him on my own.” Longsides said with genuine regret.

Theo gave the matter a little thought, "No, leave him like this. The pain in his neck will a good reminder of his folly over the next few days. Let’s not make things too easy for him.” he said with just a hint of sibling malice.

He looked round the room with some disdain, making some fairly unpleasant, though necessary, decisions as he did so. Theo never enjoyed playing the dictatorial big brother.

"You said that some debts had accumulated?” he looked towards Longsides who moved quickly to open a drawer in a small side table, and pulled out a healthy stack of papers, which he tidied into a neat pile before handing them over to the Marquess.

"Some of the men he owes money too, do not play by gentlemanly rules…. My Lord” he looked the Marquess in the eye, ensuring that the Marquess understood the full extent of Felix’s predicament. Theo merely raised one eyebrow and pursed his lips, returning his attention to the stack of unpaid vowels and bills.

Theo gave them a disapproving look, stuffed them in a pocket of his greatcoat, and addressed Longsides.

"Right then Longsides, this is what is going to happen. I will deal with these,” he patted his pocket, “And with the Landlord. You won’t be coming back here. Your job is to dry Lord Felix out, advise him to stop worrying about his debts, and tell him that he is expected to return to the New Hall within the next week, in a state fit for his mother to see him.” He gave Longsides a wry grin. “You may use the small travelling carriage from Norcombe House. Sorry, it won’t be the most comfortable of journeys but I hope you will point out to Felix that it would be a whole lot worse if he had been forced to travel by stage.” He saw Longsides concern.

"Don’t worry, I’m not going to haul him over the coals. We all have had our less than admirable moments.” He thought for a second or two and then added, “No, this was inevitable in some ways. Felix has too lively a mind to be left without direction for extended periods – he was bound to find some sort of trouble or other. This episode will probably be the making of him…” he said in a distracted manner.

With that he gave Longsides a reassuring smile, passed him a five pound note and departed.

After having a ten minute interview with Felix’s landlord and parting with more cash, Theo returned to Norcombe House, where he simply passed the impressive stack of debts over to his long suffering Secretary to sort out. He advised him of his plans for Felix, and looked forward to seeing him in the Cotswolds within the next week.

Checking the hall clock as he bid another farewell to his butler Archer, he gave an inward smile. ‘Good, weather permitting I still should be home in time to enjoy dinner tomorrow night with my own lovely Isabel!’

***

By the time the lumbering coach reached Norcombe Abbey New Hall, just as the midwinter light was beginning to fail, Felix had sobered up considerably. However, the jolting caused by the much weathered road surface unfortunately did not help the aching crick in his neck, which Longsides’ universal paregoric had failed to completely eliminate, even though four full days had elapsed since Theo’s visitation.

So it was a pale, slightly drawn Felix who was welcomed by Winters, the New Hall butler.

"Welcome home, My Lord. I trust the journey was without incident,”

"Yes, indeed it was without incident. However, I could not, in all honesty, say it was comfortable journey, either.”

He trundled into the massive entrance hall, noting the distinct lack of its customary activity,

"Where is everybody, Winters?”

"Oh, nearly everyone has gone to dress for dinner. It will be served at six as usual, but there is to be a family meeting in the blue drawing room at five, so everyone has retired a little earlier today.”

"A family meeting?” Felix asked – this was an unexpected development.

"Er, Yes. I believe the Marquess just wants to go over the arrangements for the arrivals over the next few days.”

"It’s a bit early for the Christmas celebrations isn’t it?”

"Quite so, My Lord. As I understand it – the planned activities over the next few days are not part of the Christmas celebrations, though most of the family in attendance, will be remaining for those, of course.”

Felix looked bemused, not being able to quite work out what his elder brother was up to. However, as it gave him a bit of a reprieve from facing the inevitable lecture from Theo, he decided to follow the example of the rest of the family, and retire to his rooms.

"Well in that case, I shall retire also. Five o-clock you said?”

"Yes, My Lord. I shall ring the gong at ten minutes before the hour. Would you like some refreshments, sending up, in the meantime?”

Felix’s face brightened, “Good idea Winters. Some sandwiches and a pot of coffee?”

Winters smiled and gave a slightly creaky bow,

"Of, course, My Lord.”

***

Felix arrived in the drawing room precisely as the hall clock chimed five-o-clock. Most of the family were there, excluding Serena, Hew and Nathaniel. Theo and Isabel came over to greet him, a wry smile, accompanied by the upward twitch of Theo’s eyebrows told him that he was in a genial mood.

Felix gave an inward sigh of relief – the grand remonstrance was obviously going to be conducted later and in private.

After greeting his sisters, he went over to his mother, and bent over to give her a filial kiss on the cheek. “

"Mama, you must have a magic potion – you look younger every time I see you!”

"Scamp! I hope you are not practising those sort of tricks on the innocent misses of the ton!”

To himself Felix thought that it was probably oxymoronic to label most misses of the ton as innocent, but wisely he did not voice the idea.

"Not in the petty-coat line, Mama. There are sharks patrolling those particular waters, and I know when to keep a safe distance.”

Lady Rosamund, hearing this, observed acidly, “No, from what I gather, you are wading, neck deep, in quite a different, but equally suspect pond!”

"Rosamund!” said Theo sharply, with a silencing look, “That is none of your concern, and not a suitable topic for young ladies to be discussing.”

Rosamund, pursed her lips and sent Theo a speaking look, but actually said nothing.

"Now then Felix, you’re probably wondering what on earth is going on…” he paused for a second or two to ensure that he had Felix’s attention.

"Over the next few days, Serena, Hew and Nathaniel will be arriving, accompanied by Charles Entwistle-Otford, Lord Thrapsley. There is to be a very important meeting, so I want everybody to be co-operative if the usual routine gets upturned slightly.” He noted Felix’s eyebrows shooting up – Lord Thrapsley had inherited the title after his predecessor had died during an abortive attempt to force Isabel to marry him.* So, though Charles wasn’t strictly speaking family, he had gradually become an honorary member, as Theo, Nathaniel and Hew had found him to be like-minded, pleasant and useful in conducting their Parliamentary and business affairs.

"Well if Charles is coming then it must be business.” Felix observed ‘Sounds quite boring…” he muttered under his breath.

"Boring or not, you will be attending. We need your scientific understanding.” Theo said evenly, silently noting the slight widening of Felix’s pupils, and a slight frown etching his brow – a sure sign that Felix was intrigued. Got him, thought Theo with satisfaction. Felix, the most mercurial member of the family had always baulked at being ordered about. More manipulative strategies had to be employed to get his attention.

Theo then outlined his expectations of the rest of the family, pleased to note that both his sisters were happy that they too were to be involved in the final meeting, when their interest in the affair would be revealed.

And then Winters entered the room to announce dinner, and all talk of the affair was promptly dropped. Felix spent a happy meal regaling the family with some of his less reprehensible exploits whilst he had been on the town. He also reflected upon the fact that it was pleasant to eat decent food once more, and drink something that might not poison his liver permanently.

However, after dinner, the inevitable summons to Theo’s study was made and he found himself standing in front of Theo’s desk waiting for the dressing down. He should have known better – Theo had given up shouting at him years previously. He was not a man to waste his breath.

"Sit down, Felix. Port, brandy?” Felix happily took the comfortable wing-back chair facing Theo.

"A brandy, if you please.” He said with a confidence he did not feel.

Theo unfolded himself from his slightly disreputable, but comfortable chair and poured them both a small measure of his reserved vintage. Passing the glass to Felix he asked casually,

"How much do you know about steam power, and it’s current usage?”

After savouring a small sip of the brandy, Felix waited till Theo had re-seated himself, and then spoke.

"A fair amount. It’s been used widely, mainly for pumping water out of mines in various parts of the country. However, it’s potential is far greater than that. There have been various schemes to use in manufacturing processes, but none have been perfected as yet, as far as I understand.”

"Mmm that’s what we thought. I’d like you to look at some documents that we have become privy to – they are various schemes that are looking for investors, and all involve steam power in some form or another. I’d like you to look at them, and give the meeting your views on them…”

"You want my opinion on potential investments!” Felix said incredulously.

"No, not on the investments – Hew’s far better that almost anyone I can think of in assessing that sort of thing, “No -we’d like you too look at the mechanics to see if there are any obvious flaws.” Theo could see Felix’s concern – after all Felix had no real life experience of engineering. “Look we’re not asking you to give an authoritative opinion on these projects, but you know more than we do. We just want to know which are the complete non-starters and those which are worth looking into.”

"And what happens if I say say something might have promise?”

"Well, we look into it a bit further – that’s all for now. No snap decisions.”

"Mmm,” Felix looked half convinced, “Why this sudden interest in industry?”

"Because, dear brother, farming prices have been going down steadily over the last fifty years, and I have no reason to believe that the trend will alter. We cannot rely on farming receipts to sustain our way of life. And really, it's not so sudden as it might appear. We've been using more machinery for years - take seed drill for example - they've worked wonders." Theo gave a contemplative smile, and then continued in a serious vein, "The quarries do well, but they are not going to cover the potential shortfall in the long term. Grandfather started looking into canals early on, and the rapidly increasing income from them has been very useful to keep the estate thriving. But things are changing, and we cannot afford to rest on our laurels. We need to use all our resources, as a family, to ensure that we get in early on future developments, if we are to reap the potential rewards.”

"Can’t you just wait to see what does well?”

"Well, we could, but by that time the price of investment will have gone up considerably. Backing the winners early is risky, but then the rewards are so much greater, if everything works out.”

Felix took another sip of his brandy.

"So what are these projects?”

Theo opened a drawer of his massive desk, and pulled out a pile of folders. Felix gave the pile a dubious look. “That seems a lot of potential investments.” he said giving his eldest brother a questioning look.

"There are ten items there for your perusal. We would like your assessment of them. At this stage we don’t know whether any of them have the potential that their proposers say they have. We need to sort out the wheat from the chaff – and that is complex process. That is what this meeting is about.”

"Why are so many people involved? Grandfather took all the decisions about such things, as did father. And you seem to have a reasonably good grip on things...”

"Why thank you, little brother, for your ringing endorsement." Theo said slightly sarcastically, but with a grin. “However, all will be revealed at the meeting proper, when the scheme and our collective rationale will be revealed to all. But I can tell you that your technical input is crucial.” he prodded the pile of files, “You have a lot of reading to do in the meantime, brother.” Theo stood, picked up the pile of folders and ceremoniously placed them directly in front of Felix.

"That’s it, then? No grand remonstrance? No lecture?” Felix asked with some surprise.

"No. Think of it this way Felix. You will be working off your debts, and if your talents are half as good as I am led to believe, you will not only be assisting this family to retain its position financially and socially, but you may in time, make quite a nice fortune for yourself in the process.”

Felix looked unconvinced, but having got off so lightly, he just gave Theo a small bow, and rising to his feet said with a slight grin. “Well, thank you Theo – I shall do my poor best.”

And with that he grabbed the pile of folders, tucked them under his arm, and marched off towards his room. As he trudged distractedly up the stairs he wondered what Theo was really up to.

 

 

The Chronicle

Part Three

 Norcombe Abbey New Hall, December 1822

It had been trying to snow for the last hour. Half hearted flurries of small snowflakes periodically fell from a leaden sky, and promptly melted on the already wet grass leading down to the small bridge which joined the New Hall’s lands to that of the Old Hall’s. Lady Rosamund Brockworth walked carefully down the slippery slope, refraining from stomping angrily as was her first instinct. She had no intention of arriving at the Old Hall covered in mud. Phamie, though a lovely, person, would have no compunction in taking her to task on her carelessness.

Not for the first time, Rosamund considered Phamie’s position as an unofficial member of the Brockworth family. She had started off as Isabel’s, Theo’s wife, lady’s maid. On inheriting The Old Hall from her first husband, Isabel had insisted on Phamie becoming her companion, though her real role evolved quickly into Isabel’s deputy, unofficial doctor to the village, and the go to person if anyone wanted to vent their spleen, or get some sound advice.

Though not much older than Isabel, and largely self-educated, no-one ever denied that Phamie was quite a phenomenon. Sage-like in her wisdom, direct to the point of rudeness; she was, on the other hand, unfailingly kind and loyal. No-one was in any doubt that anything that they said to her in confidence would be held safely in her bosom till the crack of doom.

Despite the coldness of the weather, Rosamund found Phamie in her preferred domain of an outbuilding which she had transformed bit by bit into her personal herbal kingdom. Here she not only prepared the salves, potions and tinctures for which she was famous, but also conducted scientific investigations. Rosamund had found her on more than one occasion peering down a microscope, whilst muttering under her breath and making drawings and notes in one of her many notebooks. Rosamund had enquired as to where she had obtained the microscope – an expensive scientific piece equipment, that was probably far beyond the pocket of even the best paid lady’s companion. Phamie had fixed her with a hard look and then merely replied,

“Not all who have benefitted from my potions are poor you know. And if they ask if they could get me anything that would help with my work, I tell them. Of course, the gentleman who supplied me with that beauty,” she pointed to the exquisitely engineered optical instrument encased in mahogany and brass, “baulked a bit when I requested it, but knowing he could afford it easily, my conscience did not twinge the slightest bit. And I’m sure he counted it as a mere bagatelle when his much longed-for son and heir was born some eight months later.” She grinned at Rosamund and gave her a wink.

Rosamund was shocked at Phamie’s implication – but then she reminded herself that Phamie didn’t hold that young ladies of quality should be spared knowledge of the realities of life. “Forewarned is forearmed” was one of her favourite aphorisms.

But on this occasion Rosamund had been summoned by the dour Scottish herbalist – apparently she and Judith had discovered ‘something of interest’ during the process of clearing out the Earl’s room ready for re-decoration after a roof leak had rendered it imperative that attention be paid to a room that had been largely ignored until disaster had struck.

Quickly, Phamie stowed away her herbs and oils and tidied up her bench space. Suddenly she gave a little shiver as if noticing for the first time the near arctic conditions in her workshop.

“Come, we’ll have a nice cup of tea, and I’ll show you the latest treasure that the Old Hall has yielded up.” Her eyes twinkled as she grabbed an old redingote from a hook, shrugged herself into it, and proceeded out, carefully locking the door behind her.

“Is that necessary? Locking up your workshop, I mean.”

“Absolutely! Though herbs can cure in the right doses – they can also kill in the wrong ones. A point to remember when you set up your own household one day.”

“Hmphh!” Rosamund grunted with disdain, “I wouldn’t put any wagers on that eventuality Phamie. Young men seem to find other distractions when they see me. I shall probably end up an old maid.”

“Like me, you mean?”

“No.” She gave her companion a long look, “You know that everyone thinks that there is something going on between you and the Doctor – beyond the bickering, before you say it! If only both of you would swallow your pride, try to be a nice, and see how things might develop, you might be quite pleasantly surprised.” She said with a cheeky grin.

Phamie declined to answer her, merely shooting a cynical look, and soon they were cosily ensconced in one of the smaller parlours, their outer garments surrendered to Babbage, and a tea tray was on its way.

As Rosamund seated herself Phamie extracted a muslin covered object leaning against the wall beside a well polished oak sideboard. From the shape and size Rosamund hazarded a guess that the new treasure was a small picture of some sort. Her excitement built – they thought they had long ago discovered every picture that the Old Hall possessed. Her thoughts were confirmed as Phamie whipped off the muslin cover and swivelled the picture to reveal a small portrait of a long haired girl dressed in Tudor men’s clothing, holding a sword menacingly, whilst she stared out of the canvas, almost challenging the viewer. The  subject of the painting had telling reddish long flowing hair – a swash-buckling lady to inspire, if ever Rosamund saw one! 

Lady Thomasina Brockworth, nee Tregannon, pictured in her swashbuckling days as a lady privateer.

 

“Oh, Lady Thomasina – how wonderful.” She took the proffered picture and gazed at it with avid interest. Lady Thomasina was a bit of an obsession of Rosamund’s since they had found a miniature of her when Isabel had allowed them to ransack the attics shortly after she had taken up residence at the Old Hall.

From snippets of information found in the incomplete Brockworth Family papers and entries in the Family Bible, it transpired that Lady Thomasina, or Thomasina Tregannon as she had been before her marriage, had once been a lady privateer in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. This enigmatic adventuress had married Lord Henry Brockworth, Second Viscount Chelt, and become the first Lady who lived in the Old Hall (which had been new at the time) and settled down apparently to become a conventional country Tudor lady.

Despite that fascinating transition, it was Thomasina’s life pre- marriage that caught Rosamund's interest – how had she become a privateer? How had she met Henry Brockworth, who was to all intents and purposes a rising courtier and increasingly influential landowner and businessmen? Where on earth did they cross paths? There was a magnificently romantic tale to be discovered – she was absolutely convinced about that.

“Where did you find it?” she asked Phamie casually.

“Well, that’s what’s of interest. You know that lovely old carved chest with the domed top, well one of the footmen accidentaly dropped and when they picked up, something had shifted inside. So we opened it up and a false bottom was revealed, and there it was. Someone, for some unknown reason decided to hide itthere – God knows when or why.”

“How odd. Why would they hide it? Unless it was one of the Slims, again.” She gazed at the picture again and twisted her lips, “Well, it confirms the legend that Thomasina was once a privateer, but it still doesn’t answer all the interesting questions, does it? Like why and when and where and how did she meet Henry Brockworth.” She took a deep breath. “I’m just going to have to write to the current Keeper of Kothgorr again.”

“The Keeper of Kothgorr you say.” Phamie said in somewhat melodramatic tones, “Kothgorr - that sounds like a grim and wild, desolate sort of place. Where is it?”

“Oh at the end of England – literally. On the coast of the toe of Cornwall. I don’t know about the castle being grim, but its owner is certainly extremely rude – he doesn’t reply to polite enquiries at all.”

“Ah well, maybe you’ll find your answers some other way.” Phamie tried to sound optimistic, but Rosamund wasn’t fooled, and so she decided to change the subject onto the current toings and froings from the New Hall.

Later that evening, sitting at the tiny desk in her chamber, she dipped the nib of her newly cut quill and started to write.

To: His Lordship Petroc Tregannon, Viscount Tregannon, Keeper of Kothgorr.

My Lord,

I write to you again about our mutual Tudor relation, Thomasina Tregannon who married my ancestor Lord Henry Brockworth, Second Viscount Chelt, to become Lady Thomasina Brockworth, Viscountess Chelt. As I have stated before, I am trying to discover how a lady privateer from the tip of Cornwall came to even meet a gentleman farmer and landowner from largely land-locked Gloucestershire.

Perhaps they met at Queen Elizabeth's court - Lord Henry certainly spent sometime there, but did Thomasina?

I would be very grateful if you could furnish me with any information on the subject, or any information at all about Lady Thomasina.

Yours hopefully,

Lady Rosamund Brockworth

It was short and to the point. She would get Theo to frank it and send it off tomorrow. As she looked at the letter again and then at the picture she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise once more. Isabel, all too aware of Rosamund's obsession, had kindly agreed that she could hang it in her room. It was foolish she knew, but somehow or other she felt a deep connection with her swashbuckling ancestor. Heavens knew why, but she was absolutely certain that she was destined to play a major role in uncovering the story of the enigmatic Thomasina. There had to be more information about her somewhere, didn’t there?

But what if the rude Lord Kothgorr continued to be unhelpful - how on earth was she to find out more? 

Copyright Detta Adams November 2025