‘But why should she seek to do that?’ said Alice.

‘You will forgive me if I am blunt, we are friends of long standing and I think I can speak as freely to you as I would if I were ruminating in my own head. I believe she means to take William for herself. She is a widow of no standing: my brother has position and when our papa dies he will have more. He is a hero whose name is known throughout the county and beyond. Her daughters are fatherless: their prospects, when the time comes, would be immeasurably improved by becoming part of a family such as ours. In short, if she became his wife her gains would be tremendous.’

As soon as Caroline issued these words, Alice saw the truth in them. The apprehension was sudden and complete. She remembered her initial distaste for the widow: how she had not warmed to the symmetry and flatness of the face, the lack of animation in the character.

‘You are right. I can see that you are right. I begin to wonder whether she had not devised this scheme before she ever met William, but as soon as it became clear to her – when we first met, she and I, after he had written to her – that he meant to take up the role of her protector. And if so whether that was not the reason why I did not find her congenial, for I am generally well disposed to folk, as you know.’

‘You are. All your sharpness is reserved for those dearest to you.’

At this they both laughed. The moment of levity was of great relief to both women and went some way towards relaxing their sense of what danger the widow could bring.

‘But there is nothing she can do to bring her plan to fruition. I am alive and well, after all, and William would never submit your family to the scandal of a divorce.’

‘Of course not. Nevertheless, she is troublesome.’

‘I fancy that Mrs Lockwood is of more implacable a nature than her guileless manner suggests,’ Alice went on.

‘I agree,’ said Caroline. ‘A woman who is willing to devote so much time to needlework must be very patient.’

The two women laughed again. Each knew the other’s workbasket to be filled with unfinished scraps of embroidery, always taking second place to a book or journal.

‘That is true. Perhaps she is like a spider. Indeed, the shawl which she brought for George might almost be a cobweb. I think now that I shall not let it near him.’ Alice shuddered. ‘Then how shall I prevail against her, do you suppose?’

‘This is what we must now consider,’ said Caroline. ‘We are clever and she is not: that must go in our favour.’