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1823, Great Corby, Cumbria, England

A/N: This story deals with a real family, the powerful Howard clan of England. Both Howard families used in this story lived at this time and inhabited the houses described. Their names are accurate, but their story is not. Everything, except their names and basic major events, has been made up in my own imagination.

The place was in uproar. Servants were rushing around frantically. Mother was yelling orders. Father was yelling at Mother to calm down. Rain was pounding against the windows. All because my eldest brother, Philip, was returning home from Oxford today.

Of course, we had only received his letter today. But that was just like Philip. He did not expect the house to be ready to receive his arrival merely because he did not expect such grandeur; indeed, he often forgot that he was my father’s heir and my mother’s pride and joy. He had been back and forth from Oxford several times over the years, but today he was coming home from good, having completed his studies a few weeks back. If only he had sent his letter a few days earlier…

“Mary! Mary! I was just up in Master Philip’s room and did not see a fire lit. Don’t you think he will be rather chilly in a room with no fire?” Mother exclaimed to one of our poor maids. Mary nodded shakily and quickly made her way to Philip’s room. I laughed to myself and returned to my reading, though it was hard to concentrate with all the servants running around and Mother’s loud orders. Soon enough, my sisters and I would be given orders of our own.

“Catherine, you cannot just wear my gown without asking me! And anyway, you have your own gowns!” I could hear my eldest sister, Adeliza, yelling from upstairs. The castle was quite large, but for some reason, Adeliza could always be heard.

As Mother began to direct her yelling away from the servants and onto my sisters instead, I stood up and glanced out the window of the drawing room. The rain was starting to let up, leaving a light pitter-patter on the windows in its stead. Without a second thought, I went to find my cloak and escaped to the outdoors. Not wanting to stand in the rain, I skipped as quickly as I could down the steps, taking shelter in one of the caves that had been carved out of the sandstone hill upon which my family’s home sat. The caves were ancient, and there was one in particular, which had Latin carvings across it, that I enjoyed to spend time in.

Leaning against the wall of the cave, I sighed, noting that I would probably be the first of the family to see Philip’s carriage arrive. The rain had started to become heavy once more, compelling me to take a large breath in order to inhale the fresh smell. The rain and the silence of the cave brought peace to my mind, and it was a welcome sanctuary away from the bustle of the indoors.

Not five minutes later, I heard the sound of carriage wheels and horse hooves coming up the drive. Philip was home, and I couldn’t help but smile. Before he had gone off to study at Oxford, Philip had been the sibling I clung to tightest. I had never really developed an interest in material objects as my sisters had done, and so I naturally found books and the making up of plays to be more fun. While my sisters tried on their dresses and experimented with hairstyles, my brothers and I wrote plays to perform in front of our parents. My youngest brother, Henry, had been under 10 at the time, so Philip and I did most of the writing together. For inspiration, we scoured through Father’s collection of novels, poems, and plays. We were simply the best of friends, and I could hardly contain the jealousy I felt when he was sent away to Oxford, where he could only read and learn even more, and I was stuck at home in Cumbria, left to the knitting, music, and painting that is only fitting for girls.

I emerged from my cave and ran as quick as I could up the steps to our home, since the rain was still coming down hard, and I knew Mother would scold me if I came inside soaking wet. Just as I had reached the doorway, Philip stepped out of the carriage, with a wide smile across his face. He noticed me immediately. “Why, Miss Emma Howard! You look quite un-presentable!” He joked as he embraced me for a hug.

“I think I should rather be curtseying to you, brother,” I replied as I opened the door to the house in order to prevent getting any more wet.

“Why is that, dear sister?” Philip asked in amusement.

I sighed. “If you could only have seen the hullabaloo that was going on in this house this morning, right after we received your letter, might I add!”

Philip laughed. “Yes, I do apologize for that. I always forget the little details… Mother! Splendid to see you!”

After giving me and my wet clothing a quick, rather horrid look, Mother turned her attention to her eldest son. “My dear Philip, we are so glad you’ve come home. Do come into the drawing room for some tea! Your father is waiting and I shall call your sisters down presently… Andrew! Please remove Master Howard’s cloak and hat and hang them by the fire in the kitchen, they are wet from the rain.”

As I began to follow my mother and brother into the drawing room, Mother stopped and turned to me, “For Goodness’ sake, Emma, go change into some dry clothes! Fine way to receive your brother, indeed! And please tell Adeliza and Catherine to come to the drawing room!”

I smiled at my mother and silently obeyed. I was quite used to being scolded for doing things which were not as lady-like as my mother wished me to be. I had gotten one too many “Why can’t you be more like your sisters?” comments to doubt that I was far from being my mother’s favorite daughter. And yet, I hardly minded it. Adeliza and Catherine, whose blonde hair and blue eyes made them exceptionally beautiful, welcomed the attention of men and delighted in practicing their singing and painting. In contrast, my mother described my hair color as being a sort of “mousey” brown, and, for sure, she winced whenever I would pick up a book instead of sitting at the piano. Still, I rather took pride in being unique for my sex. As for the men who had visited our house on occasion, they were always much too busy paying attention to Adeliza and Catherine, which was hardly my fault.

After changing my dress and fixing my hair up, I made my way to the drawing room, where my entire family, save Henry who was still at Eton, sat with their full attention on Philip.

“Oh, Emma! Philip has just told us that he made Lord Morpeth’s acquaintance at Oxford!” Catherine exclaimed as I walked into the room.

“Who is Lord Morpeth?” I asked as I took a seat, turning my attention on Philip.

“Emma! Oh, you can be so ignorant at times. Lord Morpeth is the Earl of Carlisle’s son and heir! His name is George Howard,” Adeliza explained. No wonder her sisters were in such a tizzy – my brother had made an acquaintance with a man their age who was also rich!

“Yes, George’s family seat is at Castle Howard in Yorkshire, but the family occasionally spends time at Naworth Castle, which is certainly not far from here, and George has invited me to dine with him and his family this coming Friday, “ Philip said to me. “And, I suppose, if all goes well, we may be invited to any future balls that the Earl of Carlisle puts on at Naworth.”

“Oh, I shall need a new gown for that, Father!” Adeliza said, glancing over at our father, who had the frown he usually had when either of my sisters asked for something.

“Oh yes, I bet Lord Morpeth’s sisters have all the latest styles. I bet they visit London regularly!” Catherine exclaimed.

“So, if his last name is Howard, are they any relation to ours?” I asked, directing the question at my father. Surely I would have known if we had relations who were of such high status, though.

“Very distant, my dear,” my father replied. “We are both descended from the 4th Duke of Norfolk’s son, and that is about as close as it gets. Fortunately for Carlisle, he is descended from the eldest son.”

“Oh, but how wonderful it would be if Lord Morpeth fell in love with one of our daughters!” my mother exclaimed, clasping her hands together and looking off into the distance. Of course, she was probably picturing herself writing to either Adeliza or Catherine one day, addressing one of them as the “Lady Carlisle.”

“Well, to be sure, I will do whatever I can for my sisters,” Philip said with a smile and a wink towards me. I gave a nod of acknowledgement, but in all reality I had little hope of anything coming from this acquaintance. While we did bear the ancient and respected Howard name, our father had no titles. Our home was known as Corby Castle, though it was nothing grand and probably did not even deserve to be called a castle. Suitors had certainly been plentiful for Adeliza and Catherine, and my father was anxious to have Adeliza married off since she was now four-and-twenty years old, but both of them had been holding out for someone better to come along, someone “worthy” as they would phrase it.

As my father began asking Philip how his exams had been, Catherine turned to me and whispered, “Oh, Em, would you not love being styled as Lady Carlisle? And to live in a huge castle with lots of servants, and be married to someone so powerful as George Howard?”

I thought for a moment and replied, “Well, as long as he could keep up a lively and intelligent conversation.”

Catherine sighed and shook her head in response to my answer. “You are so daft sometimes, Emma, don’t you know that ladies do not engage in long conversations with their husbands, particularly very powerful husbands?”

I smiled in return. “A girl can dream, Catherine.”