‘However, my little girl: I suggest you r-r-root her out and bring her to me at once.’ Lady Banks unpinned her hat. Wild white hair stood out on all sides like a dandelion meadow in seed. ‘Mary Dorothea is why I am here, after all.’ She peeled off her gloves. ‘And in my view, it is as well, Edward’ – she tossed a shawl from her shoulders and into the hands of a waiting maid – ‘to have some vague idea of one’s own children’s whereabouts.’ Leaning on her cane, she headed straight for the drawing room without being guided.

Fanny and Sir Edward exchanged glances of terror, before he took to the stairs and she picked up her skirts and trotted off in pursuit of their guest.

‘Dear, oh dear.’ Lady Banks limped towards the ‘best’ chair – Sir Edward’s, indeed – and installed herself within it. ‘Poor old Hatch. I have not been here since my late sister’s day. Those ghastly subsequent wives did make a mess of it, did they not?’ Her eye was caught by a length of silk peeling back from the wall. ‘Do look!’ She shook her head sadly. ‘I regret to inform you, my dear Lady Knatchbull, that your late father-in-law – may God rest his soul, though He may have other priorities and no mortal could blame Him – was the most terrible rogue.

‘Still, I have discussed it with your husband. What is wealth, after all, if one cannot help one’s young when help is required?’

Was she referring to Fanny and Sir Edward? How very refreshing to be thought of as young.

‘I suggest you sit there.’ Lady Banks pointed her cane at a harder chair, a little further from the fire. ‘You might find it a trifle more sanitary than the rest.

‘Now. I have been very much looking forward to this little interview. I am sorry we have not met before now. It was sweet of you to ask me and my fault entirely, but on this matter my views are well known: there is only one thing worse than a funeral, and that is a wedding. Tell me, my dear, was it completely unbearable?’ Her face twisted with sympathy. ‘In my view, it is generally the poor bride who suffers the most.’

While Fanny merely stared at her blankly, her ladyship glanced around, saw the hovering footman and spoke up: ‘Shall we take tea?

‘And here we are,’ Lady Banks began as footmen and maids went into a flurry, ‘gathering for Christmas: a time to r-r-reflect.’ She gazed into the flames of the fire. ‘We have had very different years, you and I – you having gained a husband, and I having lost one.’

‘May I offer my deepest condolences,’ Fanny began. These were the first words she had spoken since the great guest’s arrival. ‘I am so sorry to miss the honour of meeting Sir Joseph. He was a great man, so very distinguished—’