Fanny paused to collect herself and adopted what she liked to call her Voice of Authority. ‘Sayce, I fear I was woken too early. Perhaps you would be kind enough to see that I am not further disturbed, till I have caught up on my sleep.’

And as the maid made to leave, she casually added: ‘Oh, one small, further matter. Might I ask if my husband has yet been informed?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Sayce, suitably subordinate now, bobbed into a curtsey. ‘Thought it best you heard before him.’

‘Quite so.’ Fanny nodded. ‘Thank you then, Sayce. I think that will be all.’

Fanny climbed back into bed – reached out a limp arm for another dose of salts – then, once revived, pulled the coverlet up to her chin, as her mama had once done when tucking her in as a child. And with a new clarity of thought she set out to assess the grim situation.

But of course the maids would choose to tell Fanny first; no one was brave enough to beard Sir Edward with a crisis first thing in the morning. And no doubt – for was it not simply the Way of the World? – they would anyway class this as the mistress’s fault and the mistress’s business. The Mother was always to blame.

On the first point, she decided firmly against. She would not be the one to go to her husband. The rage would be such that he would inevitably lash out, say hurtful things – make wild accusations – which Fanny could then never forget. Better leave it to the valet, or the butler – or even the chimney sweep, should he be so unlucky. The kind wife would emerge at midday.

Meanwhile to the matter of her own guilt: Fanny plunged into a period of deep self-reflection and then surfaced almost at once. She had done nothing wrong! Sir Edward had dealt with all this alone, since the moment of the first proposal. It was he who had talked to his own daughter; he who had claimed that the girl had no feelings … Throughout, Fanny had stayed at a distance – to the extent that she had not even seen her own brother, whom she adored. Or had done, until ten minutes ago.

Indeed, had they not – all three of them – in some way betrayed Fanny? She had taken her husband’s reports in good faith. She had complimented Mary on her behaviour. Outrage rose in her breast. She had trusted Ned to come into her home …

And the next thought struck like an arrow. Of course, it explained their businesslike conversation. How else could Ned have communicated his plans? They had hatched their plot on that last Sunday morning, while she had stood by in the very next room.

Then could it even be said that Fanny had been in some way complicit? Surely not that! She had been entirely unwitting. Played for a fool. Had she not?