‘If that proves to be so, well …’ Her ladyship was starting to enjoy herself. There was an unmistakeable twinkle in her old eye. ‘Who could deny the odd nap in a chair to one of my advancing years? I shall oblige you by coming over all Fairfax, and afford you some privacy.’ The mention of her companion’s name seemed to darken her mood again. ‘Wretched woman. She will have to go.’

Cheered though she was by this scheme, Mary could not see a way of getting word through to Ned. Though she did not believe herself to be under arrest, still she could be sure that Fanny was monitoring her letters, because that had gone on for some years. And while she suspected that Cassy would come to her aid, still Mary was loath to ask her. There was now so much friction between the Knights and the Knatchbulls and it would be wrong to create more. Mary felt awkward enough as it was.

The following day was the last of the holidays for the younger boys before their new term in Winchester, and Fanny had granted them one, last, special outing. She could not herself go, being both loath to leave her first baby and made to feel exceedingly indifferent by the next. But a manservant was commissioned to provide a suitable escort, with Mary and Booker in strong support.

When the party arrived at the Exeter Exchange, the boys were in a state of advanced excitement, but Mary was in no sort of mood for it. While they admired the yeoman on guard at the entrance, loudly wishing one day to be him, she heard them with bitterness. The dear little fools: they still lived under the illusion that adulthood was all choice and potential, while she knew it brought only laws and denial.

Nor, once they had fought their way through the multitudes and queued up the stairs for something close to eternity, could she like what she found. Gawping at wild animals trapped behind bars in close, airless rooms was very much not her idea of a treat. Of course, the boys were transported, one moment teasing an old lion with mange; the next throwing peel, stolen from Cook for the purpose, at the monkeys. And Booker was having the time of her life. Mary kept a large handkerchief over her face – the smell was appalling – and longed for it all to be over.