‘Funnily enough, I did wonder myself. It can sometimes present problems to keep under one’s roof the local honey pot, and have to bear all the consequential buzzing about.’ Fanny had learned that the summer Lizzie came out. Young men seemed to pick up her scent from several counties away. ‘But I think with dear Mary that issue need not apply. The fact that she has always been rather – well – others might use the word plain, will have given her a good, sure foundation, I’m sure. She has built up great reserves of common sense and character.’ If only Fanny could be sure that was true. ‘Far too late now for her dear head to turn.’

‘Indeed.’ Sir Edward’s brow started to furrow, and his teeth chewed at his lip – the signs, Fanny now knew, that her husband was on the brink of supplying an opinion. ‘I have often worried that the marriage market has the potential to be an uncomfortable experience for the innocent young girl. And for Mary, in particular … Such a sensitive creature … I would not like to think of her becoming attached to some stranger …’

Fanny chose not to mention the yet greater threat posed by her own dear family. It was not only George, but all the Knight boys now came to Hatch rather often. The bad feeling occasioned by Miss Atkinson’s dismissal was completely forgotten, Fanny was forgiven and they all flocked once again. She did not wish to ban them from visiting now, but she must protect Mary and at all costs.

‘Perhaps it might help her if we were to narrow the choice, so to speak …’ He looked up and across to his wife with a keen sort of gaze. ‘My dear. Might you be so kind as to invite Dr Knatchbull to dine with us at his earliest convenience?’

‘Oh, Sir Edward!’ Fanny replied, touched. ‘How clever you are!’ The permission for a bit of controlled match-making was exactly her plan. ‘Dr Knatchbull, I take it, has a suitable friend …’

‘A friend?’ Sir Edward looked utterly baffled. ‘Wyndham?’ His jowls shook along with his head. ‘I would very much doubt it. We Knatchbulls tend not to go in for friends, as a rule.’

Fanny had that feeling one gets, when missing the last step on one’s descent down the stairs. ‘We are talking of the Dr Wyndham Knatchbull who is also your brother?’

‘Only half-brother, my dear. We are not from the same mother.’

‘Yes, yet—’ Fanny stopped, before breaking her own iron rule of arguing with her husband. But surely he could not be serious?