Both Dorothy and Anna planned to go to their rooms to rest after tea. Even though they had slept fair enough at their stop the previous evening, they were exhausted from the two-day journey in the carriage.

As with many farming families, dinner was served early at the Stewart household.

“Dinner at six o’clock sharp,” Theodore announced as Anna and Dorothy were leaving after tea. “Breakfast from five o’clock, although as guests, we do not expect you before seven.”

The sisters exchanged glances as neither arose much before eight or eight-thirty. And for them, breakfast was at nine—at the very earliest.

They giggled between themselves as they headed up the stairs to their separate rooms.

“I might have to slip a dinner roll into my pocket to save for the morning,” Dorothy said, “For I shall never be able to make breakfast at seven o’clock.”

“I will try to make seven, and I shall save you a rasher or two of bacon to go with your roll.”

Anna left her sister, retiring to her room, and laid down for a rest. Before long, she drifted off to sleep but was awakened with the children running down the hallway outside her room shouting, “Dinnertime! Dinnertime!”

She sat on the edge of the bed. Perhaps that was the way dinner was announced in this household, but she thought it strange. She washed her face, brushed her hair, and slipped into her most comfortable shoes.

As she came out of her room, she saw Dorothy approaching, apparently also ready for dinner.

“The children are lively,” Anna said with a sly smile.

“An altogether lively family, if you ask me,” Dorothy said. “I find Theodore and Claribel most amusing too.”

“Well, you had better get used to them, for they will soon be your family and you will be sharing this house with them.”

The dining room was unexpected. Not only was the Stewart family present, but also a number of guests. Many of them appeared to be neighboring farmers—whose idea of dressing for dinner was slicking back one’s hair with a generous amount of spit on the palm of the hand. At least five additional children were also running in circles around the dinner table.

Claribel stood up as Anna and Dorothy entered. “I guess you missed the dinner bell, but you are right on time. Come, you two lovely ladies, and meet the guests we have assembled in your honor.”

Christopher came over, gave Dorothy a kiss on the cheek, and directed her to sit next to him at the table. Claribel patted the chair next to her for Anna. “Come sit with me, dear.”

Theodore stood at the head of the table and rattled off the names of all the guests, only a few of which Anna would remember. She looked at her sister who appeared to be as bewildered as she was.

“Did you have a lovely lie-down?” Claribel asked.

“Very nice. I was quite exhausted from our travels.”

Claribel patted Anna’s hand. “I expect you were, dear. But eat. We serve hearty meals here and you will get your strength back before you know it.”

Bowls of steaming meats, vegetables, and soups were brought out of the kitchen by staff and set on the table. No one served, but the bowls were passed from one to another and it was catch as catch can. There were already bottles of beer and wine where one merely picked up the nearest bottle and poured oneself a drink.

Anna began to wonder how Dorothy would fare in such a house but remembered her sister’s own exuberance and thought she might adapt from her more sedate, current lifestyle to this rowdier version.

Theodore stood and shouted out a number of toasts including one to the “two fine ladies who have traveled all this way from Wiltshire.” And another to the newly engaged couple.

There was no such thing as a quiet conversation, as everyone shouted across the table to everybody else—all at the same time.

Anna examined the food on the table. There was a ham, a turkey, a number of capons and something under a white sauce that might have been fish. The tablecloth was spotted with enough spills to create a tapestry to hang on the wall.

“You are very different from your sister,” Claribel observed. “You are very much a lady. Your sister is more rambunctious, it seems to me.”

“That is true, and I think it is because I am the eldest and have always been the responsible one ever since our mother died. As the eldest, the job fell to me, as father was away in India for long stretches of time.”

“Poor dear, and to lose your father so recently. Is there no one else?”

Anna shook her head. “No grandparents, nieces, cousins or nephews. We are a small family.”

Claribel roared with laughter. “Not when your sister marries into this family. We have relations crawling out of the woodwork, hanging from the chandeliers, and poking their snouts out of the ground like a parcel of hedgehogs.”

Claribel shouted across the table to her husband, “Honey, we need to invite all the relations to supper before these two fine ladies leave us.”

“Aye, just say the word and it shall be done, honey pumpkin,” he shouted back.

Anna caught her sister’s eye and they exchanged grins. They did not need to say a word. They both understood the mirth they shared at the moment.

A few moments later, the staff swooped into the dining room, removed all the serving platters, and began collecting the diners’ plates. Anna had barely started to eat when her plate was swept away by a kitchen maid with a dirty apron. Immediately following, another troop of servers entered and placed cakes, pies, puddings, fruit compotes and jellies on the table as dessert plates were plopped down at each place. The guests became noisy again and began passing the new servings around the table.

“Does your house have a good kitchen? We spare nothing for a fine gathering. As you can see, I like to eat,” Claribel laughed as she showed off her girth. “Here, eat up. You are as skinny as a snake,” and she spooned several dollops of pudding on Anna’s plate.

Anna was now more exhausted than she had been from the two-day trip in the carriage. The noise, the abundance of aromas from both the food and the guests, and the children again running around the table in opposing circles made Anna begin to doubt her sanity.

Then Christopher stood and announced. “Into the great hall. We have arranged a dance.”

Great cheers rang out from the guests as they stood and began heading to where the music was starting up. No sedate waltzes but rousing polkas and country dances.

Dorothy came over and took Anna’s arm as Christopher led the guests toward the dance.

Anna turned to her sister and whispered. “This is to be your family, Dorothy. What do you think?”

Dorothy smiled. “Very generous and fun. I am having a wonderful time. Are you?”

Anna smiled slightly and nodded but did not speak.

Dorothy wrinkled her upper lip. “It is too much for you, is it not?”

“Perhaps a little…”

“You will get used to it. I cannot tell you what a relief it is to let go after all the solemn mourning of the past few weeks,” she said and letting go of Anna’s arm, danced on ahead, following the rest of the crowd.

Anna very much wanted to enjoy the evening which, it was clear, her sister was enjoying so much. But Dorothy had a partner to dance with and the other guests were paired off. That left only the pimply fifteen-year-old Thomas to dance with or Theodore or one of the two sisters. None of that appealed to her and she managed to find a seat in a corner where she was largely ignored for the entire evening.

Finally, by ten o’clock the dancing was still going strong when Anna could take it no more. She scooted along the wall to the entrance, disappeared upstairs and into her room, where she sighed in gratitude for the peace and quiet—except one could still hear the music from any part of the house.

The next morning Anna, feeling she must make an appearance at breakfast, braved the early dawn to appear just before seven o’clock. She put on an awake-looking face and found the dining room empty, as all the rest of the family had already breakfasted. Only a solitary droopy, wizened, footman stood by as she sat at the table and was served tea, toast and something resembling porridge. It was nice, however, to be alone after last evening’s ruckus. The only sound was the footman occasionally coughing or blowing his nose.

After breakfast, Anna went into the drawing room, but no one was there. The house was surprisingly quiet, so she surmised that perhaps the family was visiting neighbors or were out in the fields. Who knew?

Eventually, finding nothing of interest to read, she went back toward her room but decided to stop in at Dorothy’s room to see if she was awake yet.

Anna entered and found Dorothy brushing her hair at a dressing table.

“Good morning, dearest sister. What time did you finally get to bed?” Anna asked.

Dorothy looked at her as she swiveled on the dressing table bench. “Oh, Anna, it was well after midnight. And what happened to you? I looked everywhere for you but finally decided you had gone to your room.”

“That is so.”

“Did you dance with anyone?”

“Not a soul.”

Dorothy laughed and asked, “Did you save me a rasher of bacon from breakfast?”

Anna smiled. “There was none, I am afraid. Cold porridge was the best that was offered.”

“Oh, dear, I see I am going to have to take cook in hand when I become mistress of the house.”

“But that will not be for a while—at least while Theodore and Claribel are still alive.”

“Then I shall make Christopher establish our own kitchen and cook in our wing of the house.”

Anna sat at the end of Dorothy’s bed. “Are you happy?” she asked.

Her sister lowered her eyes. “Yes, I believe so. But nothing is what I expected it would be.”

“I can believe that. Your Mr. Christopher is such a gentleman. However did he come from this family?”

Dorothy laughed. “He must be a foundling.” Then she was silent for a moment before saying, “There is one thing…”

Anna became worried. “And what is that?”

“Christopher let slip while we were walking yesterday afternoon, that he was going to use part of my dowry to renovate this house. Heaven knows it needs it, but it startled me that he would so openly make plans to use my money without speaking to me first.”

“But, my dear, it will no longer be just your money once you are married, and you will be subject to your husband.”

Dorothy looked at her hands in her lap. “I never thought that through, I guess.”

“Does that bother you?”

“When he asked me to marry him we—or actually it was I who suggested marriage—we never discussed dowry or inheritance or anything like that. I guess it surprised me that he should bring it up so casually while already making plans to spend it.”

“I think you had better talk to him about that, Dorothy, if it is something that troubles you.”

“Yes, I believe I must. But are we not to discuss marriage plans, settlements, and all those sorts of things with the family while we are here?”

“It seems appropriate that we should. It is good to have a clear understanding of the expectations from both sides. Perhaps that is when you might mention your concerns.”

Dorothy nodded. “I shall. And Anna, that makes me think of something I should like to ask you.”

“Of course.”

Dorothy seemed to be searching for the right words, and then said, “I have to say, I have concerns about Mr. Percy.”

“Oh? What are they?”

“Exactly what is it you feel for him? He never used to give you a look, let alone expressed any romantic feelings for you—until father died. Why do you suppose that is?”

This was really at the heart of Anna’s own doubts, but she did not want to admit that and said, “I think he was shy before. But the expression of his feelings for me now seems to be genuine.”

Dorothy sat at her dressing table looking down at her hands in her lap. “I know you think I am silly and superficial, Anna…”

“Oh, my dear that is not true,” Anna objected.

“Then lighthearted and gay. But I do see things, Anna. I do observe and ponder in my heart. And I beg you, please, dear sister, do not squander the opportunity to find the right husband.”

“And you do not believe Percy would make a good husband?” Anna asked but dreading the answer.

“I think he is self-serving and a fortune hunter. He has no profession. He is lazy, dishonest, and reckless. And what amazes me is that the one perfect man is directly in your sights and yet you ignore him.”

“Harry,” Anna said softly.

“Yes. It is so obvious. Yes! Yes! Harry absolutely adores you, Anna.”

Anna remembered the kiss. Her face flushed as she said, “But he has never indicated that he was interested in me that way. We always regarded each other as good friends.”

“Oh, Anna that is because he believed you loved Percy and he wanted to honor your feelings. He is not the sort of man to push himself upon you if he believed you cared for someone else.”

Dorothy’s comments were like a door opening and flooding in light. Of course. How could she have been so stupid? Harry had given her so many signs—which she had chosen to ignore. And then there had been the kiss. That had not been so subtle. Anna looked at her sister in wonder. “Dear sister, I do believe you have grown up. No longer shall I look upon you as my little sister. Now you are the big sister. Much wiser than I in the affairs of the heart. I shall ponder your advice and will look at both men with fresh eyes when we return to Wiltshire.”