But not before marriage, in Heyer Land. As far as we’re aware, Kenneth barely holds Ursula’s hand before deciding she’s the one for him… forever. What? No. That does not make sense.

It’s adorable as hell, though.

And, oh, the poor pater. Obviously, his snobbishness regarding Ursula is not to be borne, but how dreadful, to find oneself shut up in a ramshackle house – purchased outright by Kenneth, if you please, just as a bolthole for a couple of days, because of course one could buy a house on a whim, once upon a time; galling, isn’t it? – and deprived of the comforts of one’s declining years, all so your son can get married to his chance-met acquaintance. It’s disgraceful.

‘Pater,’ by the way, has to be one of the most time-specific endearments for a parent of all time. If you read a book in which the characters refer to anyone as “mater” and ‘pater,’ you are for sure reading a book that is set among the English upper echelons sometime around the World Wars. Giving the words an indefinite article – the mater and the pater – just solidifies the speaker’s place in society, and also in time.

In the decades since, “mater” and “pater” have rightfully fallen by the wayside, and while I actively decry the loss of some words from our shared vocabulary – one day I will see “zounds!” brought back into vogue – those frightfully twee appellations can stay gone for good.

So, poor ‘pater’ is starved into (whiskeyed and cigared into?) submission, and then Kenneth takes him to see Ursula to deliver the good news of the tortured man’s forced approval of their ill-considered union, and then you really see the genius of Heyer at work—as well as the genius of Ursula. Earlier in the story, when Kenneth reports on his father’s adamance against their marriage, she suggests she might go see the elder gentleman, and perhaps smooth the way. Kenneth advises against it, and Ursula accedes to his counsel, but it is evident that she is pretty sure she can turn the old boy around, if only she gets the chance to work her magic. Now, obviously the liberal doses of alcohol and tobacco help her cause, but one gets the impression that Ursula could have wrapped him around her little finger even without those inducements, because of course she can – she is pretty, she is smart, she is sympathetic and she knows how to manage him. General Mount is essentially Matthew Penicuik being turned up sweet by Miss Fishguard in Cotillion, or a dozen other cantankerous older gentleman who want nothing but an appearance of obedience and a kindly ear to make them believe they are in control. But Ursula emphatically has the upper hand over him, and Kenneth besides.

And we know all of this, from mere scraps of dialogue and inner-monologue.

Georgette Heyer really was astonishingly good at this.

And with “Acting on Impulse” she found her contemporary short story groove.