For all the pleasure with which she looked forward to the rest of the season, Fanny did have to own to some minor trepidation. Though Marianne was with her – the dear girl was proving to be such a treasure – she had not seen her father or siblings since her own arrival in London. There had been letters between them all, of course, but none of an intimate nature. And, in the odd, uncertain moment, Fanny did wonder if there was not a certain froideur between the Knights and the Knatchbulls. Though still hoping to soon be proved wrong, she was already sure in her mind that, if there were indeed any unpleasantness, there was no question whatsoever upon whom the blame could be laid.

Ned was not due to appear this time, thank goodness – business in Hampshire was to keep him safely away. Nevertheless, Fanny hardly dared relax, for it seemed he had lately developed a skill for creating disturbance even from afar. What on earth had possessed him to prevail on their father to write to Sir Edward – and why the good man had even thought to comply – Fanny could not at all fathom. Her husband had only just recovered from the affront of the proposal, and then she had had to deal with all that. Oh, the slurs he had flung at her own flesh and blood! Much as she tried to pretend otherwise, they did strike at her heart. The whole episode had caused such an upset that Fanny could not forgive it – especially as Mary herself had assured her father that, in her own mind, nothing had changed.

She sighed deeply, rested her hands on her growing stomach and then suddenly smiled. Oddly enough – the thought only then just occurred – the person who gave Fanny the least worry these days was Mary Dorothea. Though the irony was glaring, it was simply a fact: since their arrival in Town, Mary’s conduct had been pleasingly faultless. And when Fanny thought of the terrible saga of Sir Edward’s own lovelorn sister, who had had to be imprisoned in her room by day and by night, she could only count her own blessings.