A mother’s love

HELLO, little one!” Penny Dauntless greeted a robin-redbreast, who cocked his head as she pushed along her trolley of post on the daily round. “How often is there such a perfect mid-December morning?”

MISS, I say hold on!” a distant male voice called. Briefly glancing over her shoulder while emerging from Evelyn’s the furriers, Molly Warley smartened her pace and continued walking along London’s Sl

RUTH climbed the narrow path to Windlow Hill. She had a canvas bag in one hand and her mother’s old cardigan tucked under the other. Below, the village looked almost as it had in her childhood – white

JOHANN KERNER saw the woman coming out of the darkness. She looked ancient and she moved as slowly as a snail, her back bent. She was the most likely source of information he had seen on his travels.

Austenland – is there such a place? If so, it’s to be found in drawing rooms and parlours, not in sweeping vistas. So it’s appropriate that the Hampshire village of Chawton, Jane Austen’s home for the

THE fire in the great hall burned brightly to welcome Lady Dunstone’s guests to the event of the season, the Dunstone Manor Christmas Ball. The Manor was splendid this year. Snow glittered on the tree