‘Now, to serious business, for we have not much time.’ Ned’s words came rapidly, his voice at last hushed. ‘The latest entreaty found no favour with Sir Edward. The reply was unfriendly, that avenue now closed. Since then, I have thought long and hard about that which is, in all senses, our last resort. And, not without some great trepidation, I hereby conclude that – if your feelings do match my own – there is no other option.’

Mary sank back in her chair, stared at this perfect gentleman and let herself be overwhelmed by the moment. He was willing to do this and for her! And so they were soon to be married! Their love had been challenged and yet it had survived. Furthermore, in one mental footnote, Mary acknowledged that, to safeguard her reputation, Ned was now gallantly claiming her audacious plan as his own. She could leap into his lap, dance around the drawing room – rush into the street and shout to the world! – but Ned had still more to say.

‘This morning, I conferred with my father and, though I made no confession and kept the matter vague rather than specific, he gave me every impression that we would be forgiven by him, at least. It is hardly surprising. After all, what good, loving parent would cast out his own child? The thought is fantastic. So one question remains, though still it pains me to ask it. My darling, are you truly willing to take all the many, great risks that elopement entails?’

The dread word was now spoken. Mary quailed at its awe. ‘Yes …’ she began, but there was a new note to her voice.

And Ned, of course, caught it. ‘I shall not – never will – pressure you!’ he insisted at once. ‘This is no minor matter and, I must warn you, to some it will appear as an enormity. We must be braced for vile gossip and loathsome attention. There may even be a risk of a few months’ estrangement between you and your family. To think of your dear younger brothers, the precious bond between siblings … Madam, I beseech you, if you now fear it too much—’

‘Ha! You imagine I fear this?’ Mary burst out in protest. ‘Oh, Mr Knight! Do you not see the alternative? It is to watch as my future burns bright on the altar of my father’s whim.’ Her voice caught. She plunged on. ‘And then what would become of us? You – oh, you would still know your freedoms. But I beg you think now of my life. What then is left to me?

‘That, sir, is something to fear!’

The very idea of that future brought tears to her eyes. Blinking, she saw they were matched by his own.

‘Oh, my dear one,’ she said then, with new tenderness. ‘If I can have you … If we can, at last—’