Synopsis:
An eclectic mix of heart-warming stories, full of memorable, quirky characters. Read about the heroic postie, the eccentric duke, a spoilt parrot, a true friend and a determined would-be husband. Perfect bite-sized reading with your favourite drink
Shop The Book: Feel-Good Stories
Shop My Stack: 2026 Books Read
An Excerpt
The Gentleman Gypsy – Set in 1885. He wants to travel but needs someone to care for his animals. She needs a place to live. Can they come to a mutual understanding?
The Gentleman Gypsy by Sarah Swatridge
1885
“And who is going to look after all your animals while you’re away?” The duke listened patiently to his aunt, Lady Somerset. “Even you must realise you cannot take them all your…what do you call that contraption? Your house on wheels?”
“It’s called a caravan. And yes, you’re right. I do have a problem. I’ll take The Colonel with me, but the others will have to stay. Can’t your stable boys take care of them?”
“And who would oversee the stable boys?” Lady Somerset enquired. “They cannot be left to their own devices.” The duke nodded. “You do realise there is only one solution, and that’s to take a wife.”
“It seems rather drastic! I was thinking more of hiring a veterinary doctor, surely that would appear more logical. I mean, what do I want with a wife?”
“The right woman could provide company and entertainment in your latter years,” Lady Somerset reached for the cord and rang for Harris to serve tea.
“The right woman would accompany me on my travels, and that wouldn’t solve our problem of the animals left behind,” The duke argued, but he could tell his aunt wasn’t convinced, but then she’d been trying to marry him off for years.
“We’ll say no more of the matter for now,” she told him, “But rest assured I shall come up with the solution. Now, drink your tea.”
“I intend to embark on my travels when I hear the first cuckoo.” He finished his tea, stood, bowed to his aunt and returned to the cabin he inhabited in the grounds of his home, despite it being the depths of winter.
There was snow on the ground when he was next summoned to take tea with Lady Somerset. Much to his annoyance she was not alone. Opposite her sat the most enormous woman he’d ever set eyes on. She was dressed from head to toe in her black widow’s weeds. She reminded him of Queen Victoria.
“Lady Hathaway has seven dogs no less, and many fine thoroughbreds. She was only confiding with me the other day that sometimes she preferred animals to people.” Lady Somerset gave a polite laugh.
The duke, however, had already come to the conclusion that animals were often preferable to humans. He gazed out of the window. From his vantage point he could just see the chimneys of his own property.
Some years previously the duke had built a small dwelling in his grounds. The little wooden cabin was where he spent most of his time and where he felt happiest during the winter months when the English climate forced him to remain at home. It had a decent fireplace, a good mattress and a pulley system of bells rigged up to the main house in case he needed a servant.
To his surprise when he eventually turned around to ask Harris to refill his tea cup, he realised he had been left alone with Queen Victoria. He knew he was required to make polite conversation. All he could hope was that Lady Somerset would soon return and rescue him from this impossible situation.
The duke listened politely as Lady Hathaway described each of her dogs in great detail. It took all his willpower not to yawn. He briefly wondered what his own dog, The Colonel, would think of her, but as they were never likely to meet, it was a pointless exercise.
The thought of having Lady Hathaway as his companion filled him with dread; her voice was monotonous and she had hairs on her chin! Besides, his Minha bird would easily be able to mimic her, and that would cause no end of trouble. The match was doomed.
“I take it she was not to your liking.” The duke could feel his aunt’s eyes on him and knew she wasn’t happy. “Fortunately for you I have met the perfect match.”
The duke sighed but knew his aunt well enough to know there was no point arguing and as yet he had not found anyone suitable to look after his growing menagerie of animals until his return in late autumn.
The second candidate he was introduced to was even more unsuitable than the first. She resembled a fragile sparrow, and looked as eager to fly away.
One glance at her and he could tell she would take an instant dislike to The Colonel, the duke’s faithful friend, a bulldog. He also knew that if he were ever in a situation, God forbid, that he would have to choose between The Colonel and this birdlike creature, then Heaven help him but he would choose his dog.
Furthermore, the woman was unlikely to be able to round up a donkey; and the goats would run rings around her. In fact, they would positively enjoy stealing her bonnet to nibble at, or giving her a nudge as she refilled their water trough. No, in his opinion, she wasn’t up to the job of caring for his animals.
“I appreciate your help in this matter, but have no fear, for today I have instructed The Times newspaper to run a suitable advertisement for an animal lover to reside at The Wilderness from spring to autumn each year. I am confident I shall find the perfect gentleman.”
“And where will they live during the winter?” Lady Somerset asked.
The duke shrugged. “That is not my problem. I merely require part-time help.”
“But a house needs to be managed all year round whether you are living there or not,” Lady Somerset informed him. “And even a jungle needs a little attention from a gardener now and again.”
The duke stood up tall. It was all he could do to remain civil to his aunt. He knew she had his best intentions at heart, but he felt she clearly did not understand he did not want her gardeners tidying up his land while he was away.
He finished his tea and shortbread, and took his leave at the earliest opportunity.
On arriving back home to the aptly named “Wilderness” all he wanted was to hide away in the cabin at the end of the garden. His easel was set up and he felt inspired to continue working on his portrait of The Colonel asleep by the fireside.
Much to his dismay he could hear voices as he approached his gate. Furthermore, it appeared John, his coachman and Foley, his valet were engaged in conversation with a woman. He could definitely hear a lady’s voice and he had had more than his fair share of female company to last him a lifetime, and that was all down to his aunt and her meddlesome ways.
The duke, unlike his uncle, was not portly, but trim. He was a tall man and it was his height that gave him away as he tried to discreetly avoid the main house and make for his bolthole. He’d hoped the overgrown bushes would hide him from his servants and whoever was with them.
“I am just on my way, sir,” the woman said with a nod. The duke thought she looked vaguely familiar. He was pleased to see she was neither the replica of Queen Victoria nor the size of a sparrow. “I had no wish to disturb you. Good day.”
“Miss Partridge has very kindly brought you her late father’s fishing rod,” his coachman explained.
“I felt it would be of more use to you on your travels, than to me.” She gave a little smile and he realised where he’d set eyes on this maiden before. She was, of course, the late vicar’s daughter.
“You won’t be taking after your father and fishing for carp in the lakes?” he teased.
“I prefer my fish alive and swimming. Good day to you, Your Grace.” With that she turned and within seconds was hidden from view in the undergrowth of his overgrown garden. The duke watched as a small spaniel obediently trotted along after her just as The Colonel followed him.
The duke could not understand it, but he was plagued by the image of that woman. She pervaded his dreams at night and by day his subconscious sought her out in the market place. There was something enchanting about the woman; even her name pleased him, Miss Partridge.
“John,” he said a few days later as together they were beginning to furnish the ornate, but practical, caravan ready for their travels. “Tell me all you know of Miss Partridge.”
“Being the vicar’s only daughter, she is next to godliness itself. She is tireless in helping others. Only last night she sat at the bedside of Mrs Chapple as she gave birth to another strapping son. Then, while Mrs Chapple slept it was Miss Partridge herself who prepared a meal for Mr Chapple and fetched the church charity box of baby clothes for his new son.”
“I seem to recall she’s no stranger in a saddle.”
“She rides a mare like there’s no tomorrow, but all that will change when she leaves for the north.”
Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this virtual book tour Rachel’s Random Resources .
Sarah Swatridge’s name can often be seen in women’s magazines worldwide such as My Weekly, Woman’s Weekly, Fiction Feast. She also writes novels, mainly historical, which can be found in the Large Print section of your public library. These novels are standalone and the themes vary from – women setting up a co-operative together in response to dishonest traders in the area (United we Stand) to stories set around employees in a biscuit factory (Biscuit Wars, Gentle Annie, Cakes in the Biscuit Factory etc) to the work of pawn brokers (Adam’s Emporium) or a woman in 1900 wanting an adventure before agreeing to marry (Biddy’s Big Adventure – also available from Calibre Audio if you have problems accessing print in the traditional way)
Social Media Links – www.sarahswatridge.co.uk
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100084730450618
Giveaway to Win 2 x Paperback copies of An Honourable Wager by Sarah Swatridge (Open to UK Only)
Lizzie’s badgered by the local paper who want to print a story about her.
They’ve challenged her to be self-sufficient for a year. Eventually she
accepts – but on her terms. It’s not an easy year, but she does learn
what’s important.
*Terms and Conditions –UK entries welcome. Please enter using the Gleam box below. The winner will be selected at random via Gleam from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days then Rachel’s Random Resources reserves the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over. Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfilment of the prize, after which time Rachel’s Random Resources will delete the data. I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.
Leave a comment