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village, they immediately began to descend a gentle slope, soon passing the manor house on their right-hand side, and what looked like a well on the left.
    The manor house was a handsome building, constructed in the Elizabethan style, and was only a matter of steps away from the village street. Eustacia was impressed to see what was clearly a gentleman’s residence right at the heart of a village, as opposed to being hidden at the end of a very long drive. She was still wondering whether this might be the residence of Lord Ilam when the carriage made a left turn through a pair of open gates and up a short drive that led to a squarely built house that appeared to be about thirty years old. It was the kind of house that would certainly merit further examination at a later date. For now, their view of it was somewhat obscured by a small equipage that was standing near the front door. As their own driver hesitated, deciding how to deposit his passengers most comfortably, Eustacia and Trixie were treated to an astonishing sight.
    A black-clad, long-legged figure, possibly a clergyman, came scuttling out of the house, his hurried movements and skinny limbs causing him to bear more than a passing resemblance to a spider fleeing from a broom. The reason for his haste became apparent when a diminutive dark-haired lady came bustling after him, a closed umbrella raised threateningly above her head.
    ‘But my lord bishop,’ bleated the clergyman, half raising his hands in order to protect his head, as he turned to address his pursuer.
    ‘A fig for the bishop, sirrah,’ exclaimed the lady in authoritative tones. Her manner, if not the activity in which she was engaged, reminded Eustacia very much of her mother in full flight. ‘How dare he send his minions to hound a defenceless widow in her own home?’
    ‘But madam, the church owns—’
    ‘“My lady” to you, insect,’ she of the umbrella interrupted. ‘The church does not own the right to put me out into the street.’ She indicated the carriage in which Eustacia and Trixie were sitting. ‘See, now, here is the carriage of my kinsman, Sir Wilfred Hope. Heaven only knows what he will say to this intrusion.’
    At once, Eustacia sat back in her seat, not wanting to be seen, then briefly leaned forward to push Trixie back in hers. Unsurprisingly, Trixie showed a distressing tendency to gape out of the window at the unfolding scene.
    By dint of rather an impressive degree of athleticism, the clergyman managed to scramble into his carriage without sustaining more than a glancing blow or two. ‘The bishop will hear of thisoutrage,’ he declared, rendered braver once the carriage was in motion.
    ‘And God will hear of my complaints in my prayers,’ retorted his opponent in a very unprayerful manner, before turning to greet the new arrivals.
    The departure of the clergyman had vacated the space by the front door. As Eustacia was assisted down, the lady of the house, who had taken a few threatening steps in pursuit of the unwelcome visitor, turned back with her free hand extended. ‘Eustacia, my dear, this is delightful! It must be at least two years since I saw you last. I had not expected you so soon, but now you can join my campaign.’
    ‘Your campaign, Godmama?’ ventured Eustacia.
    ‘My campaign to defeat the Church of England, of course,’ answered the other lady. ‘It promises to be great sport. Come inside and let me show you to your room. There will be time enough for all of that when you are rested.’
    Wondering how much time it would take for her to be rested sufficiently to build up enough strength in order to bring down the Anglican Communion, Eustacia obediently followed her godmother into the house.

CHAPTER FOUR
    The entrance hall was bright and airy. From it, a fine marble staircase led up to the next landing, then divided in two, going left and right in front of a large rectangular window. Above the foot of the stairs, a modest dome set into the