Chapter Eleven - 252 Oxford Street

Tyburn Turnpike at the junction of Oxford Street, Westminster, 1820, where the Marble Arch stands today. Uncle George's house is down two blocks on the right.

Notes passed quickly on London streets, folded in quarters, sealed or unsealed, tucked in pockets and bodices, carried by servants from one household to the next. Charlotte, her mind buzzing with questions, wondered how busy she kept them over her clandestine marriage as she crossed again into the unknown, this time to meet Henry's mother's brother, George Saunders. She knew little about the Saunders family except for his Aunt Mary and her two daughters, who lived nearby in Presteigne. They were most likely still spinning their heads over Henry's elopement, and Charlotte was convinced that the older of the two had a crush on him.

Charlotte was careful and obliging. Her clothes were lovely, her hat practically new, her slippers flat and pointed with little bows, but it was plain to see she wasn't from the metropolis. To her, it was as if she had stepped out of one of Joseph's sketches - rural and mottled. Perhaps it was for the best, for she knew too much glam would draw more attention. As for orderly Henry, his uniform was all they knew for years, and Joseph, well, his bowtie was not quite symmetrical but that the family would expect. Charlotte found herself wanting to transform herself high above the trees to be swallowed up in an opening in the sky.

King Street West (later called Nutford Place), where Joseph lived, sat upon not-that-long-ago ragged grazeland. Traces of its meadows could still be seen in the hollows of courtyards and mews. He most likely rented a room, perhaps through a friend or family connection, paying weekly. The street held businesses as well as homes. There was music instruction, a stationery, a bake shop and the King Head's Tavern on the corner. The Philological Society was also located on King Street West. It was set up to educate sons of higher society tradesmen, merchants, officers and clergy, who, from misfortune or insufficient income, could not afford liberal schooling for their children. The society led to the creation of the Oxford English dictionary later in the century. From there, it was just a short walk to Uncle George Saunders' home. Weaving their way beyond the greenery of Bryanston Square along the south boundary of Lady Montague's gardens and past the young plane trees still leafy and green lining Portman Square, they made their way to Oxford Street, where Uncle George lived at no. 252. Henry remembered the area well, for he had family in every direction.

Map showing Joseph M Ince's residence on King Street West (marked red in upper left corner) in relation to his uncle, George Saunders at 252 Oxford Street, Marylebone (lower right corner.)

George Saunders was a kind man. Nothing like Charlotte expected when hearing the status of Henry's maternal cousins and the wealthy families they married into. He was undoubtedly eccentric but of the variety that seeks knowledge of the arts, antiquities, and structure. He seemed to have no time for worrying about appearances. Uncle George was successful and kept company easily with politicians, collectors, the higher crust, the talented, the adventurous, and an assortment of colourful figures, no matter their station in life. Charlotte was smitten with his sitting room, where his walls were a journey in itself. Throughout the house he surrounded himself with designs and etchings, writings and maps. There were casts in plaster from original Roman sculptures and ancient marble fragments. He had a splendid collection of books, including volumes written on architecture, such as Kent's Designs of Inigo Jones and Carter's Ancient Architecture of England, as well as Piranesi's rare and complete works. Once again, Charlotte set off on a whirlwind venture with Henry's family, forgetting her misgivings, and it was pure joy.

George Saunders, marble portrait by Sir Francis Legatt Chantrey, 1831

Outside the room, Charlotte heard a child's voice and the hushed scolding of a servant. Running down the hall, the laughter faded, and soon, before Charlotte could even be curious as to who the commotion maker was, her thoughts were carried away with them. She pictured her own children. Somewhere amid rules and regulations, in the Pyefinch well-kept household, little Joseph, in a white frock and black half-boots, had his mind on paper ships, wooden tops and stray cats wandering in the garden. Matilda would be walking now, toddling after him, with the leading strings sewn so tightly in her muslin gown left trailing behind her. Without fail, they would keep the servants busy. Suddenly, the door opened, and standing before them, like a little adult, was a young girl. Henry signalled her arrival, and Charlotte returned from a lifetime ago.

George Saunders's house on Oxford Street, London, noted in blue

Uncle George Saunders, a bachelor, had just turned sixty-three. He had lived in that house built by his father, Joseph Saunders, nearly all his life. It was a substantial house, four stories high, with a studio, offices, and store frontage. At the time, it held a newspaper business. He had added a graceful classical facade with a curving porch on columns and a large pedimented window on the first floor. It stood not far from where the Marble Arch stands today. George was an architect and theorist, having published Treatise on Theatres in 1790. Concerned with acoustics, as well as fireproof construction, he wrote 'Observations on brick bond, as practised at various periods; containing an investigation of the best disposition of bricks in a wall' in 1805 and 'Observations on the Origin of Gothic Architecture' in 1810, as well as articles found in the publication Archaeologia. He was a freemason, initiated, passed and raised at the Prince of Wales' Lodge in London. Over the years he kept in touch with naturalist Joseph Banks as well as the French architectural theorist Quatremere de Quincy and reviewed articles on architecture for the Monthly Review, a periodical published in London. He was a surveyor for the county of Middlesex and is currently chairman of Westminster's Commissioners of Sewers, a position he has held for over twenty years. In addition, George was a Fellow of the Royal Society and a magistrate for Middlesex. His mind seemed to be always vaulting, racing in curves, arches, measurements, and lines from here to there, yet amicably trustworthy and nurturing. It was no surprise that George found himself beginning a new chapter of his life when he took on the responsibility of raising the daughter of his late and close friend William Moorcroft.

I imagine George stretched out his hand, and while his little housemate curtsied, he introduced her to Charlotte and Henry. She stood before them so well-behaved, with eyes full of spirit, ready to sparkle at any moment. Joseph, a regular visitor to the Saunders household, needed no introduction, and I am sure she was looking to see if he had brought his painting set today. Their uncle's determination not to let his friend's wishes go undone was unerring, yet a daunting task in more ways than one. After living independently for years, he not only took on significant financial responsibilities but there were impending social concerns as well, for Anne, now age ten, was Anglo-Indian.

Anne Moorcroft had lived with George Saunders since she was four years old, aided by his faithful housekeeper and nurse, Mrs Stedman, who was the backbone of the Saunders household for many years. She welcomed the thought of a child in the home, and it was said Mrs Stedman loved her young companion dearly. Born in Hajipur, Bihar, India, in 1816, Anne was the daughter of Purree Khanum, an Indian woman and William Moorcroft, a British veterinarian and explorer employed by the East India Company. Soon after the birth of their second child, Richard, in 1818, Moorcroft sought to have his daughter educated. He first sent Anne for schooling in France, where she stayed briefly with Mary Pateshall "Moorcroft", a mystery woman who appeared to have been a mutual friend of both William Moorcroft and George. Upon Mary's sudden death, George arranged for Anne to be brought to London to live under his care. Anne's arrival in June 1820 was described in a letter George wrote to William Moorcroft, saying how she scarcely spoke a word of English, was in good health and spirits and charmed everyone she met, adding that she was "wild as an untamed antelope." One could only imagine how George's household was turned upside down. But George appears perfectly contented with the change.

Showing the uniform of the Westminster Calvary

George Saunders and William Moorcroft first met as neighbours. Their lives would connect in ways they could never have imagined. William Moorcroft, believed to be the first Englishman with comprehensive veterinary education, had recently returned from his studies in Paris and opened a "hospital for horses" nearby. George was an active member of the newly formed Westminster Volunteer Cavalry, where he audited their books, carried out inspections, and eventually became the treasurer. The outbreak of war with France kept Britain uneasy, and London was working hard to keep its defences in place. Knowing Moorcroft's veterinary skills, George encouraged him to join the cavalry. From there, their friendship grew, described later in a letter by William Moorcroft as a friendship of "no common cast." Undoubtedly, the trust he put in George proved it.

Believed to be a drawing of William Moorcroft, 1820, India

In 1807, the East India Company employed Moorcroft to manage the breeding of war horses for the military. His quest for the perfect studhorse took him to Bengal and India in search of the legendary 'good Turkoman horses' that Marco Polo had described centuries before, capable of travelling a hundred miles a day for weeks. In 1812, he crossed the Himalayas, becoming one of the first Europeans to enter mysterious Tibet by taking this route. Moorcroft was not only passionate about horses but an ardent seeker of curiosities and learning. He was intrigued by Kashmir shawls, both for their beauty and value, and he studied shawl-making traditions, colours, and patterns. He sent Pashmina goats to Britain and eventually Kashmir shawl makers. However, his efforts met disapproval from the East India Company, which was still waiting for the perfect horse. Russia's presence in the region was increasing with substantial trade activity. Moorcroft envisioned the same opportunity for Britain in Central Asia and would find himself an early player in what became known as the 'Great Game' - the struggle between the British and Russian Empire for supremacy over Central Asia, namely Afghanistan, Persia, and Tibet.

One of the many Moorcroft drawings showing a Kashmir shawl pattern

Moorcroft, aged fifty-two, left the territory of the East India Company in 1820 and bid his goodbyes to Purree and baby Richard, unaware that it would be the last time he would see them. He set out from Hajipar, India, on what was to become a six-year journey of more than two thousand miles to Bokhara, now in Uzbekistan, in search of the fabled horses. First, he went to Ladakh's mountainous high desert region but was refused entry into western China. He sojourned there in Leh for two winters, befriending the locals with his free medical skills. While there, he sent reports to Calcutta, studied the area's politics, took notes on the vegetation and landscape, and perfected a technique to remove cataracts. He then journeyed to Peshawar, once in Afghanistan and now in Pakistan, where he learned about the Waziri horses, which are said to be the best in the entire subcontinent. But the prime horses were owned by the fearless Pathan tribe, leaving Moorcroft unable to find a guide willing to take him to them. An opportunity came when he met a well-respected but ailing Pathan holy man who was suffering from a severe cough and serious hernia. In exchange for treatment, he guided Moorcroft to Waziristan and supplied protection to William and his men. In Waziristan, Moorcroft treated sheep and horses, filled his journal with all that caught his eye, stitched wounds, aided the sick and earned the admiration and respect of the locals who had never encountered anyone quite like him. His journey, still undone, continued, for, after all that time, he only saw seven horses.

Moorcroft continued his quest to the Islamic city of Bokhara, where he was sure the horses would be waiting. They arrived in late February 1825, hoping to return to India by the spring of the following year. In Bokhara, he gained favour with the emir, who permitted him to trade within the city, having agreed not to interfere with Moorcroft's purchases of horses. But horses were not plentiful that year, and the ones he planned to buy were now on a mission with the royal army. Summer came, and the military still hadn't returned. He spent his time in the company of Bokhara's top surgeon, keeping notes on procedures that were very unlike methods he was used to. Moorcroft was especially appalled by the inhumane treatment of women and the horribleness of the slave trade. He purchased the freedom of three slaves with hopes of having them brought to India, where they would be returned to their homeland in Russia. Soon after, the emir, hearing what he had done, required that he sell them back into slavery, something that troubled Moorcroft immensely. Again, during this time, Moorcroft expressed concerns to the British officials in Calcutta that he felt Russia was spying on him, proposing they send support and encourage a ruler in Kabul to be pro-British. However, Calcutta showed little interest. Tired of waiting and with few horses to be had, Moorcroft, knowing the extent of winters in the Himalayas, decided to play it safe and leave Bokhara early. Before departing, the emir summoned him to a military camp, permitting him to buy horses in exchange for his medical services but under the stipulation that he and his men would serve as mercenaries. Moorcroft declined the offer, and the emir proclaimed the horses off-limit to him.

William Moorcroft (on far left) and Captain Hyder Hearsey (on yak in front of Moorcroft), 1812 in Tibet, disguised as pilgrims. Painted by Captain Hearsey himself.

Left with one more option to try his luck, Moorcroft decided to head towards Andkhoy, situated in Afghanistan on the edge of the Turkmen Desert. Why he chose to continue the remainder of the trip alone with just a few men remains a mystery. He had not been in the best of health for days. He reached Andkhoy in the scorching heat of August when a high fever fell upon him. Three days later, on August 27, 1825, ever-hopeful William Moorcroft, as colourful as the Kashmir scarves he had sketched, was gone.

Moorcroft acquired some fine horses, not the prized ones he had dreamed of, but good ones. The knowledge he shared about places never witnessed by European eyes before is priceless. His travels, although remarkable, were challenging. He endured extreme weather of every sort – heavy snow, torrential rain, ice storms, excessive heat, desert and wind. He made it through tumorous politics, robberies, rebel attacks, misinformation, injuries, sicknesses, hunger, and a lack of comfort and shelter. In all this, he filled journals with details of every curious nature, sent reports, pursued his purpose, wrote many letters, and kept in touch with his sincere friend, George Saunders. Moorcroft appeared not to judge but to gain insight into others' beliefs while not dismissing his own fulfilment in Western religion and lifestyle. He was open.

How poignant that William Moorcroft presented George with a Kashmir shawl just three weeks before his death. One can only guess when and from where he sent the package. Mail from Asia took many months to arrive, sometimes more than a year in transport. In time, George willed the scarf to Anne. I first encountered mention of William Moorcroft when reading through George's will. Curious about who he may have been, I came across a brilliant book, Beyond Bokhara, the Life of William Moorcroft, by Garry Alder and was left bedazzled by their connection. Through their friendship, I have come to know my fifth great-uncle. For this reason, out of deep gratitude to Moorcroft and author Garry Adler, I included much of his journey in my story.

Mention of the shawl given by William Moorcroft to George Saunders in 1825 appears in
George's will dated 1839. George willed the shawl to Moorcroft's daughter Anne.

It was not until after the start of the new year that the news of William Moorcroft's death reached London. As instructed in his will, eight-year-old Richard would soon join his sister in the Saunders household. Mrs Stedman was already making ready his room. In keeping his friend's wishes of having Richard attend school at Eton or Westminster, Uncle George was busy seeking a tutor to prepare him. Richard would arrive speaking only Hindi. The young boy would need to learn English as soon as possible. Undoubtedly, Anne and Richard would gain comfort in each other's company. But for Anne, the days seemed to stretch into eternity as she awaited Richard's arrival.

Having an Anglo-Indian child raised in England was not unusual. It was common for British men residing in India to send their Anglo-Indian offspring to England to be brought up under the care of relatives, regardless of their legitimacy, if they had the funds. But now, as the Regency era began to fade, times were changing. Within a few years, it would no longer be socially acceptable for a British man even to marry an Indian woman, let alone entertain ideas of raising Anglo-Indian children in Britain. There are myriad reasons for this, and each is as prejudiced as the other.

Anne had been attending Mrs Palmer's school for young ladies outside London at Blackheath - the school Moorcroft had requested. Charlotte was fascinated by young Anne, for the little girl seemed very much at home. Six years is a long time in a child's life, yet Charlotte was sure she must still miss her mother greatly. She dared not ask if they corresponded by letters but hoped that they did. She wondered what would become of the mother now. Unbeknownst to Charlotte, William had set up a trust for Purree upon his death. George would spend his time giving the children the best he could. And he would accept it if they wished to return to India. This is displayed in the years to come.

Sketch of George Saunders by Francis Leggatt Chantrey to prepare for his marble sculpture.
Sir Chantrey used a "camera lucida"- a device which traced the outlines of the face while the person sat perfectly still for a period of time, sometimes with their head fixed in place.
Certainly doesn't sound very comfortable. 

While Mrs Stedman prepared a light nuncheon of cold meat and wedges of cheese, bread, butter and pound cake, it was inevitable that they would begin talking about the family in Presteigne. George would mention a letter from his older sister, Mary and perhaps one from Henry's mother, his youngest sister. Charlotte would begin to cringe. By now, kind George Saunders, with the humble brow and eyes that seemed to carry the weight of the world, must have heard all there is to hear about her. She would clasp her hands and sit like a porcelain cat, her expression shuttered. Mrs Stedman returned, and suddenly, there was coffee, not roasted rye breakfast powder or mixed with ground acorns or turnips, but real coffee. This, Charlotte was sure, must have come from Jamaica, or the likes of someplace similar. Served with cream and pounded sugar candy, it was not that brown, dull water she had far too many times, and it was luscious. For a moment, she forgot all about the letters.

George Saunders Apprenticeship

Two months after his fourteenth birthday, in 1776, George was apprenticed as a bricklayer to his brother, Thomas Saunders, a builder, for seven years. The family business was in the house on Oxford Street where George now lived. George partnered with his brother Edward Gray Saunders, and in 1785 they were building two houses just down the street on Edgware Road. The larger of the two was built as a country and town residence for the Reverend Frederick Hamilton, the brother of Sir William Hamilton, ambassador of the third largest city of Europe, the Kingdom of Naples. George appears to have been friends with their nephew, Charles Francis Greville. Greville, a politician who sat in the House of Commons, later became known as the founder of Milford Haven in Pembrokeshire, Wales. He and George likely were united in their interests in antiquities and the fine arts. Greville has been described as having a serious, meticulous nature, perhaps a bit too reflective and whether shy or just a bit of a loner, he seemed to enjoy time on his own. In this way, George and he may have been very much alike.

Charles Francis Greville

Greville had taken on a very young woman as a mistress named Amy Lyon, whom he renamed Emma Hart. Emma had been born into poverty in the mining town of Ness in Cheshire. There was no doubt Emma carried a checkered past. At age twelve, she sought work in London, where she was hired as a maid, but soon, like so many other young girls, she was unemployed and back out on the street. It is rumoured she worked as a dancer, dressed as a goddess, for Dr James Graham's eccentric and controversial Temple of Health, a sex and infertility clinic based on both electromagnetic and music therapy open to treating all ailments. It appears Emma went on to dance at Madame Kelly's exclusive high-class brothel. There, at age fifteen, she met young, dashing Sir Harry Fetherstonhaugh, a wealthy, self-indulgent aristocrat who hired her to be his mistress. Greville was an associate of Sir Harry, and possibly Emma first met him at one of Sir Harry's socials or wild parties at his manor house, Uppark. Greville had to have made a kind impression on Emma, for desperate, after being turned away when becoming pregnant with Sir Harry's child, she contacted him, pleading for help. Greville situated Emma in a house off Edgware Road by Paddington Green and, in time, introduced her to his friend, an eminent painter named George Romney. Romney would spend years capturing Emma's natural charisma and grace on canvas. He was mesmerised by her. In a time of stiff clothing, powdered wigs and facial expressions that did not flinch, she was unlike any other he had painted before. Soon, everyone wanted to paint Emma, and akin to a fairytale, Emma became the most painted woman in all of Europe, even more than Queen Charlotte herself.

Amy Lyon aka Emma Hart, later Lady Hamilton. Painting by George Romney

Greville, who seemed to always be on a rigid income, began to rekindle his pursuit of finding a wealthy wife. The chance of him sampling marriage opportunities while keeping a mistress would be slim, so he did what he considered the next best thing – in 1786, he sent Emma to visit his uncle, Lord Hamilton, in Italy while petitioning his uncle to marry her. After years of Emma begging Greville to allow her to return to him in England, she finally agreed to marry his uncle and became Lady Hamilton in 1891. The larger-than-life story of Emma continues when, not long after, she meets England's beloved naval hero, Admiral Horatio Nelson, and although both are married at the time, she becomes the love of his life. Lord Hamilton, with admiration for each of them, remained a friend until his death. Emma and Admiral Nelson's telltale love ruffled high society even after Nelson's death at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805.

I haphazardly stumbled upon mention of Uncle George when reading a letter Emma wrote to Greville in January 1788, when she was living with Lord Hamilton at his country house north of Naples in Caserta. "Mr. Saunders came here yesterday, and you may be sure we shall shew him every civility in our power. I believe he was surprised at the 'stile' he saw me in, and the attention that is shewn me, and the magnificence of my dress. He as heard me sing and is astonished at me, both in that and in Italian. But I love to surprise people." How George came to know Emma is unknown, but they most likely were introduced through Greville at Paddington Green or during the construction of Greville's uncle's house. Or did George know Emma from earlier days? Emma and Lord Hamilton both welcomed George as their guest, regardless of the circumstances. In Caserva, Emma and Lord Hamilton lived part of the year in his hunting lodge. It was huge, old, and a draughty place, with fifty rooms or more, but by the time of George's winter visit, it was kitted up for Emma's liking and included a music room complete with a live-in singing master.

George's time in Italy was twofold. While he maintained an interest in collecting items of virtu, his steadfast devotion was in the study of theatres, particularly ancient theatre construction. This would include the Theatre of San Carlos in Naples during his visit. Italy held a constant flow of young British travellers. Many scholars and artists who were fortunate enough to afford such a trip or had obtained financial support from patrons came by the hundreds, seeking visual knowledge of classical studies, turning their inspiration into ambition. George had completed a project in Birmingham, designing a façade for a theatre on New Street. This, and the recent houses he built with his brother Edward, may have helped finance his journey.

A page from George Saunders, Treatise on Theatres, 1790

By 1790, George had reached the age of twenty-eight and had just published his Treatise on Theatres, a testament to his unwavering dedication to his craft. This work proposed an ideal opera theatre and was dedicated to Greville. John Pryse Campbell, an avid art collector with a substantial fortune from his family's Welsh and Scottish estates, purchased the two houses George and his brother had built on Edgware Road. He envisioned transforming them into a grand mansion with a museum to house historical art and enlisted George for the task. It is likely that George and Campbell had discussed this project during their joint visits to Italy several years earlier. The process of designing plans to best display and complement ancient relics and curiosities was a significant milestone in George's architectural career.

Drawing of Gothic Arches by George Saunders

Later that year, George embarked on another long, six-week journey to Italy, most likely taking a southeasterly route to avoid the mounting political unrest in France. Most travellers en route to Italy had to cross the Alps. It was an especially brutal undertaking between harsh weather and ragged terrain that could quickly extend into a week or more. There was always the fear of avalanches, sudden storms and the unquenchable tales of dragon sightings. Coach roads soon would ease the way, but at this time, carriages had to be disassembled and carried by mules while passengers were carted in open sedan chairs by strong Swiss 'chairmen'. A more pleasant but expensive option would be to take a boat from Rhone to Geneva and coach it for the rest of the journey. Either way, the roads, especially in southern Italy, were dreaded. Just from Rome to Naples, it would take twenty-five hours by coach.

While in Italy, George again visited Emma and Lord Hamilton. Gavin Hamilton, who was a noted classical painter, archaeologist and fellow antiquarian with no family relation to Lord Hamilton, announced George's intended arrival in a letter he wrote to Lord Hamilton in late December 1790 from his Rome residence - "I intended sending this letter by Mr. Saunders the Architect, who brings me a letter from Mr. Greville & has another for you; he sets out for Naples tomorrow & will be with you in five days. I need say nothing of his merit, he is strongly recommended by Mr Greville; this includes everything good & ingenious, & shall say nothing more on this head, as I know there needs no more" He closes the letter briefly mentioning George again - "I shall be much obliged to you for a first impression of the vase, & which Mr Saunders could bring me on his return to Rome; your marbles don't as yet appear when they do I shall nurse them as if they were my own. We have a great many English travellers here, all of whom you will soon see at Naples."

Kenwood House in Hampstead, London

George's zest for architecture continued. By 1794, the 2nd Earl of Mansfield, who inherited Kenwood House in Hampstead, London, from his uncle, William Murray, 1st Earl of Mansfield, commissioned George Saunders to enlarge the house by adding two north wings, allowing for kitchens, an elegant dining room, and a music room. The primary kitchen appears to have been designed after a kitchen in Glastonbury Abbey, allowing daylight in freely from the cupola. He continued his work with a veranda, a dairy, and service buildings with a brewery and a laundry. It is said that King George III was especially impressed by the work at Kenwood. Following the turn of the century, George worked as a consultant to renovate the Royal Institution on Albemarle Street in Westminster. This included a lecture theatre and gallery. Shortly after, George designed a thirteen-room extension for the British Museum's Montagu House to accommodate the Townley collection of Egyptian and classical artefacts, including the admired Townley marbles. The design included the earliest top-lit public gallery in all of Britain. The new galleries opened in June 1808, seemingly much to Queen Charlotte's delight. Henry's parents were likely there to celebrate George's endeavour - perhaps even eleven-year-old Henry himself.

George Saunders British Museum Plans

Charlotte would have enjoyed these stories. Henry would have been unforgiven if she discovered he knew them and kept them from her, especially his uncle's acquaintance with Lady Hamilton. Everyone knew of Emma Hamilton. She rattled society and gained the fond admiration of many, including young women, although they would risk judgment on their morality if they dared to admit it publicly. Charlotte knew such limitations and the pretence of double standards that shadowed over her. After Admiral Nelson's death, Emma continued to entertain from their home outside London, attempting to regain the attention she once knew so readily. Sadly, society did not treat her kindly, for although Nelson remained the hero, Emma, despite her numerous achievements, was still branded a tainted woman. Charlotte, in her own way, understood this feeling all too well.

Back at Joseph's, clouds on canvas whirled through the room. Lines in several directions were tilting with the sun, appearing like a sudden madness through the evening sky. As the day was gathering for rest, Charlotte would find herself chatting about fashions and colours, the advent of stars, the comfortable nature of Uncle George, the anticipation of Richard and the delightful bond between Anne Moorcroft and Mrs Stedman. Henry talked about meeting Uncle George at the Royal Museum before they returned to Hertfordshire. Joseph was already painting as they were bidding him goodnight. Charlotte smiled at the cobalt blue pigment on his fingers, knowing he would probably be up half the night painting what he still sees even when his eyes are closed. A young artist never sleeps if he wishes to paint the world, and she envied how he could pause the night with just a simple brushmark.

Henry and Charlotte's coach to Tring was reminiscent of the same waggling carriage ride just a fortnight before, only in reverse. It would be dark when they arrived at the Rose and Crown. The town would move in slow motion to her now, and the streets would seem so empty, as were her worries. Her mind would be home with Henry, lighting the hearth and settling in for winter. She would still quiver a bit at the thought of returning to Radnorshire, yet each conversation of Presteigne seemed to set the compass inside them in that direction. Letters from Joseph kept them aware of the family. I imagine there were visits from several cousins and Uncle George with Joseph, possibly even their father, Henry Robert. Maybe it was he who persuaded them to return. Either way, for now, with straw clinging to their banter, the autumn fields were a poem in themselves. The London family had taught her much. For now, it was a time of new life to forget about judgment in a place Charlotte longed always to remember.

Carved ivory bust of George Saunders by 

Benjamin Cheverton - a reduction of the marble bust by Sir Chantrey.