And clearly, one parent or other must have conducted an enquiry into Mary’s past movements for – to her absolute horror – Daniel the coachman was suddenly dismissed! Without even a day’s notice! The guilt of it almost defeated her; so deep was her despair that Mary would not even contest her father’s new strictures. How could she care about being forbidden from riding alone, from mixing with Godmersham – or missing out on Twelfth Night – when she had ruined the livelihood of an excellent man? While the parties went on without her, Mary stayed in her room and wept at her wickedness.

But on the 23rd day of January, she had no choice but to emerge. It was the Mother’s birthday, and Lady Knatchbull was very much one of those people who liked the day to be marked. So she went in to breakfast, extended her wishes – was met with little beyond the tilt of a head – and after a silent half-hour, took her leave.

Though she had checked once already, again Mary went through the letters on the hall table … Of course there was nothing. She was no longer surprised by it, but could not help but be pained. Three weeks since the proposal, yet already she was forsaken. Of course, Ned’s life would go on without her. He was not made to look back, only forward; he was never known to be still. A solitary tear splashed on to the pewter.

She was halfway up the stairs to her room, where she might cry unobserved, when a large, hairy boulder crashed into her legs and nearly felled her.

‘Lord Byron?’ she cried as she clung to the banister. ‘Lord Byron, you dear!’ Two great paws were pinned to her shoulders; his tongue licked the tears from her cheeks. ‘How – Where – Then is your master—?’ Heart now flooding with hope, she spun wildly about. Her eyes were met, as they were met once before, by a great halo of light. The sharp white winter’s morning came in at the doorway. A tall, dark figure strode through it with purpose.

‘Darling!’ he cried out at the sight of her. This was not a gentleman to be constrained by the presence of a footman. ‘Oh, to get even a glimpse!’ The commotion brought out the butler; Ned paid him no heed. ‘I have suffered such agonies! Pray will you come to me—’ He moved fast, intent on embracing her! Already, he was at the foot of the stairway!

‘No further!’ Mary called out in alarm. ‘My parents are there,’ she hissed, signalling at a solid oak door, ‘still at breakfast.’

He stopped as she bade. ‘Then let me speak quickly.’ At least he too now lowered his voice. ‘I am come here to speak to your father, in the belief that he must now be calmer, more rational. This time, he will hear me.’