Fanny did not try to return to her work; she could hardly sit still. Those minutes lay out before her as an eternity. For, having been so sure in her mind that she was doing the right thing, doubt now assaulted her. She was hardly a natural conspirator – her devotions to the Good Lord had, happily, bent her mind towards Truth and Honesty. But now she must admit to a possible flaw in her plan. For could she trust that Ned was equally truthful? She had to hope so. But what about Mary? She had not the first clue as to what went on in the girl’s head. Surely, Fanny should have spoken to her first? Mary might be terrified – trapped, as she was, with a possible madman. Or equally she could be unleashed, and … Oh, dear Heavenly Father!

Fanny sat down on the nearest chair with an unladylike thump. Images came to her mind of what the couple might now be doing, cloistered in there alone. She rose and found herself leaning against the wall – ear pressed to silk. And only when she heard the unmistakeable hum of rational, businesslike conversation was she, at last, calm.

And with one minute to spare before their time was up – an encouraging sign in itself – the couple emerged from the parlour and Fanny joined them in the hall. She watched as they bade each other farewell in a respectable fashion: judged Mary demure and Ned, curiously, unruffled.

And, just to make sure, when he finally left, Fanny stood at the window and studied her brother as he walked down the street. Ned moved at a speed and had a bounce in his step, but that was no cause for concern. For did he not always, and was that not men in a nutshell? Though they might claim to know heartbreak, the masculine heart seemed to mend with remarkable ease.

There, Fanny thought to herself and returned to her work and her chair – this time sedately – where she proceeded to reflect on an extraordinary morning. So she had put all her faith in the word of her husband, and been proved right so to do. Was that not a fine lesson for every good, Christian wife?

It was most satisfactory all round. They could finally put the whole troublesome affair behind them, and no Knight had cause to resent Fanny, or attach any blame to her darling husband. And, as he had done already before and no doubt would soon do again, Ned was already moving on to his next entertainment.

CHAPTER XXXIII

In such an establishment as Number 20 Great George Street, there could be no secrets. So no sooner had young Mr Knight left than word quickly spread: the mistress was calm; the crisis now over. And at once, the household sank back into mundanity – placid and insular.