‘Ah yes. On that matter I think, Papa’ – Fanny paused to bite on her lip – ‘a long engagement might be the thing, in this instance, don’t you?’ Things were happening at a speed that did not quite suit her particular character. Fanny loathed all change, in particular change of the sudden variety. She simply must be given time to adapt.

‘Hmm?’ The cake was a fine date and walnut and Mr Austen Knight was selecting his slice with great care. ‘Indeed, if you so wish.’

‘And, sir, you would be so kind as to negotiate that when the whole business is—’

‘Of course. And rest assured, sweet Fanny …’ He sat back in his chair, brought his plate to his chest and lifted the cake to his lips. ‘Once all is accomplished’ – he was surely attempting to comfort, rather than wound – ‘we shall barely notice you gone.’

And with that, the decision was taken. Fanny’s nerves were by now shot completely to pieces. She could not possibly write to Sir Edward herself; her father kindly elected to do so on her behalf. This brought with it the added advantage that she could never now change her mind.

By the following day, the deal had been done.

And now, as appointed, Sir Edward was waiting downstairs to make his offer to Fanny in person.

‘Thank you, Sayce.’ She spoke firmly into the looking glass. She could delay things no longer. Her hair had been fussed at enough. ‘I think that’s the best we can do.’

CHAPTER III

As the clock in the hall chimed eleven, Fanny tapped, the door opened and the two men were revealed to her. Both stood on the rug in the heart of the library. She moved slowly towards them, eyes to the floor. At once, her father made his excuses and withdrew.

‘Miss Knight.’ The voice was a rich baritone.

‘Sir Edward.’ Fanny curtseyed, eyes still downcast even as she rose back to full height. Her horrible shyness had her well in its grip now. Her cheeks were warming at speed. She could not move; she could not speak: she may never do either again. It was a moment of pure torment – agony! Please, she thought – God, she beseeched – deliver me!

Then, as if by divine guidance, Sir Edward reached out to take her hand in his. And by that small and ordinary gesture, as a princess in a fairy tale, Fanny was released from her misery. He had touched her and she had, most unexpectedly, survived it! The blush beat a retreat. At last, she could look up and into the face of the man she was to marry.