William Knight was the first to come under scrutiny, which was a relief: no one on earth could object to sweet William. Also, he was destined for the Church – what could be more satisfactory than that? But next up was Ned, and Fanny’s heart sank. It was not that she was embarrassed by her brother or her husband-to-be – each man was excellent, in his own way. They were simply different, that was all. But still, surely for her sake, some commonality might somewhere be found …

‘And what occupies you, Knight?’ Sir Edward’s voice seemed a little louder than usual. One might even call it a boom. She could hear the low, stifled giggles of her sisters.

Ned beamed. ‘An excellent question, sir, at this time of year. On the cusp of the seasons, one never knows quite which way to turn, eh?’ He put down his fork and leaned back in his chair. ‘Still the weather for cricket, of course. Spot of bathing? Not yet out of the question, as this afternoon proved.’ A hand through the hair. ‘But then along come those infernal birds …’ He brought a phantom gun to his shoulder, narrowed one eye, groped for an imaginary trigger. ‘Irresistible, obviously. So …’ He spread out his hands in an invitation of sympathy. ‘Truly hard to commit, one way or the other.’

Sir Edward sat, flushed and speechless; Ned smiled his winning smile; Mr Austen Knight interceded as an innkeeper might at a brawl.

‘On the business side,’ Mr Austen Knight rushed to explain, ‘my son has recently begun living on our Hampshire estate, over at Chawton. It is a happy arrangement that suits us both very well. Does it not, Ned?

Ned, at last aware that he had somehow committed a rare social failure without quite putting his finger on how, nodded.

‘I continue to run things here, while he learns the business of estate management over there, beneath my watchful eye. I must say’– Mr Austen Knight smiled – ‘that, so far, I am delighted with the aptitude, diligence and skill he has shown. I am already confident that, in time, Ned will prove a worthy heir and head of the Knight family.’

Sir Edward gave a still-sceptical grunt.

‘And of course’ – Mr Austen Knight clearly felt yet more might be helpful – ‘other options are being considered.’

Ned, mildly panicked, looked at his father, seemingly requiring a reminder as to what these options might be.

‘Last evening,’ Mr Austen Knight said, his eyes on his son, in the tones of a tutor coaching a pupil, ‘we were discussing the seat in Hampshire and the possibility that Ned might stand for Parliament, were we not?’