The unexpected demon chapter 1

When wizard Castamir undertakes a little bit of summoning he does not expect to get a youthful and pretty demoness.  A demoness who is in search of sanctuary. Apart from this small irregularity, Chessina is a bit of a mystery.

As well as the problem of what to do with his unexpected demon, Castamir has to deal with a loud and obnoxious local nobleman whose uncle is the Royal Wizard.  A trip to court leads to some interesting revelations and more questions about Chessina’s origins. Castamir learns more about himself and about the legacy of his late master.

With new friends, and a few new enemies, Castamir must find a way to protect Chessina and restore something very important.

Her soul.

Fortunately the goddesses of love and of magic are sisters and they are both suckers for a happy ending; and the god of death hates to have his accounting of souls left untidy.

Chapter 1

"Don't send me back, I'll do whatever you want!" This plea came from the female demon sprawled inside the protective magic circle which was the locus of the summoning spell. However she wasn't the demon I had been in the process of summoning.

This demon had long dark hair, petite, very pale skin, good looking rather than beautiful albeit in an alien sort of way. The small horns on her forehead and the barbed tail were a final giveaway as to her true nature. She looked very distressed with numerous wounds and the little clothing she wore torn and disarranged showing that she was indeed female.

I stood stunned for a moment, wondering what had happened and how. Then I realised I had to do something quickly. The protective circle I had conjured was only capable of holding the least ranked demon I intended summoning. This girl . . . this demon, I must remember she is a demon, is probably more powerful and capable of escaping the circle and killing me, wizard though I am. Without the protection of a circle, I must kill her, banish her back to where she came, or . . . make a bargain with her.

What did my old master Harmon say about making a deal with demons, ah yes, don't he said. Don't make deals with demons. Don't make deals with demons, devils, dragons or dwarves. In fact don't make deals with anything beginning with D. Although dormice might be alright. Still he continued, you are probably going to want to make a deal with at least one of them at some point so decide very carefully what bargain you are going to make before you need to make it.

I recalled one of the bargains Harmon made me work out as an exercise and turned to the girl . . . demon, concentrated and spoke very carefully,

"Do you swear to obey my commands, save where that would cause your destruction, do you also swear not to harm me, my property or my guests? Do you swear this by your Name?"

"I swear this by my Name", she replied tremulously.

"In return," I said, "I swear by the goddess of magic not to return you from whence I summoned you providing you do not break your oath."

"Thank you master, I will do whatever you say." The girl . . . demon, was grovelling in my magic circle as she said this.

"Come with me" I said, cancelling the circle, "and I'll find you something to wear."

You might be asking yourselves what was I doing summoning a demon. At this point, I was asking myself the same question.

I had intended to summon one of the least demons, a vaguely humanoid, four foot tall, bundle of teeth, claws and malice, covered in scales and with a bit more intelligence than a village idiot. That would put it leagues ahead of Lord Pennover who was the reason behind my, abortive, demon summoning.

Let me explain, Lord Pennover likes to wander his demesne 'to discover the tribulations of the common people' or as I put it, 'to see if he can find any good looking peasant girls he can get into his bed without having to pay too much'. Four days ago, Lord Pennover stopped to rest by a forest pool. My thoughts that he went to see if there were any village maidens (or otherwise) bathing there aren't really germane to the story.

In any case, while there Lord Pennover somehow dropped the amulet he was wearing into the pool. I don't know  precisely what its powers are, but I'm sure that one of them is to allow Pennover's keepers . . . ah, valiant bodyguards, to keep track of where the noble lord is in case he loses them. Pennover then orders one of the aforesaid ke . . . valiant bodyguards to get his amulet back. Pennover and bodyguards then discovered why the locals call the pool Devilfish Pool. The unfortunate bodyguard stiffened, screamed and then dropped into the pool, dead. Devilfish pool isn't the lair of a devil fish, if there are indeed devilish fish, which I don't know, but of a giant electric catfish. Lord Pennover was unable to get any more of his bodyguard to brave the water to retrieve his amulet, surprise, surprise; so three days ago Pennover came banging on my tower door demanding that I get it back.

My late master Harmon, and I still can't believe he's gone, would have told Pennover to go fish up a tree, pun fully intended. However, I have nowhere near the magical knowledge and ability of my master and Pennover is a son of Duke Brandell and the nephew of Dragovar, brother to Brandell and Royal Wizard. Who can be a nasty piece of work if he puts his mind to it.

So, I have to get the amulet back. This brings me, I know, finally, to the demon summoning. Demons are all sorts of horrible things, but they are also almost immune to electricity. No, I'm not going to call it ground lightning, show a little sophistication. I was therefore going to summon a least demon and get it to go and retrieve the amulet for me. Which brings me to where I am.

"Down the stairs and to the left", I told my guest, slave, minion, or whatever she was; and that I hadn't decided yet. This would bring us to the room my master's sister used to stay in when she was visiting.

"By the way, what's your name?" I asked. She turned around with a look of terror on her face, her eyes wide. The overlarge pupils were round and the irises were vivid scarlet.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean your Name, your Truename." I added quickly. Knowing that would mean her existence was in the palm of my hand.

"I consider that telling me your Truename would be a self-destructive command", I explained, "and that is not in my power to issue. What I really mean is, what should I call you?"

The  look of terror faded and was replaced by a smile, doubtless in relief.

"What would you like to call me master, do you have a favourite name?" she enquired.

"Do you have a, I don't know what to call it, a verbal identifier that other demons use to refer to you?" I asked.

"Yes, but I doubt you could pronounce it." she said. That, or she didn't want to tell me what it was. I had to remember that, being a demon, she lied like she breathed. Still, no matter.

"I will call you . . . Chessina. It's not a common name, but not outlandish." I decided.

"Yes, master." Chessina replied.

Master; it would do. I called Harmon master for many years, indeed I still think of him thus.

"This room used to belong to my master's sister, Krissilla." I said.

"Used, master?" Chessina queried. "Who does it belong to now?" I considered.

"It's yours now." I said. "Make what use you can of the things she left behind. I don't suppose she'll be back."

"Why not, master?" asked Chessina.

"Krissilla blames me for her brother's death. It was an accident, his horse shied and he hit his head on a rock when he fell. His familiar was confused by Harmon's death and took too long to reach me. By the time I discovered my master's death his spirit had left the Hall of Waiting and was beyond the reach of any healing magic. He now dwells with the goddess of magic, Our Lady of Mysteries. However, Krissilla still blames me." As I spoke I could feel tears pricking my eyes.

"Why are you crying, master?" Chessina asked, her expression one of genuine curiosity, causing me to bite back the bitter words on my tongue.

"I'm crying because I miss him, he was my master and my friend." I said.

"You are crying, because you are sad that he is dead." said Chessina, halfway between a question and a statement.

"Of course I am." I replied with some asperity.

"Oh.", Chessina still looked puzzled. "When another demon dies most demons are pleased. Their death means that there is now a chance of advancement to whatever position they used to hold. The dead one's allies will be annoyed as they have lost whatever favours or support the deceased could give them. But no-one is truly sad, even their enemies who might have wanted to kill the dead one personally."

"Oh." I said. "Go into your room and pick what clothes you wish. There are magical healing salves in the bedside cabinet. When you have finished I'll be in the sitting room. It's the big room two stories down. Then we will talk."

"Yes master." said Chessina as I walked away.

oOo

I rose automatically from my chair when Chessina entered the sitting room. I did not remember Krissilla ever wearing that shade of dark wine red. Nor her having a garment slit up the side at all, let alone quite so far. It was cut after the manner of court dresses of course, low across the bosom and with some manner of collary thing that encompassed the upper arms, leaving the shoulders bare. As far down as the hips it was figure hugging and Chessina's figure was obviously worth hugging. It then flowed out in folds shimmering where the velvet pile caught the light. There was enough fabric in it, that the glimpses afforded by the slit were tantalising rather than blatant. I felt very underdressed in my black workaday wizards robe.

I held the most comfortable armchair in the room and gestured for Chessina to sit there. She looked startled for an instant and then sat, gracefully while neatly tucking her tail beside her. It flicked seductively through the gown's slit. I worked hard on not noticing it and returned to my chair, it had been Harmon's favourite and was now mine. It was an imposing high back chair made of dark bronze-oak and much more comfortable than it looked, thanks to the cushioning charms. It also gave protection against certain forms of attack, as did the various magic items I had on or about my person.

"I'm sure Krissilla never had a gown like that, and she is a much er larger lady than you in pretty much every direction." I said.

"I altered the fabric," Chessina replied, "it's one of the things I'm good at. Do you like it?"

"Yes." I said without thinking. I really must remember that Chessina is a demon. "It's very memorable. Now," I continued, firmly changing the subject, "I need to figure out what happened. I cast summon least demon to bring one to me."

"I know," interrupted Chessina. "I saw the shimmer in the air that the spell causes. There were several of the malodorous runts there hypnotised by it and stumbling towards the centre. I ran towards the centre and managed to get to it before any of the runts did. Then I found myself here, with you, master." Chessina gazed at me with an adoring air.

"What were you running from that made you so terrified?" I asked, doing my best to ignore her expression. An echo of that terror returned to Chessina's face.

"I was being chased by someone . . . someone terrible. If I fell into his hands . . . well, whatever was on the other side of the spell had to be better than . . . him." Chessina shuddered and her hands went quite white she was clenching them so tightly.

"How close to you was he when you hit the centre of the spell?" I asked, wondering what manner of demon was so terrible that he could inspire such terror in another demon.

"He . . . wasn't chasing me himself. His has hunters to do that for him. The nearest hunter was some way away. Is that good?" Chessina asked anxiously.

"I think so." I replied. "When something comes through that sort of spell, the lure part disappears completely. Any observer, unless very close, and an accomplished spell wielder, would have absolutely no idea of your destination. Which is just as well for both of us."

"There's something else you might not know," I continued, "No being from the outer planes, upper or lower, can enter one of the middle worlds without being summoned. Not even a demon prince. He's not a demon prince is he?" a hideous thought had just struck me.

"Oh, no," said Chessina. She looked somewhat relieved now. "He . . . is one of the lowest of the upper classes you might say. Your language doesn’t have the words for all the gradations. You don't speak the tongue of the Abyss do you?"

"Not very well, no." I said. "I think I need to study that language seriously."

"I can help you with that master." Chessina said. "No, he . . . I'm sorry master, he frightens me so much that I can't even use the, what did you call it, verbal identifier, without worrying if . . . he . . . might hear and I might accidentally bring him here." Suddenly, incongruously, she giggled. Giggled? I didn't know demons could giggle.

"Verbal identifier, such a pompous phrase." Chessina looked at me, "you are rather pompous you know master."

"You can summon other demons, can't you?" I asked, seeking confirmation of what I already knew.

"Oh yes, but we only do so when we have no alternative. It creates an immensely powerful obligation towards the one summoned by the summoner and they could ask almost anything in return." Chessina's expression looked calmer now.

"Did you have no-one who would come to your aid against . . . him?" I asked.

"No. No-one I know is powerful enough to gainsay . . . him. Besides, he won me according to the customs. Nobody would lift a finger to help me." Chessina said, in a matter of fact tone.

"Won you, what, in a game?" I was incredulous.

"Oh, yes that happens a lot. Our, I suppose you could call them allegiances, get traded about between the higher ups." Chessina had relaxed into the armchair and seemed quite chatty. A chatty demon, before today I would never have believed it possible, now I had one in my sitting room.

Chessina continued chatting, "All demons try to become part of the entourage of a powerful demon and then gain followers by trading favours. The powerful demon will then protect you and you support them with your followers. You try to get traded to a more powerful demon than the one you were with by promising favours to the demon that's trading you away. My mistress, my former mistress now, lost my allegiance in a game to . . . him."

"If he . . . is so hated", I said, "and by the way, I'm getting fed-up with just saying . . . him, so I'm going to call him, I don't know, fishface." Chessina's mouth dropped open at this. "If fishface is so hated and feared why haven't the demons who hate him combined and moved against him?"

"He . . . is very powerful personally, a mighty warrior, and a very good officer in the War. Do you know about the War between us and the devils?" Chessina asked.

"Yes, I know about it. Among the mortals who know, it's called the Forever War. It's said it's been going on since the Gods created the world, or some say, even before." I replied.

"Anyway, he . . . is in high favour with one of the Prince's generals and nobody of the lower orders dares do anything against him." said Chessina. She suddenly looked at me very intently, "Master, you said earlier, that your former master, who is dead is now with the goddess of magic, is this true, and how do you know?"

"It is true. There are spells that enable one to contact the dead and I have spoken to my master. He is with the goddess." I spoke solemnly to Chessina. "Why do you ask."

"Demons have no afterlife. If their bodies are destroyed on another plane it reforms after a while on their home plane, although I'm told it's very painful. But if they are killed on their home plane it's the end for them. We all fear death, except maybe the runts who are too stupid to realise. Killings are not too common, as the killer might be killed themselves in revenge. But he . . . delights in killing in the most excruciating and protracted ways possible." Chessina sat perfectly still as she said this, not even her tail twitched. She then burst into tears.

I couldn't help myself, I got up from my chair, knelt down in front of her and put my arms around her. Chessina clung to me, sobbing.

Diana chapter 1

With Elizabeth happily married, as Diana did not, as they say, 'take' at the London Season, the combined Attwood/Ambleside menage travel to Bath where they plan to take up residence for much of the year in the house which used to belong to Mr. Buckley.  On the way they meet a soldier who is convalescing from wounds and trauma gained at Salamanca, and Diana takes him under her wing.

Chapter 1

“Mama, are you comfortable?” asked Diana, as Leontina Attwood sank back into the squabs of the landau with a sigh.

“Yes, thank you, my dear,” said Leontina.  “Dear me, how odd it will seem to be going back to Bath with a much enlarged family.”

“At least we have Buckley’s house, not a pokey little place like the house on Henrietta Street,” said Jane.

“We were glad of a roof over our heads, and that Papa had bought the lease on it, so we only had to find three pounds or so a year ground rent,” said Leontina.  “I cannot think how we would have managed if we had needed to rent a house. As it is, the rent we are getting from it is quite a third each year what your poor father paid for the remaining seventeen years of lease.  I hope you are not going to become spoilt now you have a new, wealthy Papa?”

Jane coloured.

“No, Mama,” she said.  “I was just thinking how fortunate it was that we should not have to try to sleep three to a bed.”

“I see,” said Leontina.  “It would have been a squeeze, I admit.  Of course it will not be as convenient for the lending libraries in .... dear me, we shall have to name the place. I cannot and will not continue to call it Buckley’s house, for it is ours now, and I have no intention of remembering that horrid little man.”

“Do not exercise yourself over him, my dear,” said Edward Attwood. “We shall name it something appropriate, and you girls can amuse yourselves on the journey coming up with names.  Diana, are you certain you are happy to ride?  It is quite one hundred and three miles to Bath.”

“Oh!  I dare say I shall be devilish sore, Papa, but it seems most profligate to get yet another carriage just for one, when you will be riding too, and then Mama and the others might be comfortable.”

Edward Attwood had purchased a coach to bring luggage and a few servants with them, but had placed his wife and their five combined younger daughters in the landau.  It had been freshly polished, especially the hood, in case of inclement weather, and was well-sprung and a comfortable ride.

“Well, you may always sit on the seat with Dobbs for a stage or two if you need a rest,” said Edward, nodding approval at his eldest.

“Or in the coach with Fanshawe, Spencer and Fanny, and even leave my mare to be collected by the grooms following with the other riding horses,” said Diana.  “I’m not too proud to sit with our servants. The only reason we are not some of us riding with them is so they can gossip freely, isn’t it?”

Edward laughed, and sighed.

“You are still as forthright as ever, my love,” he said.  “And yes, it is politer to let them gossip about us, the new house and so on.  A couple of imperials on the roof for our luggage at least give them plenty of room.”

“And Spencer squeezing herself into one corner so as not to have to touch Fanshawe, in case she catches romance from him,” giggled Jane, not squashed for long.  Spencer was Leontina’s new dresser, and she was something of an old maid by what appeared to be inclination, and Fanshawe, Edward’s valet, did his best to shock her whenever he might. Fanny was his sister, and only made half-hearted protest. Fanny’s friend, Kitty, had gone to Leontina’s oldest daughter, Diana’s stepsister Elizabeth, when Elizabeth had married her earl. Diana missed Elizabeth, although they had not been sisters for long before Elizabeth had departed for her new home in Shrewsbury.  Alexander, Lord Hawkesbury, had wanted to show her off to his people.

“How far are we riding at a time, Papa?” she asked.

“The horses will need to rest every couple of hours if we are not to leave them and hire post horses,  I have no intention of pushing them too hard,” said Edward.  “I have consulted ‘Cary’s Itinerary’ and ‘The Traveller’s Guide’ to plan the route, and I thought you would like to push far enough on the first leg to cross the county boundary into Buckinghamshire, and stop at one of the inns in Colnebrooke. Cary lists the ‘George’, the ‘Red Lion’, the ‘Ostrich’ and the ‘Crown.’ Mr. Oulton mentions the ‘George’, the ‘White Hart’ and the ‘Wheel’.  That will be a long leg, but we will do the rest in ten to twelve mile stages, I think.

“Dear me, how vexatious that they do not agree,” said Diana. “Other than on the ‘George’. Why do you suppose that is?”

“Well, my love, Cary concentrates on the coaching inns, so we may suppose that the ‘White Hart’ and the ‘Wheel’ may be quieter, but perhaps less well set up for receiving traffic and producing meals with some dispatch,” said Edward.

“Then we shall stop at the ‘George’, it being agreed upon by both sources,” said Leontina, decisively.  “I read the guides too.  The Ostrich is one of the oldest inns in the country and is probably too quaint to be comfortable.”

“Colnebrook is just over sixteen miles away,” said Edward. “Can you manage that, Diana?”

“Of course, Papa,” said Diana. “Lady Fair is raring to go, and she is fresh.  She has the smoothest gait I’ve ever known, and she can keep up a sort of loping canter forever.”

“Well I shan’t be asking that of either of you!” laughed Edward.  “It’ll be a shorter stage then to Maidenhead where we will have a leisurely meal.  Reading is another short stage after that, and then I hope to push on to stop overnight at Thatcham which has an inn called ‘The King’s Head’ which is supposed to serve good food.  Some stage coaches stop to allow their passengers to eat, but not all, so it should not be too busy.”

“Well, my papa used to say that no plan, however good, survives past meeting the enemy,” said Leontina.  “Of course, I am not suggesting that we meet any enemies, for the routes are well-travelled, and there are almost no highwaymen nowadays, and of course one cannot consider the inn servants as one’s enemies, nor indeed the open road ... where was I?”

“Trying to explain why Papa’s plans might be set at naught by circumstances, Mama,” said Flora.

“Oh, yes, so I was,” said Leontina.  “Because one can make plans ever so carefully and then something unexpected happens, and we just have to hope that whatever it is that happens is nothing drastic.”

“I have ‘Cary’s Itinerary’ and ‘The Traveller’s Guide’ in the landau, my love,” said Edward. “And a piece of paper in the itinerary to show the road, and the continuation page as well.  Whatever happens we can plan to meet it.”

“I am glad you are so organised, my dear,” said Leontina. “I am not good at planning and with servants and daughters there are so many things I worry about, like Diana’s girth breaking and her falling off Lady Fair, or an axle breaking, and yes, I do worry a bit about highwaymen, for Maidenhead Heath and the Downs near Hungerford are very empty areas and the Downs are downright uncanny at times.”

“Oh, Mama, you are thinking of that poor little baby who was burned to death by Wild Darrell and him and his hounds still haunting the place,” said Jane.

“I wasn’t, actually,” said Leontina. “But I shall now. I do wish you did not have a penchant for ghoulish folk tales.”

“But it’s a road just steeped in history, with the Druidical Temples of Avebury and the Grey Wethers, and there’s even a place Henry VIII is supposed to haunt,” said Jane

“Oh, what nonsense,” said Flora. “Henry VIII had six wives, and if you think he has time to haunt with them all bending his ear about what a bad husband he was, you must have let your wits go begging.”

Jane took no offence at this, as it was only Flora, and considered deeply.

“Mama, would it be blasphemous to write an imagined conversation between Henry VIII and his wives when he got to Heaven?” she asked. “If he did go to heaven,” she added, doubtfully.

“He was a very silly and most unpleasant man, but I don’t know that he was exactly evil, so I would not like to think of him in Hell, well, I would not like to think of anyone in Hell,” said Leontina. “Even Mr. Buckley, who is in Van Diemen’s land, and what a shame it is that G-d does not have somewhere to transport people to expiate their sins without being damned for eternity.”

“The Catholics call that Purgatory,” said Catherine.  “Goodness, Mama, the thought of Mr. Buckley and Henry VIII together in Van Diemen’s Land is quite horrifying.”

“Yes, isn’t it?” said Leontina.  “A pair of nasty mis ... whatever that word is for men who hate women.”

“Misogynist,” supplied Minerva.  “And I think Henry VIII’s problem is that he liked them too well in the wrong way.  Jane, I am sure that if Mama is happy to think about Henry VIII being transported she will not take it amiss if you write your imagined conversation.”

“But you must remember to leave out the last one as she wasn’t dead,” said Leontina.  “Imagination is all very well but right is right.”

“One of the Catherines,” said Anne, brightly.

Catherine dissolved into tears.

“How would you like your name being ‘one of’?” she sobbed.

“Well, I would speak of ‘one of the Annes’,” said Anne. “I don’t mean anything about me with that or anything about you with the Catherines.”

“Catherine, that was over-sensitive,” said Leontina. “It was Catherine Parr.”

“Are we going by Chippenham, or Devizes?” asked Jane, hastily, to divert the conversation.

“Chippenham,” said Edward. “It goes by a route which is easier on the horses. The Bath mail doesn’t care, it has six horses to a carriage in any case, and Devizes needs a mail service, so the hills must be braved.”

It was not far to Hyde Park, and through Kensington on the outskirts of the metropolis, and then a couple of miles of countryside before reaching the town of Hammersmith.  And then Diana felt that they were really on their way! She and her father cantered ahead and then slowed to a walk to allow the Landau to catch up.  Edward could have trotted with the posting, or rising trot which was more restful for the horse, but he preferred to remain with his daughter, and trotting in a sidesaddle was fatiguing for horse and rider both.

The first tollgate outside of London was at Smallbury Green, at Isleworth, and three shillings and sixpence for the two vehicles and two riders. Diana was glad to dismount to walk through the toll gate whilst the gatekeeper added up all the fourpence-ha’pennies for the horses, and the 3d each for the riders.  It was about half way to the first stage and they had accomplished it in under the hour, but the next half stage would be tiring.  Her father tossed her up into the saddle again once they had passed through the gate, and they set off once more. 

“At least it is not too hot,” said Edward. “It is warm for September, but the weather is quite pleasant.  I am glad it is not too dusty underfoot as it might have been; that would have been unpleasant.”

“Oh, I know why,” said Diana. “Mama Leontina told me that ‘Beau’ Nash wished to encourage people to go to Bath, so he paid to have pumps put in all along the road, every two miles if you can believe it!  And the funds are there to pay for roadmen to water the roads for our convenience.  Have you not noticed me tossing coins to them?”

“I had, and wondered why, but it is good to vail them for their efforts,” said Edward.  “I should imagine they can make a reasonable amount in vails if some people vail each.”

“It is all in my accounts; I allowed two guineas for vails for the whole journey, in case of needing to distribute higher largesse in inns,” said Diana. “I am giving each of them two pence, which will cost me a little short of a pound, and well worth it to encourage them to continue in their endeavours.  I recall one of the girls at school used to travel a lot, and she said you should vail the head porter at any coaching inn, to make sure you are not fed on scraps from previous visitors, and so they charge less for candles in your chamber.  She told me one woman who felt that servants should subsist on their wages got charged five whole shillings for candles in her room at night in the inn, and serve her right!”

“My goodness, yes!” said Edward.  “Look out!”

There was the sound of the tantivy blown on a yard of tin behind them, and Edward and Diana got off the road, looking back as their landau pulled well into the left to be overtaken by the fast trotting hooves of the mailcoach.

“That must be the London to Bath coach, it gets into Hounslow at twenty to ten, and it’s hardly short of that now,” said Edward.  Diana laughed.

“Have you learned Cary’s ‘Itinerary’ by heart, Papa?” she asked.

“Well, I might have studied it carefully,” said Edward, sheepishly.  “I find it exciting that one can set one’s watch by the mail coaches, and I believe many villagers who have no church or town clock do so!”

“I am looking forward to breakfasting in Colnebrook, I have to say,” said Diana. “Early mornings are all very well, but I like my breakfast at nine.”

“You were eating apples before we left.”

“Yes; I knew I would feel a need,” said Diana. “I don’t know how society ladies can bear to not eat breakfast until after midday as a regular thing.”

“Probably because it is as long after they have risen as it is for you when you have risen,” said Edward.  “And I am in agreement with you, that the morning is the best time of the day, and that there is something of a travesty in paying morning calls in the afternoon.  And to be honest, if it were not for wanting to establish you girls creditably, I would happily let the house in London long term, and live in ... whatever we are going to call the house all the time. But I won’t let you be done out of your seasons.”

“Oh, well, it will not be long before you have managed to marry us all off,” said Diana. “Six years before you can launch Anne, which is not so very long, really.”

“No, that’s so,” said Edward.  “I  was thinking that ‘Pleiades House’ might be a good name for the place, as it will have seven sisters, albeit stepsisters, attached to it – for Elizabeth is your sister, even though she is married to Hawkesbury.”

“Papa! What a splendid idea!” said Diana, her eyes shining like the stars of the Pleiades constellation. “You must tell Mama and the others!”

“I will suggest it when we stop,” said Edward.