He had, at least, been far too sensitive and polite to acknowledge what he might see as any drawbacks to the match. But his shortlist of advantages spoke volumes. A house, a pitch and a half-decent cook: a harsh summary. Was it a fair one?

The truth was, there were disadvantages. Ned knew them at once; it was time for Fanny to acknowledge them, too. First, she had always been an inveterate enemy of second marriages: it was surely impossible to love truly, deeply and twice. Sir Edward claimed to believe that he did, or could, love her and, of course, she might one day love him back. But the idea brought with it no guarantee. And was Sir Edward even attractive? In her panic, she could not quite recall. All told, as a match, this fell far below her romantic ideal.

More worrying still was the matter of her replacement. Godmersham could not run itself; her siblings needed some sort of mother figure; her papa must be supported. What if his solution was to marry again, too – hand the house to a stranger, her beloved siblings to a stepmother, which was famously a fate worse than death?

As the sun started to sink on her momentous day, Fanny decided to brave the outdoors once again. She marched to the Gothic Seat in search of some sign; hid in the Temple, awaiting divine guidance.

At last, and as ever, Fanny sought out her father. They took a seat on the terraces and called for refreshment.

‘Your romantic ideal?’ Mr Knight’s dish clattered back into its saucer as his hand shook. ‘Oh, my dear.’ He coughed gently, then patted her hair. ‘Were you a girl of eighteen – as was your sister Lizzie on her engagement – then perhaps that might concern me more, but—’

‘Oh, but of course!’ Fanny exclaimed. The danger of their possible conversational direction suddenly lit up before her. She must arrest it – ‘Forgive me! Foolish!’ – and create a diversion. Some variant on the moral of beggars and choosers, however veiled, would not boost one’s spirits. She moved the conversation briskly on to her principal worry: how would her papa cope without her? To her surprise, on this she found him complacent.

‘My dear, we shall all be perfectly fine.’ Her father patted her hand. ‘How many sisters do you have, after all? Surely one of them will be only too happy to take over as my strength and stay. Perhaps I flatter myself to think it not so very arduous a position, possibly even a pleasure at times?’ He issued a soothing smile. ‘Indeed. Quite so. And you will have the whole period of your engagement to show her the way.’