It was the old original “Palace of the Peak,” nor was it unworthy of the name.  The glory of many royal palaces of its time indeed might well have paled beside its splendour, and as a matter of fact the baron of Haddon was a king within his own domain, who wielded a power which few around dared to question, and fewer still resist.  Its hospitality was lavish, as the poor of a neighbourhood of no small radius knew full well; and the vastness and riches of the property which accompanied the ownership of Haddon was enough to maintain its lord in an almost regal state.

What happy scenes have taken place within its walls!  How many fair ladies have stepped off the riding stone outside its gate, helped by the gallant but superfluous aid of chivalrous knights, each striving to outdo the others by gentle acts of courtesy!  What brilliant cavalcades have issued from its portals!  How many merry hunting parties have started from its iron-studded gate; and what jovial monster feasts have taken place within its rooms.  If walls could speak, what a tale would Haddon have to tell.

The spring of the year of grace 1567 had just commenced, and the trees were beginning to adorn themselves once again in their green array, when the Knight of Haddon, Sir George Vernon, led out a merry company for the first hawking expedition of the year.  The winter had been unusually long, and more than extraordinarily severe; and whilst the knight and his sturdy friends had been enabled to pursue their sport by submitting to a more than usual amount of inconvenience, yet the ladies had been almost entirely confined within the limits of the Hall.  Winter at Haddon was by no means a dreary imprisonment, for fetes and balls were continually taking place, and however rough the weather might be, and the condition of the miserable tracts which in those days did duty for roads, there were not a few cavaliers, both old and young, who would gladly adventure the discomforts of a journey to Haddon, even were it to be only rewarded by a smile, or perchance a dance with the two daughters of the host, whose beauty, though of different types, many were ready to swear, and to maintain it, if need be, at the point of the sword, could not be surpassed in all the counties of the land.

Indeed, the beauty of Margaret and Dorothy was almost as famous as the reputation of the “King of the Peak” himself, and the old knight, owner as he was of immense wealth, was often heard to assert that his two daughters were the greatest treasures he possessed.

Many eyes were cast upon these two fair maidens, and many hearts were laid at their feet.  Margaret, the elder, was already being wooed by Sir Thomas Stanley, and some gossips even went so far as to say that she had already plighted her troth to him.  The younger sister, however, had kept her heart intact, and in spite of the persuasions of Sir George and the threats of Lady Maude, had refused to comply with their request to accept Sir Henry de la Zouch as her betrothed.