Hester nodded and drew a smooth swift line on the page, the tulip’s curving veil-like leaf. ‘It is an awful thing to lose your money. My father used to have a shop of artists’ supplies, he lost his money when he fell sick. When he died there was nothing left for us at all. The only money we had was on a ship coming from the West Indies. It did not arrive for a year. In that year, as I sold first the carpet and the curtains, and then every stick of furniture we had, and then my dresses too, I swore that I would never be poor again.’

She gave him a quick sideways glance. ‘I learned that nothing matters as much as holding on to what you have.’

‘There is God’s guidance and your faith,’ John suggested.

She nodded. ‘I don’t deny it. But when you have sold your chair and are sitting on a small chest which holds every single thing you own, you gain a good deal of interest in the life here, and less in the life hereafter.’

Jane would have been appalled at such free speech, but John was not. ‘A hard lesson for a young woman,’ he commented.

‘It’s a hard world for a young woman, for anyone without a secure place,’ she said. Her eyes followed the tulip’s neck and her charcoal drew a swift line on the page. John watched her at work. She made it look absurdly easy. She was a plain girl, he thought, plain-featured and plain-spoken, and he thought that his wife Elizabeth would have liked her enormously. A straightforward girl who could be relied on to run a small business, a sensible girl who would look for reliability and dependability in a husband and not necessarily expect more. A girl who knew the value of money, not a spendthrift woman from court. A good girl who would care for children who needed a mother.

‘D’you like children?’ he asked abruptly.

She drew another smooth line for the tulip’s sensuous wavy stem. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I hope to have children of my own one day.’

‘You might marry a man who has children already,’ John said.

She shot him an acute glance over the top of her drawing block. ‘I’d have no objection.’

‘Even if they were up and running around?’ John asked incautiously, thinking of Frances and her determined nature. ‘Another woman’s children, brought up in her ways and not yours?’

‘You are thinking of your grandchildren,’ she said, cutting through his hedging with one swift slice. ‘My uncle has told you that I have a good dowry and you are wondering if I would care for your grandchildren.’

John choked slightly on his pipe. ‘You are a frank speaker,’ he exclaimed.