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to find out about the Bishop who apparently owned a massive amount of land back in the fifteen-hundreds. A portion of which was now Wolfbridge.

She wondered if anybody was going to tell Giles that his assumption, mentioned so casually, might well prove to be correct.

So when they gathered that evening in the parlour with much needed glasses of brandy at their sides, she asked Royce that question before anyone else could start the discussion.

He nodded. “I’ll be writing him very soon, since this whole business has raised more than a few other questions that must be pursued.”

“Well, I have done some thinking,” she answered. “And reviewing of the dates we now have at hand.”

“Do you need the reference sheet?” Harry waved a piece of paper, grinning at her.

She laughed back. “No, thank you. I think I have most of it memorised. And my conclusion here is just an opinion, mind you…but I am near to convincing myself that this entire family tree began with an illegitimate child.”

The fire crackled in the hearth as everyone digested this comment.

“So you’re saying that the Bishop fathered a child out of wedlock? Back in…” Harry referred to his notes, “in 1565?”

Gwyneth took a breath. “Yes. I think Jonathan Pinebridge Markeley was fathered by Lord Nicholas Pinebridge, Bishop or not. And I have a compelling reason to make this assumption.”

She stood up and went over to the side table, picking up the handkerchief. “Remember this? We discovered the initials P and W intertwined within the lace.” She gently returned it to its place. “Who could P and W be, other than Pinebridge and Wilhelmina?”

“There’s no other mention of her, is there?” Jeremy looked thoughtful. “Only at the very beginning of the family tree.”

“Perhaps by the time they came to put that information in the Bible, they’d forgotten about Wilhelmina?” offered Evan.

“If that had been the case,” argued Gabriel intently, “why would that reference be in there at all? It had to have been important. A meeting between Lord Nicholas and Wilhelmina might well have planted the seed from which the entire family sprang.”

Gwyneth giggled, the muffled sound attracting everyone’s gaze. “I’m sorry, but that was quite neatly put, if you think about it.”

Gabriel blushed.

“Anyway,” she continued, “it’s a tremendous coincidence, don’t you think? The same two initials in the handkerchief now appearing in the very first entry of the timeline?”

“What was the date again?” Harry glanced at her.

“The first entry, where the initials appear, is 1562. It has that comment about some kind of exchange.”

“Oh good heavens.” Jeremy smacked his forehead. “Of course.” He looked around. “I am so forgetful. 1562 was the date of the grand opening of the Royal Exchange. A project of Queen Elizabeth’s, if I remember correctly.”

“So a grand event?”

“Huge.”

“The aristocracy would have been there in force?” Gwyneth continued her questioning.

“Most assuredly.”

“Well then. There it is. Bishop the Lord Nicholas Pinebridge met Wilhelmina there.” She wrinkled her nose. “And if we assume there was some kind of instant attraction, then the arrival of a child in 1565 is not out of the question.”

“A long-term affair then,” said Royce, his gaze distant as he contemplated the possibilities. “It occurs to me that Debrett’s might be of help. Just a minute.”

He hurried from the room, leaving the others thinking about the situation.

“They must have lived near each other. And if, as we believe, Pinebridge was Fivetrees, then that means somewhere around here.” Evan looked at Gwyneth. “Possible, d’you think?”

“More than possible,” she answered. “I’d say highly likely.”

Royce returned with a small book in his hand. “Right then. Let’s see if we can fill out some of the details.”

“Where will you start?” Harry blinked. “We have a lot of information, but nothing as concrete as a definitive title. Nicholas Pinebridge may not be in there at all…”

Royce leafed through the pages, then paused and silence fell as all eyes watched. He cleared his throat and began to read.

“Lord Nicholas Millington Pinebridge, son to Lord Arthur Frederick Pinebridge. Born in 1540, at Pinebridge Mere. Ascended to Bishop, 1560, by the Grace of God and the Duke of Fairefield. Diocese of…we can skip that…Country residence Pinebridge Mere.” He paused. “There’s more, but it’s not of much interest until we get to this…Bishop the Lord Pinebridge established Pinebridge Mere with the status of Mortua Manus by virtue of the ecclesiastical rights bestowed upon him at the time of his ascension.”

“Hmm.” Harry frowned. “I wish my Latin was better…”

“Isn’t it something to do with the ownership of land? Lord, I wish I could remember the details.” Jeremy closed his eyes in thought.

Harry snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Now I remember. I had a case where a father wanted to bequeath a portion of land to one of his sons, but he couldn’t. The land was held in perpetuity by the church. It was under Mortmain status, and the Latin for Mortmain is…”

“Mortua Manus. Of course.” Jeremy leaned back. “I remember now, too. It came up in one of my Classics classes. I have no idea why, but then again, most Classics classes are like that.”

Gwyneth smiled. “So now we have finally discovered what that expression means, exactly how does it affect this situation?”

“That is a very good question, my Lady.” Royce nodded in approval. “And it’s something Harry and I need to review in detail.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “I think Giles should know as well…” He glanced at Harry.

“Agreed. This concerns the land, not only of Fivetrees but also Wolfbridge, since the Mortmain was established to cover land that is now both properties.”

“Oh dear.” Gwyneth bit her lip. “Do you think this could lead to difficulties about ownership, Royce? Harry?”

Both men looked at each other, then back to her.

“I doubt it,” said

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