Unaware of the schemes being hatched against her, Frances continued to live quietly at the Regent while she waited for a report from her solicitor and his enquiry agent. She went for brisk walks in the park accompanied by long suffering Madame Lebrun and also paid several visits to the British Museum. They both enjoyed occasional browses through Grafton House, picking up bargains.

John had disappeared on his own business as she did not require his services while she was staying at the hotel. In fact, John had gone to visit the area in Kent where Amanda Murray had grown up and eloped with Henry Metcalf. He thought he might have some luck talking to the older inhabitants of Sevenoaks village, and at least, attempt to determine the route they would have likely taken to the coast. He was fairly certain they would have departed England at Dover, but his own theory was that Henry would have married her as soon as possible after leaving Sevenoaks.

He visited both inns and the local shops, seeking older folk prepared to have a chat and reminisce about the past. He stated openly that he had been in service with Mr Henry, when he found that the villagers still had a soft spot for him. He also spoke briefly to the rector but was not surprised to get a cool reception from him as he was beholden to Lady Murray for his livelihood. The word soon spread that Mr Henry's man was seeking information about him and he found himself approached by several persons eager to find out what Mr Henry had been up to since he went to France.

They were dismayed, but not surprised to learn that he had died abroad but absolutely flabbergasted to hear that he had a daughter even now in England. It became apparent that although Lady Murray was respected, she was not particularly liked by the local villagers, and few thought it odd that she had never mentioned having a granddaughter.

John stayed a couple of nights at the most comfortable inn, waiting for the news of his search to spread and hoping for a visit from someone who could help him. He was sitting over a tankard of ale the evening of the third day when an elderly man with a wizened face like a walnut came and sat next to him. "You were with Mr Henry?"

John nodded. "Nigh on twenty years."

"Longish time that."

"Ale?" at the answering nod, John gestured to the serving maid.

"Now I'm in service to Miss Frances, his daughter," John continued after they were both served another foaming tankard. "To be honest, there's some question as to whether her parents were wed and I'm here to try and find out. From what I knew of Mr Henry, it doesn't seem likely that he would've just run off with a young lady like that."

The other man was nodding, "I reckon you're right there, he liked kicking up a lark but there weren't no harm in him. You might do worse than to try the rector over at St Martin's, in Brasted."

"Brasted? That's to the west isn't it? Further away from the coast?"

"Aye 'tis that, but seems he and Mr Henry were at Oxford together." He gave John a steady look as he spoke.

"Ah." John nodded. "Another?"

They moved on to talk about some of Henry's adventures abroad, John gradually gathering a small but interested crowd around him.

The next morning, John rode off to Brasted, his head slightly the worse for wear. He soon spotted the square tower of St Martin's above the rest of the village and made his way there. The church was unlocked and he entered cautiously. A middle aged woman who was sweeping the floor, directed him to the rectory, "Rector's name is Mr Thomas, sir," she added. "He should be there at this time of day."

John walked over to the rectory, a low red brick building with a tiled roof and a neat garden out the front. He knocked at the door and was answered by the rector himself. "Yes? What can I do for you?" Mr Thomas had a pleasant open face and was clad in a black coat which gaped slightly over a comfortable stomach.

"Good morning, sir, I was wondering if I might talk to you about my late master, Mr Henry Metcalf."

"Good heavens!" Mr Thomas exclaimed, "I haven't heard that name in years! Do come in, my good fellow, and tell me what happened to him."

John entered the vicarage and was led into the parlour and asked to take a seat. He gave Mr Thomas a brief summary of the last twenty years and then led into the reason for his visit.

"You see, sir, I am the only person Miss Frances has to look out for her interests since her father passed away. She has been to visit Lady Murray who told her that if she can prove she is their legitimate daughter she stands to inherit ten thousand pounds. However Lady Murray is not convinced Lady Amanda and Mr Henry ever married, so I thought I would come here and do some investigating of my own. A chap I met in the village at Sevenoaks directed me to you. So here I am. Can you help me?"

"How extraordinary! Of course they were married. Henry had a special licence and I married them myself. I find it hard to believe Lady Murray did not know that." Mr Thomas was dumbfounded.

John looked at him in disbelief, how could it have been that easy? Brasted was only five miles from Sevenoaks, Lady Murray had certainly not looked very far to find out if her daughter had been married or not! Together, they went across to the church and the rector got out the parish registry and showed John the entry. "Here it is, you can see for yourself."

"Amanda Louise Emerson Murray (spinster) and Henry James Metcalf (bachelor)," John read aloud.

"Here," offered the rector, "If you can wait a moment I shall write a letter confirming this for you to take to Miss Frances."

John thanked him profusely. It all seemed too easy. He was never quite sure what made him cautious, but he asked politely, "Would you mind very much sir, writing me two letters? Then Miss Frances can give one to Lady Murray," and still have her own copy, he thought, just in case anything happens to the first one.

This was no trouble and soon John was on his way back to Sevenoaks after making a modest contribution to the church roof fund, the two letters tucked safely inside his jacket. He debated with himself whether to keep the news secret or not but in the end decided that the more who knew the better.

"Yes, they were married in Brasted by special licence," he announced to the landlord on his return. "I shall be on my way back to London now to give Miss Frances the news. I have a letter from the rector and all to prove it." He was certain the report would spread like wildfire. Now let Lady Murray deny Miss Frances was her granddaughter!