The ball was a late one – they were out till past three – so the next day, both families laid low in their own houses. It was New Year’s Eve when Mary was brought back to Godmersham. She went at once to find Cassy up in her room. The gentlemen were out shooting and the girls had agreed to start work on their costumes for the Twelfth Night Masquerade. Mary was much looking forward to it and keen to share her ideas.

‘I rather think we should try the Tudor style,’ she began in her excitement, even as she walked through the door. ‘You in a crimson and – Cass! Is something the matter?’

Cassy stayed in the armchair, hands in her lap, and raised one pretty, dark eyebrow. ‘I know.’

Mary tried to dissemble. ‘Know what, dearest? I can’t think what you mean.’

‘We will have no more of that, thank you. I fear you are rumbled. Do you think I learned nothing from all those romances we used to devour? Excuse me, but I am an expert. I knew what to look for and saw it at once. You danced with George for half of the night!’

‘George?’ Mary fell on the bed and burst into laughter. ‘Of course he is a darling but I promise you, Cass’ – she made the sign of the cross – ‘I am not in love with George!’

‘I know that, you fool.’ Cassy laughed then, too, and went over to embrace her. ‘There is nothing between you two, as there is nothing between you and any of the other poor swains who took you on to the floor. There was just one who did not even dare ask. Who kept well away … And that gentleman is—’

A knock came on the door, and Marianne put her head round. ‘Ah, there you are, Mary. I thought I should find you here. I come with a message.’ Her expression was puzzled. ‘Our brother has asked if you might meet him down in the orangery?’

Cassy gave a great whoop of triumph; Mary became flustered.

‘There must be some mistake, Marianne. They are all out on the shoot …’

‘Ned stayed behind,’ Marianne explained, matter-of-fact. ‘Most unlike him to miss it, I completely agree. Yet miss it he has … Shall you go to him or shall I—’

But with a loud cry of ‘Happy New Year, darling!’ Cassy had already pushed her out through the door.

Mary found Ned pacing across the black-and-white chequered floor. Candlelight danced in the mirrors. A fine fire roared in the grate. He turned as she slipped through the long door – that smooth, lovely face contorted with agony. She walked slowly towards him.

‘You came,’ he sighed, and his whole being relaxed.

So somehow he had doubted her? He too had suffered uncertainty? The insight astonished her. So, in this, they were equals!