‘It has occurred to me that the suddenness of my engagement to your beloved papa might have come to you as something like, well, a shock, I suppose.’ Already Fanny erred on the side of dishonesty, for it had not occurred to her at all, until Marianne raised the matter.

Mary looked up from her work, betrayed no expression, then bent her head down again.

‘And now, perhaps, the – well – again all the talk of the possible immediacy of a wedding might have compounded that feeling?’

It seemed Fanny had posed a question to which there was no possible right answer. ‘I hope you are happy …’ Mary paused, as if her words were a difficult melody and the next bar was a rest. ‘… Mama?’

It was all so horribly awkward that, on the spur of the moment, Fanny decided to take a huge risk. She dropped the silk into her lap. ‘If I am to be completely honest – and as we are one day to live together, then I think that is what we should both try to be – it is not the way I would prefer it at all, and I have written to your father to say so.’

Fanny sighed. ‘Getting married is a very big step for a lady, as you, my dear, will learn in good time.’

It was not always easy to see the adult in a child and in Mary Dorothea it was nigh impossible. The idea that she might one day be courted or wed seemed more than unusually far-fetched, but stranger things had been known. And, anyway, it felt to Fanny like a kindness to talk to the girl as if she might have some sort of potential romantic future.

‘I do not take easily to change. It unsettles me rather – well, greatly indeed. And as we are not so very well acquainted, I would prefer more time for your father and me to get to know one another better.’

Mary gazed back at her, and slowly blinked.

‘Furthermore, Hatch is not quite ready for—’

Mary, who had spent some months living there with her father and brothers and clearly survived it, cocked her head to one side.

‘Altogether,’ Fanny rushed on, ‘it would be best for everybody if I could be present for one last Christmas in Godmersham. Marianne is not yet prepared, and—’

And when Fanny thought of her whole family coming together without her, she wanted to lie down and cry.

‘—and so on. I am sure your kind father will quite understand my position.’ Her voice was firm, to illustrate her confidence. ‘Besides which, I am of the view that it would be advantageous if you and I also had the opportunity to deepen our relationship. To which end, I have had a little idea.’

Mary began a great display of checking her stitches. Fanny found she was directing her most winning of smiles on the parting to Mary’s unfortunate hair.