And after one more short burst of screaming – rabbit meets fox – they issued a joint promise to be on their absolute best for the dinner, and left Fanny in peace.

The delicate green of the drawing room was burnished with gold by the evening sun; the long windows were open, and the babble of happy conversations floated through on the evening air. Fanny stepped out to join the rest of the party – the shadows were lengthening, the air starting to cool – and looked for the Knatchbulls.

There was Mary Dorothea, standing, awkward, beside the white wrought-iron bench, upon which sat the two youngest Knight girls, fresh as sweet peas in their simple pale dresses. Fanny could not help but let out a satisfied sigh. What a fetching pair they were, so decorously placed with the white rambling rose as their backdrop – as if Reynolds himself had arranged them. She paused for a moment to enjoy the tableau.

Louisa and Cassy held hands and laughed together – they could amuse each other endlessly, those particular two. Mary Dorothea lurked, with one ear bent down as if she were struggling to catch what the others were saying. Fanny thought that a little odd. She could not quite judge at that distance, but was quite sure her girls would not have been mumbling in an excluding sort of a fashion. That wouldn’t be like them at all, although perhaps she ought to pop over just to check there’d been no sort of misunderstanding. But just as she began to approach, Ned burst through the garden door and strode to her side.

‘My little friends not down yet?’ He grabbed a glass from a tray and took a good draught of sherry. ‘Not too surprised. Quite the day of it. Knocked out, shouldn’t wonder. Ha!’ He breathed out, tipped up his glass and drained it.

‘Little friends?’ Fanny asked, distracted – her eyes were still on Louisa and Cassy.

‘The boys!’ Ned put his empty glass down on one passing tray. ‘Tickling trout, most of the day. Never tickled, poor little chap—’ Then he grabbed a new drink from another. ‘Time for some excellent bathing, too. Will did all his tricks and the poor fellow’s eyes half popped from his head when he—’

Fanny blinked, came to, turned and focused on Ned for the first time. ‘Sorry, dearest. I don’t think I was quite listening. Forgive me. Who are we talking about exactly? William did his tricks’ – she chose not to enquire what these tricks might be. That was best left until later – ‘for whom?’