Adeline Horsey Recollections. For twelve years [her husband] Cardigan (age 50) remained a grass widower, consoled by many fair friends, and bills no doubt being as numerous then as they are now, certain ladies were always ready to stop at Deene [Map] without their husbands.

I knew Lady Cardigan (age 50) quite well, and on my first visit to Deene with my mother in 1842 she was very kind, and gave me some beautiful Northamptonshire lace, which I still possess.

There is a not unamusing story told about her and a certain Mrs. Browne, well known in Society. Mrs. Browne had fallen desperately in love with Lord Cardigan (age 50), and although she did not know him she sent him quantities of billets doux begging for an interview. Lady Cardigan (age 50) accidentally got hold of one of these letters, and she determined to play a trick on the love-sick lady. Mr. Baldwin, a very handsome man, was Cardigan's (age 50) agent at the time, and Lady Cardigan (age 50) persuaded him to personate her husband, and keep a bogus appointment she had made with Mrs. Browne.

The unsuspecting lady received a note purporting to come from Cardigan, saying he would visit her on a certain evening. He further stipulated that as he was so well known he did not wish to see any of Mrs. Browne's servants, and that she must receive him in the dark ! Any one but an infatuated woman would have queried the genuineness of the letter, but Mrs. Browne did not, and when Mr. Baldwin arrived, he was duly received in darkness as black as Erebus. He and Mrs. Browne were mutually well pleased with the result of their meeting, and under cover of the darkness of the small hours of a winter's morning they said good-bye. It was not until long afterwards that Mrs. Browne found out that she had entertained an agent unawares, and no doubt she hated Lady Cardigan (age 50) for the unkind deception of which she had been the victim.

Adeline Horsey Recollections. If [her husband] Lord Cardigan (age 50) and I had met in 1909 instead of in 1857 no particular comment would have been made on our friendship, but in 1857 Society was scandalised because I had the courage to ride and drive with a married man who had an unfaithful wife.

There was another and a stronger reason for the wagging tongues of slander, for they were prompted by jealousy. Lady Cardigan (age 50) was then very ill, and every one knew that her death was only a question of a year or two. Once free, Lord Cardigan (age 50) would be a prize well worth winning by match-making matrons with marriageable daughters, and his openly avowed affection for me had put an end to these hopes, I was not in the least disturbed by the incessant gossip, but my father (age 58) and my brothers were much worried and annoyed at the reports which were circulated, and although Lady Georgina Codrington (age 31) wrote to my father and begged him not to make a fuss about things, he suddenly became very angry and declared he would leave London for good and take me with him.

A most distressing scene followed. I said that, as there was no evil in my friendship with Lord Cardigan (age 50), I refused to give up his acquaintance, or to be taken into the country against my will, and I steadily defied my father and brothers to make me alter my decision. Family quarrels are, perhaps, the most rankling of any, for they are generally retaliative, and much is said that is never forgotten or quite forgiven; ours was no exception, and the result of it was that I decided to leave home. With me, to think has always been to act, so I ordered my horse "Don Juan" to be brought round, and I rode away to liberty. My own income rendered me perfectly independent; I put up at a quiet hotel in Hyde Park Square, and looked about for a furnished house. I did not go into exile alone, for my father's valet, Mathews, came with me, and his fidelity was well rewarded when he entered Lord Cardigan's service after our marriage.

I was lucky enough to find a charming little furnished house in Norfolk Street Park Lane, and I installed myself there with Mathews and three other servants. It was a quiet household, and although at first things seemed strange to me, I was very happy. I rode with Cardigan (age 50) every day in the Park [Map], regardless of the averted glances of those who had once called themselves my friends. I often wonder why friendship is so apostrophised, for real friends in trouble are practically non-existent, especially at the moment they are most needed. The ideal friend, whose aim in life should be to forget "base self", as the poets say, is as extinct as the Dodo, and those who talk most about friendship are usually the first to forget what is the true meaning of the word.

Adeline Horsey Recollections. On the morning of July 12, 1858, I was awakened by a loud knocking at the front door. I looked at my watch, and saw that it was not seven o'clock; I was, needless to say, very alarmed, as I wondered whether anything had happened to my father or my brothers. The knocking continued - I heard the bolts drawn, the door opened, and a voice I knew well called impatiently for me. It was [her husband] Lord Cardigan (age 60) ! I had just time to slip on a dressing-gown before he came into my room, sans ceremonie, and taking me in his arms he said, "' My dearest, she's (age 60) dead ... let's get married at once". Then I knew that the trying period of our probation was over, and that we were free to be happy together at last.

When Cardigan (age 60) grew calmer he told me he had just come from his wife's (age 60) death-bed. The poor lady (age 60) had urged him to marry me, saying she knew that I should make him happy. She had also warned him against Maria, Marchioness of Ailesbury (age 45), the extent of whose love affairs, it appears, was only known to Lady Cardigan (age 60), who told his Lordship (age 60) the unvarnished truth about them.

Note A. I did not wish to insult the memory of the dead woman (age 60), who had shown me so many kindnesses, I refused to marry Cardigan (age 60) until some time had elapsed. He went to Ireland in his official capacity of Inspector of Cavalry, and I lived on quietly at Norfolk Street till September, when I left London for Cowes. I then went on board Lord Cardigan's yacht the Airedale, where he and a party of friends were awaiting me, and we sailed for Gibraltar.

Nothing particular occurred en route; we were all in the best of spirits, and I felt as though I were the Princess in some delightful fairy-tale. The day after we arrived at Gibraltar there was a terrible storm, almost tropical in its violence. Roofs were torn off houses and whirled, light as dead leaves, through the air, great trees were uprooted, heavy masonry fell everywhere, and the ships tossed about like cockle-shells in the harbour. It was almost a scene from the Inferno, and our horror was intensified when we saw the signals from a French vessel in distress. Nobody seemed inclined to put out, so I begged Lord Cardigan (age 60) to send the Airedale to try and save the crew. He assented, and through this timely aid from our yacht fourteen men were rescued, and we also took a French poodle off a raft to which he was clinging, his owner doubtless having been drowned.