Anne nodded: ‘I wish to reiterate that the two proposals are to be considered separately. The one regarding your daughters is an offer, not a bribe; it comes free of obligation, in as much as that is possible – all gifts come with invisible expectations. But I must stress that my proposal should you give birth to a son is a request, Mrs Collins, and you are free to reject it out of hand, much as I hope you will not. It is by no means intended as a sort of command, or even a strong plea, but a proposition, one I leave humbly to your consideration. I ask only that you take some time to consider it, that you do not immediately respond with a negative. Once you have fixed on a decision, you may wish never to speak of it again to a soul; or, if you believe my plan has merit, you will of course wish to consult with your husband. But I repeat, it is yours to make.’

Anne’s face cracked into one of her rare grins: ‘Do you know to whom I am indebted for all these bold proposals, Mrs Collins? It is Colonel Fitzwilliam himself. Oh, not that I have mentioned any word of this to him, never fear. But it was he who first unwittingly instigated the idea, when he proposed fostering a son, should we marry. And it then occurred to me that I need not marry in order to foster or even adopt a son. I could have my cake and eat it, as the saying goes.

‘But I think I have caused enough alarm and shock for the day. Speaking of cake, let us go and drink tea in the house, and ensure that you eat something fortifying. My mother will be glad to see you, and will find some matter of importance to instruct you on, I am sure. And then we shall call the carriage so that you may go home in comfort. I have an interest beyond the usual in the safe delivery of this child.’

Back at home, where all was routine and predictable, Charlotte reclined on a chaise-longue and tried to disentangle all she had heard and felt. The room still rocked a little whenever she tried to imagine her child – Mr Collins’s son? Jacob’s son? – as the future master of Rosings. But hard as it was to resist wild surmise, she could not anticipate too much: the child right now thudding its feet inside the drum of her belly might well be a girl. She focused on the real miracle the morning had vouchsafed: her girls – including this coming child – would be provided for, and while she did not dare to quite believe Anne’s munificent promises just yet, she had no doubt of their sincerity. This brought on such fervent gratitude and relief as to occasion both tears and prayers of thanks: only her bulk prevented her sinking to her knees.