‘And his to you, I dare say?’ Ned plucked the fruit from a horse chestnut and lobbed it into a far bough. A twig fell to the ground.

‘But of course. I am his firstborn! His only daught—’ She shrugged then, suddenly helpless. ‘That is, I was for many long years.’

‘He is clearly a gentleman who demands – no, that is unfair – perhaps inspires loyalty in others. We have all noticed that with our dear Lady Knatchbull. Mind you, Fan always did have it in her – the best of us, in her way – but still, it does sometimes occur to one she can be loyal to a fault.’

Mary was tiring of this conversation. Defending herself was one thing; to mount a defence of the Mother was a whole new experience. Still, she was out on a limb now, and so she said wearily: ‘He is her husband! What would you expect?’

Though the trees were still dripping, it seemed that the rain had abated. They started to head through the wood to the village beyond.

‘I think,’ Ned announced as they came to the clearing, ‘when I am wed, I should prefer to aim for something more like equality.’

‘Oh, Mr Knight!’ All discomfort forgotten, Mary now laughed aloud. She might be bedazzled, but she was far from a fool. ‘A fine word, that: equality. I have heard gentlemen use it before even at my own father’s table. But how can he or you – or any man of your sex and your class – even begin to imagine what it might entail?’ Ned began to protest, but she held up her hand to forbid it. ‘We ladies talk of it too, by the way. Are we not the ones who might have more to gain? Yet, for us as for you, we might as well be discussing the topography of the Heavenly Kingdom itself … We have no earthly idea.’

‘Still,’ Ned insisted. For all the talk of equality, Mary saw that he did not enjoy being challenged. ‘I should like to think that I might be permitted the ambition at least. To be a fair husband and a kind, loving father: these are not trifles, Miss Knatchbull, whatever experience may have taught you. To my mind, there is the very foundation of a good Christian life. The qualities by which Our Lord Almighty will one day come to judge us, when we reach that very place.’

They had emerged by the blacksmith’s and it was time now to part. Despite the tone of their meeting – their first almost-dispute – Mary found she was smiling as she rode back to the stables. For was it her own, soft imagining or had his words not sounded almost as if he was drafting a contract?

If only she had thought to bring with her a pen.

CHAPTER XXVI