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sheltered by a clump of trees. And they would need that shelter later on, they all agreed. The sun was already blazing down on them with all its summer heat.
    Several of the party decided to stroll beside the stream that meandered around the base of the hill. Hetherington insisted that Cecily show him the old church that she had dragged them all there to see. Amelia Norris, Ferdie, and Elizabeth, for reasons of their own, tagged along too. So did Mr. Mainwaring.
    Cecily clung to Hetherington’s arm as they climbed the grassy slope. Amelia strode ahead. She was staring scornfully at a half-ruined stone church when the rest of the group came up with her.
    â€œLook at this, Robert,” she said shrilly. “It is nothing but a pile of rubble. I told you that we should picnic at the river, as you originally suggested.”
    â€œSo you did, Amelia,” he agreed, “but I consider this an interesting pile of rubble. Tell us about it, Miss Rowe.”
    Cecily and Ferdie between them told about how the church had deteriorated from lack of use after the town of Granby grew up three miles away.
    â€œThe bell was taken to the town church about fifty years ago,” Cecily explained, “and that seemed to be really the end. It seems such a shame. This would make a splendid setting for a Christmas evensong or for a wedding, would it not?”
    All the while the small group had been tramping around the church through the overgrown grass and weeds.
    â€œDo you remember, Cec, how we used to come up here every chance we could and try to piece together the shattered stained glass from the back window?” Ferdie asked.
    â€œOh, I say, yes,” Cecily replied, her face lighting up with pleasure. “And didn’t we have a thundering scold that afternoon of the storm when we sheltered for hours and no one knew where we were?”
    â€œI got more than a thundering scold,” he said dryly.
    â€œYou also caught cold, did you not, Ferdie?” Cecily asked. “And it was all because you lent me your coat to keep me warm.”
    â€œLet’s go inside and see if any of the glass is left,” Ferdie suggested.
    â€œOh, yes, do let’s,” she agreed, and they scampered for the empty doorway like a couple of schoolchildren.
    â€œI am hot and thirsty,” Amelia announced. “Escort me back down this hill, Robert.”
    Hetherington smiled ruefully at the pair disappearing inside the ruins and led away his angry betrothed.
    â€œWhat is at the other side of the hill?” Mr. Mainwaring asked.
    â€œOh, merely more grass and trees, sir,” Elizabeth replied. “If you wish, we may walk down there and follow the stream around the base of the hill until we reach the picnic site.”
    â€œThat sounds pleasant,” he said. “Shall we go, Miss Rossiter?” He held his arm for her support.
    More than half an hour passed before they came in sight of the rest of the party, who were already assembled on the blankets and surrounded by the contents of the picnic hampers. Elizabeth had enjoyed the stroll. Close to the stream and beneath the shelter of the trees that grew on either side of it, they were shaded from the heat of the sun.
    And she discovered that she had been right in thinking that Mr. Mainwaring was not as taciturn or as top-lofty as he had at first appeared. He began to tell her about himself. He had been brought up, after the death of his parents when he was an infant, by his maternal grandfather in Scotland. The old gentleman had been stern and something of a hermit. The place had been lonely. The boy had been brought up almost entirely by his grandfather and a crusty old housekeeper. He had been educated at home. It was not until his grandfather died when William Mainwaring was nineteen years old, that the boy fully realized that he had an estate and wealth awaiting him in England. But he had no training for the sort of life he would face. He knew no one