Much later, after everyone had been rendered warm and dry after the afternoon’s misadventures, and Mrs Darcy had at last left her, after twice instructing the servants to keep her bedroom fire burning, Charlotte found herself with time to reflect. She had been doubly struck by both terror and the surprise of that terror. A monster had leapt at her and pinned her to the ground, leaving her gasping as if she were one of the fish in the river and had been tossed into cruel air. No matter that she was safe, her child was safe, she was among friends: a giant hand had squeezed her chest, sending panic racing along her nerves. No amount of reasoning with herself, nor the comforting of her companions, could assuage or stop the shuddering that still wracked her body intermittently. Perhaps it was the reminder of how quickly disaster could step into the path, how helpless mortals were in the face of it. Fate could seize them by the scruffs of their necks, rendering them as helpless as fieldmice in the jaws of the fox – indeed, there were few shocks as great as at those moments.

But then had come the rescue: the sight of Jacob wading out of the river, Sarah safe in his arms, Charlotte’s worst terror turning to relief in a tumult of feelings so sharply pitched as to be almost unendurable – the scene was imprinted in her mind, playing again and again.

Her heart was still so full, she found she needed to find some form of expression, and went to the writing-desk to seek pen and paper.

My dear William,

Pray be assured we are all well and in good heart, but what an alarm we suffered today! We were walking beside the river that flows through the valley. The girls were, I regret, not behaving as well as they ought, and as a result of some horseplay, Sarah was accidentally plunged into the stream. The river was running strongly, and the current immediately seized at her little form. Oh, the sight of her head disappearing under the surface! It will haunt me forever. My instinct was to throw myself after her but, as you know, I cannot swim and was helpless to aid her. I believe that was the worst, in thinking back on it: my powerlessness.

By the mercy of Providence, we were not alone – Mrs Darcy and I were accompanied by one Herr Rosenstein, a piano-tuner from Austria here to set Miss Darcy’s instruments to rights. He did not hesitate: he dived in at once and plucked Sarah from the torrent – she was too shocked even to struggle – and had her on the bank before we could so much as call out for help.