But there was no going on. Ned was out of his seat. His lips were on hers. And Mary felt it again – the great heat! Those fireworks! Then Lady Banks let out a loud snore and, with a laugh and a grimace, he shot back to his seat.

Gasping, Mary fell back against hers, closed her eyes – caught her breath – until something quite close to calm was restored to her being and she could finally speak again.

‘I can assure you,’ she began, with her palm to her breast. Though her voice was now steady, her heart was not yet. ‘I am decided and, sir, I too have thought deeply about what this entails. My brothers are growing and have no great need of me now. And their love is secure – there is no fear on that score. But, alas, my poor father … still – still – I can do nothing but care for his feelings.’ She felt no need to pretend in this company. Ned was a good man. He understood her. ‘So often in my life, since I was a small child, my father has spoken and acted in ways that should be repellent. And yet—’

‘Honour thy father and mother;’ he said, ‘which is the first commandment and promise …’

‘So ingrained in us all!’ She smiled then, but was now forlorn. ‘I fear it is no coincidence that, lately, Sir Edward has taken to reading that passage every night after dinner.’

‘And does he break off then?’ Lady Banks was, all of a sudden, sharp and awake. ‘Or does he run on? Oh, I may be the widow of a Man of Science, my dear, but still I know the Good Book as well as any fine parson. And, ye fathers – that’s how it continues – And, ye fathers, pr-r-rovoke not your children to wrath.

‘The Lord can speak unto us of honour as much as He likes. But then, the Lord has never had to suffer Sir Edward when his temper is up.’

CHAPTER XXXII

What Fanny found so splendid about that particular spring of 1826 was that the very best of Kent appeared to be gathered in Town, so that one could almost ignore all the tiresome, latest distractions – the cream of society – and fancy oneself still in the country. Lady Banks, always a generous hostess and amusing companion, was, as usual, ensconced in Portland Place. Several other kind neighbours were scattered about, but a short walk away. And, now May was almost upon them, a portion of the Godmersham family was due to arrive and join the good Kentish throng. Mr Knight was bringing George, William and Cassy and they would put up at the Brunswick Hotel – though, of course, the families would combine whenever possible. Would they not?