‘How would you like it if, before breakfast every morning – before I am dressed, even – you come to my room and we take tea in bed together? Just the two of us! I do think that would be rather cosy, don’t you?’

Mary looked up. ‘Oh.’ Her attempt at a smile was less than half-hearted. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ A particularly long minim. ‘Mama.’

CHAPTER VII

On the 24th day of October 1820 – seven short weeks from the surprising proposal – Fanny Knight suddenly found herself wed.

Unfortunately, her wish to delay the occasion for months – even years – did not coincide with Sir Edward’s own plans. It seemed he expected to be busy in Parliament in January and therefore required that Fanny be installed before then to look after his children and his home. And if she were to insist on one last Godmersham Christmas, then he would have no choice but to go abroad for at least two years.

Fanny found the logic of this last a little confusing – surely if he did go abroad, he could hardly leave children, home or indeed Parliament to their own devices. But such was his passion on the matter – she had never before heard him quite so aroused – that she gave in almost at once. After all, announcing the engagement had been traumatic enough; the idea of calling it off was too much to bear.

It was a brief, plain service in her beloved little Godmersham church, quite as solemn and serious as its participants could have possibly desired. And though she might have hoped – in fact, quite often dreamed of – a glorious moment afterwards, in the pretty churchyard with bells and villagers and all eyes upon her, that was not to be.

Fanny was forced to wait in the porch while her brothers constructed a canopy with which to protect her. Then, hunching beneath it – clutching her dress to keep hem from mud – she was forced to make a mad dash. There were certainly cries of great jubilation, she was sure of it, though they were all but extinguished by the noise of the rain. Rose petals were definitely thrown – she had organised that herself – even if they did plunge straight to earth and melt into the puddles. Fanny was touched by the sight of the well-wishers crowding the path from church to gate, but her progress was too swift to be considered triumphal. Before she could even try to enjoy it, she was enclosed in the deafening quiet of the coach, her new husband beside her.

‘That seemed to pass off very well.’ Sir Edward leaned forward to rap on the front wall of the coach and, with a lurch and a sway, they started, very slowly, to move.