Mary was stunned. She had always presumed herself to be an encumbrance. That Fanny should at last suggest otherwise, and on this very night! She thought of her trunk, nicely packed; Booker, no doubt with her cloak on already, fretting upstairs. She tried to picture the house in the wake of her flight, but it was almost impossible: like imagining one’s own death. ‘Thank you, Mama,’ Mary repeated. As she twisted with guilt, there came a new surge of sympathy. ‘Though if you sometimes feel lonely, then I am sorry for it.’

Fanny sipped her tisane, thought for a little; replaced her cup in its saucer and then replied. ‘Not that, exactly. Not loneliness. Of course, I am no stranger to that evil. When I lived in Godmersham, even though my dear family was always about me, I did suffer, on occasion. Curious, is it not? We were such a crowd, yet I did sometimes feel a little at odds. But since …’ She studied the ceiling and seemed to choose her next words with care.

‘It was the good fortune of my life that your father chose me, my dear. I do know – we both know – that there are many in our circle who do not find him easy. He can show – shall we say – a certain harshness of feeling. He does not suffer fools!’ Fanny gave a fond laugh. ‘And I do believe there are people – just one or two, mind – who take him at surface and feel sorry for me. Well, they could not be more wrong, Mary.’

‘Indeed, Mama,’ Mary said fervently. And as it seemed that they were now to share a new candour, she went further: ‘My papa is a very good man. And yet, from time to time—’

Fanny held up her hand. ‘As we are both well aware, and do not need to discuss.’ She returned to her theme. ‘I suppose what I am wanting to say is that no one, outside of a marriage, can judge what goes on within it. Of course, there are some who make a great show of happiness – though who can ever know what really goes on? Apart from the servants, that is.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘But in truth, I once used to look upon others with pity. Now I despair at my ignorance.

‘My own marriage is a blessing, whatever the world may think of it. To be the one, particular light in the life of another – especially one so very distinguished as my darling husband – is both a privilege and the ultimate comfort. I fervently hope that – whether it be with Dr Knatchbull or another, equally good gentleman – in but a few years, you too will know such a happiness.’

Mary smiled, and affected an innocent air. Journey permitting, she could expect to know happiness by some time on Monday. Her flesh tingled again.