Charlotte demurred, sweeping her tongue around her dry mouth. Anne, with no ceremony, rustled down next to her, careless of mud on her skirts. ‘Forgive me – I was far too precipitate. Allow me to explain. This is no tale in which the newborn infant will be borne off by a wicked fairy. You would keep him, in your home, no doubt the pet of his elder sisters, for as long as you choose. I ask simply that once he grows sensible, and of an age to require education, that he spends time at Rosings, too; and that I take over the provision of his education. That he be raised with the expectation of inheritance, with all the advantages and responsibilities incumbent on such an expectation. That when he turns twelve or thirteen, I formally and legally adopt him, and guarantee the future of Rosings.’

She stood again and knuckled her hands in the small of her back. ‘I have no nephews or nieces, or even godchildren requiring any special attention, for whom I feel any familial affection. If Mr and Mrs Darcy should have children, my little cousins will hardly be in need of anything I can offer. I do not pay children particular notice, but there is no doubt that your girls have admirable spirit, and I like the idea of your son treading these hectares as lord and master of all he surveys, bringing his sisters under this roof. I confess I take pleasure from the thought of my mother’s amazement at such a pass – that the son of the clergyman to whom she had condescended to give a living should one day inherit Rosings.’

Charlotte’s mind pecked from among her scattered thoughts the seed that there was no guarantee that the child soon to be born could indeed call her husband father; and the mental picture of the son of a piano-tuner – one who was a foreigner and a Jew – ruling over Rosings caused a tide of hysteria to rise in her throat. She remembered very well Lady Catherine’s railing when Mr Darcy first wrote to announce his engagement to Elizabeth Bennet: ‘Are the shades of Pemberley thus to be polluted?’ Oh, if she but knew what greater potential contamination was stalking ever closer to home!

She shut her eyes again, and Jacob’s face was at once before her, intelligence and compassion in every lineament, every gesture conveying his confident manners, every word his superior education and understanding. She was not certain Rosings was even worthy of the gift of his son.