Jesus College, Oxford, 1^st December 1821

As a highly respected expert on ancient Athenian politics, Dr. Thomas Black devoted the bulk of his time to reading.

However the letter holding his attention, as he sat at his desk amidst the dusty jumble of his college rooms, didn’t date from the 5 ^th century BC, but from last Thursday. Which was a pity. He’d much prefer to peruse a document from a couple of thousand years ago.

What did he know of the modern world? And frankly, what did he care?

He sighed, not for the first time, and aimed a longing glance at the thick report that had arrived from Dr. Albert this morning. Albert was a lucky dog, excavating in Greece for the entire winter. How Dr. Black itched to learn more of his recent discoveries.

But nobody could say that Thomas Black was completely lost to his duty.

Besides, he still harbored a soft spot for Kitty Hale. Although he’d spent the last thirty years thanking his Maker that, when he and his best friend pursued the lovely Miss Katherine Summers during that long ago London season, she’d chosen Cedric instead of him. He really wasn’t cut out to be a husband.

Now Kitty wrote to embroil him in a family matter, wanting him to interfere in her son’s life. Although Dr. Black supposed that given the young man in question was his godson, she had some right to enlist his assistance.

His eye fell once more on the offending lines.

Thomas, I’m at my wits’ end, and I would dearly love your help if you’re able to give it.

Joss is doing well in his career—you’ve probably heard of his success as an architect. Everyone in society is clamoring for him to rebuild their old houses in the fashionable gothic style.

Thomas vaguely recalled Kitty’s letter last Christmas. There had been something in that about his godson making a splash in the world. Or at least he thought so. He always got the news about the children mixed up. With seven Hale offspring to sort out in his mind, a lot of Kitty’s tattle went over his head. He hadn’t seen any of the family in the last twenty years, although they always invited him to visit for the Festive Season.

He went back to reading the letter.

He needs to find a nice girl and settle down. He’s approaching thirty and more than ready to move into the next stage of his life.

Dr. Black scowled at the paragraph. Reading between the lines, as a scholar was wont to do, those words implied that Kitty thought her former suitor, now a confirmed bachelor, was stuck in his childhood, too. What cheek.

But I’ve introduced him to every eligible girl in Sussex, and he won’t have a bar of any of them. When he’s in London, he just runs around with unsuitable women.

That raised a reminiscent smile. Dr. Black recalled the escapades of his youth well enough to understand the appeal of unsuitable women. He hadn’t exactly been a devil for the ladies, but he hadn’t been dead either.

Now I turn to you as his godfather. I realize you lead a retired life, but surely there’s some charming girl you know, the daughter of a colleague or a relative, who might suit Joss.

He’s got a good heart, although his manners aren’t the most polished. And he’s clever. So I need a girl outside the normal run. Which is one of the reasons I thought of you. I imagine Oxford is overflowing with clever women. All those fusty old dons you know must surely have a niece or a sister with brains.

Fusty old dons? He hoped she wasn’t including him in that description.

Or perhaps someone you worked with in the early days ended up leaving college to marry and now has an attractive daughter. Can you think of a lady who won’t bore Joss silly within the first ten minutes? If so, could you arrange for him to meet her?

One thing more—it would help if she was pretty. All the unsuitable women are diamonds of the first water. I suspect unsuitable women usually are. My son is not a shallow man—in fact, he’s a bit of a romantic, and that’s why he’s so reluctant to commit himself. I believe he wants to fall in love. But I always think it’s easier for a man to fall in love with a girl who isn’t a complete antidote.

Kitty then revealed the iron hand under the velvet glove.

So far, your obligations as Joss’s godfather have been far from onerous. And I’m persuaded your aid in assuring my son’s future happiness won’t demand much of your attention.

“Are you just, Kitty, my girl?” he asked aloud, breaking the untidy room’s silence.

As if smart, pretty girls seeking a rough brute of a bridegroom grew on trees. Dr. Black wasn’t remotely deceived by that line about “unpolished manners.” If his doting mother described him thus, the boy must behave like a navvy in company.

Without much optimism, his mind ran through the few unmarried girls he knew. If they were pretty, they were silly. If they weren’t silly, they weren’t pretty. Young women were almost as much of a mystery as the vagaries of the world outside the walls of his cozy college. He inhabited an almost entirely masculine environment.

Dr. Black drew a sheet of paper forward and picked up his pen to begin a letter. He’d inform Kitty that she could harp about his obligations to her second son all she liked, but Thomas Black could be of no assistance in this matter.

Then he paused and frowned thoughtfully into the distance.

Now he considered further, that wasn’t quite true. He might just have a girl in mind.

Kitty Hale wanted her son to find a wife out of the common way? Dr. Black knew someone who fitted that description, both literally and figuratively. Further, Black had long ago decided to do something for the chit. Settle money on her. Find her a suitable situation. Put her in the care of someone who could help her make her way. Arrange a husband. That sort of thing.

He well remembered seeing the girl at her mother’s funeral and planning to fix her up in life.

Had that really been a year ago?

Unfamiliar guilt stabbed him as he frowned down at the empty page in front of him.

By heaven, that wasn’t a year ago. No, it had been five years.

All this time, Miss Margaret Carr had been stagnating up in Yorkshire. Dr. Black didn’t make a habit of dwelling on his personal failings, but even he admitted he’d been deplorably careless about his orphaned cousin.

He’d meant to place the girl somewhere suitable to her rank. How unforgivable that he’d retreated into his selfish concerns and completely forgotten her, despite paying her a wage and providing a roof over her head.

She was pretty, very much so, and she was unusual—and her father, the vicar, had been a dashed clever fellow. Perhaps she was precisely the woman to satisfy both Kitty and her wayward son.

It would take strategy to get Joss and Margaret together. Even Dr. Black knew enough about worldly young men to see that if they caught the slightest whiff of manipulation, they ran for the hills. Which was obviously where Kitty was going wrong with all her local belles.

He lifted his pen once more, but paused before writing. Was this wise, what he plotted? Joss Hale sounded like a bit of a lad. One mustn’t discount all those unsuitable London ladies. What if the boy was an out-and-out libertine?

But there were other servants in the house. Dr. Black was almost sure he paid more than one set of wages every month as a standing order from his bank. Margaret would have plenty of chaperones to keep her safe from a seducer’s wiles.

Anyway, it was well past time Joss saw the estate in Yorkshire. After all, it was to come to him in the end—not that Dr. Black wanted to tempt fate by telling him so.

Pleased with this easy solution to two problems, Joss’s bride and Margaret’s future, he started to write.

Dear Joss,

Forgive me for being such a neglectful godparent and for writing to you out of the blue like this. But I find myself in need of an architect to visit Thorncroft Hall in Fraedale in Yorkshire, with a view to undertaking largescale modernization.

I’d very much appreciate it if you could travel up there at your earliest convenience and report on the state of the building and what work needs to be undertaken to bring the old place up to date.

If you feel able to assist me in this, I’ll be most grateful. In the hope that you’re amenable to my request, I’m attaching details of the location. The house is ready for guests, and I’ll let the servants know to expect you.

Yours affectionately,

Thos. Black

Now he must write to Margaret and tell her to prepare for a visitor. Then he’d answer Kitty’s letter and share his dashed brilliant plan. He was a capital canny fellow, even if he did say so himself. Fusty old dons came in very handy sometimes, damn Kitty’s impudence and fine green eyes.

He’d write that letter to Yorkshire. And the letter to Sussex. Of course he would.

Just as soon as he opened Dr. Albert’s report. One little peek before he got back to his correspondence. His colleague’s last letter had finished in a most suspenseful manner, after the discovery of a cache of stone tablets.

With a decisive gesture, Dr. Black sealed the letter to Joss and rose to put it on the table near the door, ready for his scout to collect and post this evening.

One glance to see what the report contained, then he’d write the other letters. He tore open the package from Dr. Albert and settled back at his desk, immediately engrossed in an ancient world that seemed so much more alive to him than the trivial matters filling the present.

The late autumn day closed in, and it was time to go to hall for dinner. Dr. Black’s longsuffering scout collected the first letter, but there were no letters to follow.

Dr. Black disappeared back into his concerns and never answered Kitty’s letter or wrote to Thorncroft Hall to let Margaret know company was on the way.