The sound of the stream that ran fast-flowing through the wooded vale beside the house filled the silence between us agreeably. The vale and the stone-walled fields surrounding the policies were all bathed in milky moonlight. ‘Our grandfather chose well when he built here,’ I told him. ‘The stream gives us milling-power and clean water, we have wool for weaving, grain to make bread and ale, and fat for lamps and soap. The sheep give us fleeces to sell to the monks, we have fish in the sea, meat on the hoof and crops in the fields. Between us we make most things we need and I keep the accounts and the recipes. Our household works quite well. You will see if you stay a while.’

‘I suspect that it works because you toil from dawn to dusk, Jane. And where and when did you get an education, which you clearly have?’

‘That was due to my mother. She spent her girlhood in a convent and taught us all to read and write and reckon. I am trying to ensure that Evan learns now but it is not easy, especially at this time of year when he is needed on the land. In winter it is easier to keep him at his letters. Our mother intended him for the priesthood but I cannot imagine that happening now. He is bright but not at all bookish.’ I knew I was talking too much but the words just seemed to spill out of me.

Jasper screwed up his face and shook his head in exasperation. ‘I feel I should remember your mother. Her name was Agnes was it not? But tragically I cannot even picture my own. Edmund says he can but if so he does not describe her very well. He makes her sound like a royal doll, which I am sure she was not.’

I felt a stab of pity for him. My memories of my mother were so vivid that sometimes when I was quietly sewing I felt she was sitting at my shoulder. ‘My mother always spoke of yours as an angel. There is no doubt that she was beautiful, whereas mine was like me – I think homely is the word.’

Jasper gave a derisive snort. ‘In my vocabulary homely is a polite word for ugly – and that you are not, Jane! I would say that comely is the proper word – or pretty – certainly attractive! With sweeping eyelashes like yours how could you be anything else?’

I dropped my head, hoping the white glare of moonlight would disguise the sudden colour that rushed to my cheeks. Compliments did not flow freely in our family and my reaction to Jasper’s was involuntary and regrettably rather gauche. ‘Not beautiful anyway,’ I muttered, clenching my hands together in my lap.