I began my exploration from the wrong end, as it were. I drove up from Oxford, past Buckingham, which must be an archetypal English county town - and perceived as rather posh; it hosts the only "private" (i.e. wholly privately funded) university in Britain. I then tangled with the myriad roundabouts on the bypass of Milton Keynes - a very odd place, a city wholly created in the 1960s by idealistic urban planners - much derided in Britain, but rather loved by those who live there. I then arrived in the centre of Bedford, a proper old English city. This means no truck with such devices as bypasses or roads that can be traversed by more than two vehicles simultaneously - in both directions. When Chesterton wrote that "the rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road", he omitted to point out that these roads might now grace the centre of small cities!

In addition, Bedford has one of the worst sign-posting systems I know. On the return journey, it loftily refuses to acknowledge the existence of Milton Keynes, while helpfully listing tiny villages that are inhabited by three farm workers, their mother and the cat. You have to hit the first of its many roundabouts before anyone thinks to point out Milton Keynes is actually ... er ... there. Or rather here.

On the way to the area, Bedford decided only to list major towns and ignore Kimbolton. I gritted my teeth, plunged into the traffic, and relied on my bump of direction and ten year-old memories. Fifteen minutes later, I was across the city, on a minor road, and looking up at a sign that read "Kimbolton". I had found the right road!

I drove up the B660. Perhaps I should briefly explain the system here in England. There are a few motorways, such as the M1 or M25 which are major roads with three lanes in either direction. Then there are the main A roads that link cities. These are sometimes - but not always - dual carriageways. The A14 at the top of the map which links, I think, Huntingdon and Northampton is such a road - and a very busy dual carriageway at that. Then there are the B roads, smaller linking roads that serve small towns and large villages. These are frequently quite twisting, and are always single lane in each direction. Finally there are the myriad unmarked roads that link villages and towns to small villages. Unlike say, Tuscany, all roads in Britain tend to be tarmacked and properly made up; the only dirt tracks being small farm tracks or bridleways (traditional routes still kept open for horse-riding.

As I drove towards Keysoe, where I proposed to turn off for Little Staughton, I found myself wondering why Georgette Heyer had chosen Little Staughton. All along the road, I was passing through the prettiest little villages with charming inns. What had led her to choose one that was off the main road? At last I turned off the B660 and followed the unmarked round down to Little Staughton. It was winding, and the countryside was typically lush English farmland, with rich soil glowing in the light of an Autumn afternoon. I drove once through the village and saw the church, somewhat separated from the main part of the village, and took this distrant photo.

A view of Little Staughton Church, across the fields from Little Staughton

The village itself was a little disppointing. there were some older houses in it - but not many; indeed it seemed a very modern development compared wirth some on the B660 - which probably had not changed much since Sir Gareth's day. Indeed, in contrast, a lot of Little Staughton looked as if it had been built since Georgette Heyer wrote the novel in 1956. I made sure I had covered the two main roads; it was a largely a linear village, strung out along a main road, rather than focusing on a feature such as the church or a village green.

Then I set out to find the inn where Sir Gareth, Lady Hester, Amanda and Hildebrand had all stayed.

The Crown Inn in Lower Staughton

This was very disappointing. There was no pub in the main part of the village; the only one to be seen was on the outskirts. It was called the Crown rather than the Bull, and it was clearly very modern. Despite its name, it appeared to be a cery recent creation - the building looked to be about 1070s. The only thing in its favour was that it was on the outskirts of the village, and thus would logically have been the place to have stopped.

On the other hand, it seemed to me that a village of the size of Little Staughton might once have had two pubs, so I began to look for traces of a second.

There was no sign of another pub in the village, but I went up the road that led to the church and was able to get a closer view of it. As you can see, it hads one of the spires I was describing - thick and stone, more like a tower than a pire - except in shape. As you can see, the light was already quite low in the sky when I took this, which gives the stoone almost the glow of Cotswold stone - that lovely material that is used in so many Oxford Colleges, and which has the ability to reflect light.

All Saints Church, Little Staughton

All Saints Church, Little Staughton

Oddly enough, this picture (from the Bedfordshire FHS) gives a rather different virew of the church - unless there is another church in Little Staughton, which I failed to see, or there has been quite dramatic reconstruction work on the spire since this picture was taken in 1997! Interestingly, the colour of the stone in this picture is more common to Bedfordshire churches than my rich sunset-lit one!

After the disappointment of not finding the inn, I thought I would drive to Great Staughton and see what I could find there. After all, Arabella and Hildebrand walked over there to bu playing cards - once Hester had persuaded them that the unconscious Sir Gareth would not object!

To find out about the next part of my trip, click here.

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