But Mary made no reply. What cared she for Ned, or even his dog in that moment? Her eyes were for the house only; the house alone. It was solid white stucco, softened by stone gables and harked back to the time of Elizabeth’s reign. In her fond imaginings, she could see a fair lady, bedecked in a coif, gazing back through the mullion.

This was quite unlike Hatch, or Godmersham, or any other of the houses which Mary knew well. They were all modern affairs, created to feed a desire for ostentation and luxury. The Great House was born some centuries before, and from a more serious purpose: shelter for large, long generations; the manor upon which the entire village had cause to rely. Put beside this, the product of the mere present looked flimsy; inferior.

Mary was struck by the thought that to be mistress of Chawton would be something indeed.

She looked forward to dinner with considerable interest and only some trepidation. After all, this was the first time that Sir Edward and young Mr Knight had been at the same table since that first, unfortunate occasion when her parents were newly engaged. Though a repeat of those fireworks would be more than diverting, Mary presumed that their host would be using this opportunity to make amends for the past. For surely Ned would now want to curry favour with her papa? Everyone else did, after all. By some power which she could not quite understand, Sir Edward Knatchbull was simply one of those men whom other men were desperate to please.

As they all took to their seats in the ancient, oak-panelled room, charged their plates and turned to their food, Ned began his remarks in expected fashion. ‘It is an honour and a pleasure to have you all here at the Great House.’

Dull pleasantries were exchanged, Mary’s interest in the diners started to wane, and she directed it instead at the cracked portraits in oil lining the walls. Who were all those subjects? Had they, too, once suffered tedium at this very table? If so, she wondered how they had borne it … And just then, Ned picked up all caution as if it were a cricket ball and hurled it away, high and long, into the close, dining room air.

‘Indeed, Sir Edward, you were in my thoughts only last week when, strangely enough, I happened to find myself in your house on Great George Street.’

‘What on earth—?’ Fanny exclaimed, dropping her fork. ‘But we have not been there for some months!’

Sir Edward said nothing, though Mary could not help but notice his face had turned purple.