‘I repeat, once again, that, whatever you have heard to the contrary, we have seen no evidence of a serious attachment on her part. Nor, indeed, has she given any indication that her estimation of Dr Knatchbull is in any way altered.’ And, with a great, final flourish of maternal authority, she declared: ‘We are her parents! Who could know better than we?’

And though she might doubt her own words – had every reason to suspect, indeed, that they could even be fraudulent – her father was left with no choice. With a sad sort of shrug that caused Fanny to wince, Mr Austen Knight surrendered at once.

‘Ned is a good man, Fan.’ He rose, gave a shake of his head and prepared to depart. ‘A fine man, indeed. You know it as well as I. If there is no chance with Mary, then he will be sure to accept it.’ He frowned. ‘What has led to this unfortunate misunderstanding, I cannot fathom. But of course, if the young lady herself has no interest, I shall not wait for Sir Edward. We have no more to discuss.’

CHAPTER XXIX

‘Good afternoon, Papa.’ Mary dropped into a deep curtsey, eyes to the Aubusson. ‘Thank you for seeing me.’

‘My dear child.’ Sir Edward rose from his seat at the desk. ‘However busy one’s day and onerous one’s duties, there must still be some time for one’s children. I hope you would agree that I have not once given you cause to find me anything less than the most approachable parent?’

Mary started to tremble, kept her head still averted while her unrested mind spun out of control. For what fresh hell was this? Last night had been terrible: Sir Edward’s wrath more extreme than she had ever before known – almost enough to shake the carriage clear of its wheel shaft. The intervening hours had been spent in steeling herself against more of the same. And so now to be met by such underhand tactics! For in the hands of one so swift to anger, sweet reason was a sharp weapon indeed.

‘But of course not, Papa.’ At last, she dared lift her gaze up to his and was met by a smile, though from a face puffy and pale. ‘Indeed, quite the kindest.’

He reached out to embrace her. ‘Now, how can I help you this morning?’

All through her life, and certainly since the loss of her mother, Mary had loved this man deeply. Even when that love had been challenged – and oh! how legion the challenges brought by his behaviour and temperament – she had fought to maintain it, with a dogged persistence. As she had so often reminded herself, whom else did she have? And now, though they might stand at a precipice – for this would, in all likelihood, be the most difficult interview – still, she was determined to ward against any ill feeling.