We didn't take the main path down to the village. Instead, we took a small side path along the edge of a small clump of trees I hadn't seen before. Beyond the trees stretched wide, open fields, and dotted among the fields were a number of strange heaps of dirt. Smoke was rising from some of them.

'What are those?' I asked, pointing to the misshapen dirt piles.

The vicar blinked at me, confused. 'Err...well, I said I was going to take you to Lord Ambrose's tenants, did I not?'

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. 'Wait a second. Those are houses?'

'Holy Moly.' Amy whistled. 'I've stayed in some seriously shady places, but dis...dis takes the cake.'

'No,' I corrected. 'The mouldy bread. I doubt anyone around here could afford cake.'

It didn't take us long to reach the first dwelling. Throwing a glance at Karim, the vicar cleared his throat. 'Ladies and gentlemen, would you be so kind as to stay back a little? Some of you look a little, um...intimidating.'

Patsy nodded, looking pleased. 'Certainly. I'll stay out of sight. You, big bearded fellow! Move up to the front, will you?'

Turning back to the thing which, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, apparently was a house, the vicar knocked on the door. I could have sworn the whole building wobbled.

There were a few moments of silence—then footsteps approached from inside, and the door opened a crack.

'Y-yes?'

'It's me,' the reverend said, leaning forward with a reassuring smile. The door opened a bit wider. 'I've brought some visitors from the manor.'

The door slammed shut, hard and fast. Frantic shuffling came from inside. It sounded as if a whole family was trying to hide under one three-legged stool.

'It's not Lord Ambrose!' the vicar called over the noise.

The shuffling ceased.

A few moments, footsteps approached again, more hesitant than before. A crack appeared in the door.

'A-are you sure?'

'Pretty sure.' Sticking my head into the crack beside the vicar's, I sent a smile at the one eye that was visible through the opening. 'Unless I've grown some extra parts since last I checked.'

'M-my Lady! Vicar! You should have said there's a lady outside!'

'There isn't, actually,' I corrected.

'Th-there isn't?'

'No. Not one. Nine.'

'Nine?'

'Aber ja doch, as Prince Albert would say.'

'P-please forgive me, My Lady!' Instantly, the door was torn open. A diminutive woman in a dress made of some unidentifiable brownish-grey textile scuttled backwards, gesturing for us to enter. 'Please, come in, come in! I beg of you, please forgive the state the house is in. We, um...have had some problems recently.'

'Oh, it's not that bad,' I told her, just before a rotten piece of wooden lintel fell onto my head and bounced off. The woman in front of me made a hasty curtsy. At a guess, I would have said she was about thirty, although the drab dress and shadowy surroundings made her appear about ten years older. It felt odd being bowed to by a woman several years my senior—though I might be willing to get used to it from Aunt Brank.

My gaze was drawn back to the woman, who was still busy curtsying. Apparently, she thought one wasn't quite enough. 'Who do I 'ave da 'onor of 'avin' in me 'ouse, My Lady?'

'My name is Lilly.' Smiling, I returned her curtsey. 'Miss Lilly Linton.'

'Miss Lin— the new Lord's fiancée?'

It was more a squeak than a question. She scuttled back, towards the other people in the room that I now noticed for the first time. Behind me, the vicar entered the hut.

'Just look at that, Miss Linton.' Sadly, the vicar shook his head, glancing around at the pitiable state of repair the cottage was in. 'Have you ever seen such a miserable little dwelling?'

My mind flashed to a certain miniature room up in the manor, with bare walls, nothing but a thin, moth-eaten mat on the ground, and cold, practically freezing air.

'Yes.' Swallowing, I nodded. 'Yes, I have.'

'And to imagine that the lord all over all these lands lives in excess and luxury while his tenants house in such miserable conditions.'

'Terrible. Terrible,' I muttered, only listening with half an ear. My attention was still on the miserable vision before my inner eye. Was this it? This was the way Mr Ambrose had lived his whole life, so he didn't know how to help anyone rise beyond it? Not even himself?

Well, Lilly, you did promise yourself you'd make a home for him, didn't you?

My eyes fell on the family huddled together in the corner of the room. A mother and a father, with two little girls hiding in the mother's skirts.

Technically, these people are part of his home, aren't they? After all, he owns the building. It's practically my wifely duty to take care of them.

Of course, he might have different views on the subject. But that had never really stopped me, right?

'Well now!' Rubbing my hands together, I glanced around the little cabin. Right then, something dropped through the roof and landed with a thud on the floor. Maybe a dead bird. Maybe a part of the roof. It was hard to identify. 'Patsy?'

'Aye aye, ma'am?'

'Do you remember the trip we made to St Catherine's Orphanage for Girls to help renovate and raise consciousness for women's rights?'

'You mean the trip that resulted in us being banned from the orphanage for life?'

'Yes, that one! Do you still have all your spiffing renovations skills?'

Patsy cracked her knuckles. The man of the house swiftly stepped in front of his two little children, his wide, fearful eyes on Patsy.

'Most certainly I do.'

'Anyone else?' I looked around. To my surprise, the slim white hand that shot into the air belonged to none other than my little sister.

'Me, Lill!' Her big eyes brimming with compassion, she gazed around the family's little space. 'I'm not good with anything outdoors, but I can clean and dust, mend cloth and paint, and lots of other things.'

Amy's hand shot into the air, too. 'I ain't afraid to get my 'ands dirty.'

'Excellent!' I said, preferring to not think about what exactly she could mean by that, considering where those hands had been.

'Me too! Me too!' Eve jumped up and down excitedly. 'Let's all help!'

'But...ladies, ladies!' The vicar took a hurried step forward, his face paling. 'I wasn't thinking that you yourself would...I thought that maybe you'd put in a good word with your fiancé, Miss Linton, nothing more. You can't go around trying to repair all that needs attention here. That's men's work!'

Silence sank over the interior of the cottage. Nine pairs of snipers' search lights, also called female eyes, snapped to the vicar and froze him in place. Karim covered his face and muttered a curse in Punjabi.

'What did you say, Reverend?'

'Err...I...um...'

'I heard distinctly what he said.' Smiling, Patsy stepped forward, gripping the clergyman's shoulder. 'He said he'd be delighted to accept our help, didn't he?'

'Yes, exactly!' Lunging forward, the vicar grabbed the lifeline. 'That's what I said.'

'Excellent!' Clapping her hands, Adaira pushed open the door. 'Let's get to work, shall we?'

'But...but...' The vicar's attempts to slam his heels into the ground and brake were foiled by Patsy, who tightened her grip and started to tug him towards the door. The little family followed at a safe distance. 'No matter how determined you ladies are, volunteer work won't do it. There's real damage done to these houses. We need the professional help of experts who know how to handle such matters.'

'Excellent point.' Smiling, I gestured up the path that led to the main village. 'So why don't you run along and assemble the craftsmen from the village. I'm sure they'll be willing to help if you let them know that I'd be most grateful.'

'Err...I'm not sure they—'

'Perhaps I should rephrase. I will be most grateful, and my fiancé won't hear about them saying no to me.'

'Oh.' The vicar nodded. 'Certainly, Miss Linton. Right away!'

'Of course, if they wish to bill me for their services, they are welcome to present their demands up at the manor. I'm sure Lord Ambrose would be most happy to listen to them.'

We all watched the vicar hurrying off down the road. Grinning, Amy turned back towards me.

'Lilly...you're a genius!'

'Oh, you think that was genius?' Innocently, I folded my arms behind my back. 'Adaira?'

'Yes?'

'Do you think you could tell a good lie?'

She gave me a look.

'Forget I asked. Could you do me a favour?'

'I'm at your service.'

'Great! Then please go up to the manor. To my aunt's room, in fact.'

'What?' Adaira wrinkled her nose. 'Why?'

'Well, of course to let her know all about the Duchess of Fingleton and the Marchioness of Manglewood and their charitable efforts. Isn't it wonderful, the example those two noble ladies set? Originally, they just came to attend my wedding, but now they've noticed the plight in the village, and are helping to restore it to its former glory. And they've promised to invite all other volunteers to their hunt ball in on the Duchess's estate this summer.'

'Lilly...there is no Duchess of Fingleton or Marchioness of Manglewood.'

I gave her a smile as innocent as a child with its hand stuck in the cookie jar. 'But my aunt doesn't need to know that, does she? And neither do any of the other ladies who are staying up at the manor, who have plenty of free time and daughters to marry off.'

Slowly, an answering grin spread over Adaira's face. 'Have I mentioned that I'm really really glad you're going to be my sister?'

'Only about three dozen times.'

'Make that thirty-seven!'

Five minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, my aunt came marching up the path, a gaggle of ladies not far behind her.

'Where is the duchess?' she demanded, her vulture-like eyes gleaming with the devious dreams of a social climber. Well, as a dutiful niece I should help my dear aunt, right?

'Last time I saw her, on the roof.' Smiling, I grabbed a rickety ladder leaning against the wall and handed it to her. 'Busy thatching.'

'Thatching?'

'Putting straw on a roof so the rain doesn't drop in,' I explained, always willing to be helpful.

'I know what thatching is!'

'Excellent! I'm so happy to hear you'll be of help.'

Pushing the ladder into her scrawny hands, I manoeuvred her towards the wall. She was up two rungs before she knew what was happening.

'A duchess thatching?'

'Of course! The best-respected women of high society are all invested in charitable work. Just look at yourself, Aunt.'

She opened her mouth—then closed it again.

'Happy thatching.' I clapped her on the back.

***

It was truly amazing how fast a horde of social-climbing middle-aged Victorian ladies could learn to thatch a roof. Or rather, it was amazing how fast they could make their sons and daughters do it, while they mostly walked around, gossiping and criticizing the work. When, under the instruction of the farmers, the first roof was done, the ladies moved on to the interior of the cottage, cleaning, dusting, painting, polishing and doing everything else they could think of to make the place shine.

'So...' Watching the action with a twinkle in her eyes, Adaira leaned over. 'What are you going to do when they find out there is no Duchess of Fingleton or Marchioness of Manglewood?'

I shrugged. 'By that time, most of the work will already be done.'

'Yes, but they'll be furious! Once the wedding is over and done with, most likely, none of these women will ever want anything to do with you ever again. They won't invite you to their balls, or talk to you, or...' Her voice drained away, and, slowly, a grin spread across her face. 'You truly are an evil genius.'

'Thanks so much for the compliment.' I smirked. 'And if, God forbid, I will have an attack of insanity one day and feel the uncontrollable urge to visit one of their balls...Well, by that time I will be the Marchioness Ambrose. Do you think they'd be likely to refuse me?'

Adaira's silence was answer enough. What a nice family trait.

Apparently, society ladies weren't the only people unlikely to refuse me these days. Not long after we had finished with the first cottage, the artisans from the main village arrived. Carpenters, masons, painters, thatchers, they all came and went to work immediately. Soon, the servants from the manor followed, led by Benson. With Adaira, Amy, Patsy and me at the helm, we spread out across the countryside, going from cottage to cottage. The poor tenants didn't quite know what hit them. Some of them acted as if they were afraid we were actually going to hit them. Apparently, they were far more accustomed to landowners rearranging their facial features rather than renovating their houses.

'No, no,' I assured the terrified eye peeking through the crack in the door. 'We don't want to reclaim your house. We want to repair it.'

'I swear, my husband will pay the rent soon! It's not his fault he's behind. The children have been ill, and we...and we...'

'Sick children?'

I was unceremoniously elbowed out of the way from behind. Blinking, I straightened myself, expecting to see Patsy, Adaira or Amy or another dangerous elbow-wielder—only to see my little sister Ella rushing into the cottage. In a moment, she was standing at the side of a bed that contained lots of old blankets and three little red noses peeking out from between the folds. She fell to her knees beside the bed.

'Oh, you poor little darlings! Has the doctor been to see you yet?'

The mother bit her lip, somehow looking timid and ashamed, although she hadn't been the one to barge into a stranger's house without an invitation.

'We...we're simple folk, My Lady, and the only doctor lives two towns over. We couldn't even afford to travel there, let alone to pay his fee.'

'Oh, you poor, poor dears!' Ella was in full mother-hen mode by now. 'Don't worry about things like that!' She waved towards me. 'Her fiancé will pay for it.'

'He will?' Karim demanded, his eyebrows shooting up like two firework-propelled black bushes.

Ella turned to glare at him. 'He'd better!'

The Mohammedan puffed out his chest. His bulk of muscle would have made a gorilla cower. Yet Ella, innocent little Ella, rose to her feet, put her hands on her hips and held his gaze without blinking. Another figure approached from behind Karim, and a hand landed on his shoulder.

'Oh yes,' Patsy said. 'He'd better.'

Karim's eyes flicked from one girl to the next. The bodyguard was a supreme tactician. He knew there was only one way out if you were surrounded by superior forces. His shoulders slumped.

Ella glanced at me.

I gave her a nod. 'Don't worry. He'll do it. I'll make sure.'

And if he won't, I always have enough money saved up. Probably. I hope.

'Y-you will?' The mother stared at me, her eyes wide open in terror. 'But...he's the lord! Begging your pardon, My Lady, but you seem to be just a girl. How could you—'

One of the other village women who had followed us into the cottage leaned over and whispered something into her ear. All I heard was one word, but that was enough: 'Fiancée.'

The mother's eyes widened, and she hurriedly dropped into a curtsey so deep her knees nearly hit the floor. The other women clustering at the door started whispering to each other, in tones of mounting awe and disbelief.

'Did you hear that?'

'Did she say fiancée?'

'Did she say he was going to pay for it?'

I decided it was about time to get out of there. The way they were looking at me...it was as if they were tortured souls in hell, and I was the angel come to save them. Well...maybe not quite an angel. Maybe one of the nicer devils, who wasn't opposed to offering a cup of tea instead of a pitch fork.

'Don't worry,' I told the mother. 'I'll take care of everything, Mrs...?'

'Delaney, My Lady. Gwen Delaney.'

'Pleasure to meet you.'

I tried to shake her hand, but the poor woman curtsied again. This time so deep she nearly fell over. Yes—it really was time to get out of there.

But the moment I stepped out of the cottage, I realized that might have been a bad idea. Apparently, a whole crowd had followed us to this latest cottage. Tenant farmers, milk maids, stable hands and dozens of other people in rough, work-stained clothing gathered around, watching me as if I were some exotic animal they had never seen before. And, maybe, in a sense I was. My gaze wandered over open, weather-beaten faces and I realized I was looking at people who lived in a different world from mine. Back in London, in the world of balls and fancy dinners, I was fighting for my right to work. Here, out in the country, average men and women were forced to work hard every single day, whether they wanted to or not. And they had worked hard, I could see it in their eyes. None of them were responsible for the less than luxurious conditions here. Though I had a suspicion who was.

'M-My Lady?' One of the women approached me, offering me a plate of what probably were biscuits, despite visual evidence to the contrary. After all, it was rather unlikely anyone here would be offering me a plate of little mud bricks. Right? 'Some refreshment, My Lady?'

'Thank you.' Taking one of the biscuits, I managed to bite one corner off—fortunately without breaking a tooth in the process. Cautiously, I chewed. 'How...intriguing. I've never tasted anything like it.'

The woman blushed. 'Th-thank you! That's most gracious, Your Ladyship.'

'Tell me,' I asked before the woman could retreat again, 'when was the last time your lord made any repairs to his property?'

The villagers exchanged glances.

I raised an eyebrow. 'When did he last see to a proper drainage system? When did he last take any steps to promote new farming techniques? Encourage communal health?'

Again, curious glances were exchanged.

'Err...' the woman with the biscuits cleared her throat. 'Pardon, but what do you mean by "last time", My Lady?'

Ah. Maybe I should have expected that.

'You there!' Snapping my fingers, I pointed into the crowd. The young man on the receiving end of my index finger took a cautious step backwards. 'What, me?'

'No, I was talking to Father Christmas. Of course you! Can you ride?'

'Well, um...I, err...suppose so. Why?'

'Because you'll need to on your trip to town. How long before you can be back here with the doctor?'

'About half a day, if I had a horse, My Lady. But I could never afford—'

'Don't you worry about that. Benson?'

The butler snapped to attention. 'Yes, My Lady?'

'Show this gentleman to the manor stables and let him have his pick of the horses.'

'Err...except for the carriage horses, there's just one mount in there, My Lady.'

'Then picking shouldn't be hard, now, should it?'

'No, My Lady!'

'Excellent. I shall expect you back with the doctor no later than tomorrow, young fellow. Mrs Delaney and her children are counting on you.'

They all exchanged stunned glances. I didn't understand, until I realised—I had remembered her name. These people weren't used to be called by name, except maybe names like 'Faster, faster!' or 'Get along with your work already!'

I met the young man's gaze. 'You had better not disappoint them, understood? I expect nothing but excellence and promptness from you...?'

'Benny, My Lady.'

'Nice to meet you Benny. Now, off with you.'

Beaming, the man bowed. 'Yes, My Lady! I will leave right away, My Lady!'

He dashed off towards the manor with Benson hobbling after him. Everyone turned to stare after them—until I clapped my hands, attracting their attention.

'What are you all standing around for? We have work to do! There are more roofs to fix, walls to paint, and a sewage system to inspect.'

'S-sewage?' The look on my dear aunt's face, who stood at the edge of the crowd looking wonderfully dishevelled, was a treat to behold.

I beamed at her. 'You're interested? Why, dear Aunty, I never knew you had an interest in public health. That's wonderful! You can be in charge of that project.'

'I-in charge?'

'You don't have to thank me. I'd do anything for you, my dear Auntie.'

And, leaving my loving relative standing with her eyes nearly bugging out of her face, I turned and began issuing orders to the rest of the women. Amazingly, they obeyed without question. Not only that, they obeyed eagerly, practically running to do my bidding. Not even Mr Rikkard Ambrose commanded such instant obedience. And I hadn't even tried to glare at them, or threaten to cut their non-existent salaries! What was going on?

You know exactly what's going on. The exact thing you planned from the beginning.

I smiled.

'Patsy?'

'Yes, Lilly?'

'Hand me that ladder, will you? I think I'll go help the people on the roof.'

'But there are already half a dozen up there.'

'Patsy?'

'Yes?'

'Just hand me the ladder.'

And amazingly, she did. Without prodding me for any reasons. Leaning the ladder against the wall, I started to climb. Soon, I was clambering up the incline of the roof, over the bristly straw, covered here and there by moss, until I finally reached the very top.

'Need a hand?' I asked the boy putting down bundles of straw beside me. He stared as if the Queen of England had offered to polish his boots. 'Um...well, yes, thank you, My Lady.'

'So, what would you like me to do?'

'Err...could you perhaps, um...clip the straw?' Looking as if he might be about to be thrown in the dungeon for such a sacrilegious suggestion, he shyly held out a pair of shears to me. I took it with a grin. 'I'd be delighted to help you...?'

'Tom, My Lady! I'm Tom.'

'A pleasure to meet you, Tom. Now, at which end of the roof would you like me to start?'

Tom gave me my orders, and I got to work cutting and clipping. It was wonderfully fun work for a relatively monotonous activity—partly perhaps because young Tom soon became a lot less shy, and we chatted amiably along, and partly because the whole time I was clipping straw, I was imagining it to be Karim's beard. A little fantasy can do wonders for your work ethic.

'Something to drink, My Lady?'

'Thanks, Tom.'

Accepting the proffered water flask, I took a deep gulp and settled down on top of the roof. Stretching my arms, I drew in a deep breath of country air and gazed out across landscape. As I sat there, taking in the sight of the fields shining golden with wheat in every direction, here and there dotted with lush green, and the manor on top of a slight rise, overlooking all, warmth flooded my heart. I knew I was just standing on top of a freshly-renovated house, but it felt as if I were standing on top of the world. Affectionately, I patted the thatched roof.

Well, well, Mr Ambrose. Looks like I'm becoming a 'house'-wife after all. Just not in the way you imagined.

'Someone down there,' I called down from the roof, 'hand me string, will you? It's time we start shoring this thing up!'

A hand reached up, holding out a piece of string. Snatching it up I turned towards my work. 'Thanks!'

'You are welcome, Miss Linton.'

I froze.

Only then did I realize how very, very quiet it had gotten on the roof. To be honest, it had gotten rather quiet all around. One might even say icily silent.

------------------------------------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

The line in the above chapter about Prince Albert that might have confused some of you is a little joke for my fellow German-speakers. Did anyone figure it out?

One of Lilly's special 'bonbons' for anyone who can! ;)

(purely fictionally, so the fictional police can't arrest me!!)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob