‘But I am only human. I am seconds away from risking, for both of us, our security, our reputations, our peace of mind, the happiness of our families. The risks are far greater for you, and I must be clear: I can make you no promises. I can offer nothing more than my admiration, even devotion, for the time we are both here in this place, and ever after at a distance. And this with only the thin assurance that I will shield your reputation by maintaining utmost secrecy of any special connection between us. But I assume – no, I believe – that you are a rational, intelligent woman, one of fortitude and character. You chose to come to this place of your own volition. You now have another choice to make.’

Charlotte met his eyes, the deep brown of streams flecked with mica, the faint latticing at their corners, the fine bones of cheek and socket framing them. He returned and held her gaze steadily as she felt the framework of her moral universe – her life as a dutiful eldest daughter, the wife of Mr Collins, protégé of Rosings, chatelaine of Hunsford, a mother – her girls, Tom, her girls – yaw beneath her. A sensation not unlike rage boiled up from her feet: she had stowed away all the hopes of girlhood, settled for the sensible and the possible, kept every promise she had ever made. And now there was something potentially fatal, potentially a source of ecstasy, before her. She knew herself to be Eve in the garden, and understood the inevitability of the coming bite.

She stepped forward, close enough to smell the faint spice and sweat of Jacob’s body. She knew that whatever movement she made would be enough, but what should that movement be? Should she reach for one of his hands, hanging loose and tense at his sides? Lay her hand on his chest? She dropped her eyes from his at last, to his mouth, then brought up a finger, knowing she had only split seconds left to change her mind, to make a different choice – and then she brushed it slowly across his mouth, electrified by the softness of his lips and the wiriness of his beard combined.

With little experience of such matters, she nevertheless understood that the next move would be his, and he did not fail her. He gathered her into his arms, and stood holding her, his jaw pressed against her cheek, his arms sliding up and around her back and trunk, meshing their bodies together. The embrace felt rough and comforting rather than romantic, although each could feel the other trembling violently.