‘As if we would ever be allowed,’ Cassy pointed out. ‘I say. Imagine an evening there with Lady Knatchbull.’ They collapsed into each other with a fit of the giggles. ‘Dear oh dear.’ Cassy collected herself. ‘But all the boys will arrive soon and, as Cakey always tells us, we must make our own entertainment. Oh, before we turn off, one more great landmark.’ She pulled Mary over and signalled to the left. ‘That is where my grandmama lives.’

‘Ah.’ Mary sprang to attention. ‘Then so does Miss Austen.’ It was a neat brick house with a porch around the door; its garden a tangle of roses and foxgloves; the bough of a plum tree rich with new fruit: modest, yet with a certain dignity and an immediate charm. As the carriage took to the right, Mary craned her neck to study it further. She was undoubtedly struck. Though the building itself could have no particular importance, still it had in its possession some unmistakeable air …

‘I must visit, of course,’ said Cassy. ‘Might you come with me, dearest? Would it be too dreary, after the dire year that you’ve had? The dear lady is frightfully old and—’

‘But of course,’ Mary cried. ‘I should love to meet Mrs Austen and spend more time with your aunt.’ Though they might joke about running wild in insalubrious places, in truth it was the last thing that either desired, being both sweet, good Christian girls. ‘And anyway, I am your sister now, pray do remember – so surely that makes her my grandmother, too.’

They were now on a lane, going away from the village, with low, ancient cottages clinging to one side and vast, green, open parkland falling away from the other.

Mary felt her heart lift. ‘But this is charming! I must fall ill more often, if this is the cure.’

‘Don’t you ever do that to me again.’ Cassy flung an arm around her neck, and held tight. ‘We cannot live without you and I hereby forbid it.’ Then a smile came into her voice. ‘Now, here we come … Wait and prepare …’

The carriage turned left from the lane, and Mary heard her own gasp. ‘So this is it.’

They took to the long, straight drive, ancient oak standing sentry; passed a small, pretty church nestled down in the dip. Their path rose up again; Mary saw barns and a stables. And then there, just below the hill’s brow, proud in its green parkland as a jewel upon velvet, she beheld the glorious vision of the Great House.

‘Oh, do look!’ Cassy was squealing. ‘Dear Ned is out there, awaiting us! How handsome he looks: soon to be master of all he surveys, with that darling hound there by his side. I rather think Chawton suits him completely.’