Mary was stunned. All masculine eyes turned to her for some explanation. She was as baffled as they were.

‘My fiancée, and your future mother,’ Sir Edward went on, ‘is Miss Frances Knight of Godmersham Park—’

Mary felt a dead weight in the pit of her stomach. Surely he cannot … he did not … not that strange, awkward … oh, dear, good Papa!

And they had all been so happy.

CHAPTER XI

Three weeks had passed since Mary’s arrival in Godmersham, but still she felt nowhere near settled. Though she had, more or less, mastered the layout of both mansion and park, some corners of the family remained as yet uncharted. Of course, the daughters were all sorted out and straight in her head. Apart from the married one, Lizzie – gosh! The scariest creature! – the others all lived there, so Mary met with them daily.

When it came to the sons, though, she did still get into the most terrible muddle. Mary had formed the idea there were six of them (though she might yet be proved wrong), who, for most of their time, were apparently occupied somewhere other than Kent. But then at odd moments – generally just when the household had comfortably slumped into a period of peace – they would suddenly turn up in a pack: laughing and shouting at the top of their voices; taking pot shots at anything non-human that moved.

On those days, Mary tended to keep at a distance, intimidated – and yet not unintrigued. She preferred just to look on at a distance and, from there, try to discern each from the other. But it was simply no good, like trying to pick threads from a box full of yarn: they all clumped together. Only one seemed to stand out apart from the rest. And him she found hard to forget.

Ned, the family called him but he was Mr Knight still to Mary, of course, and young Mr Knight to the world. It was he who had, at that very first family dinner, astonished the universe – or amazed Mary, at least – by starting an argument with her beloved papa. In all her thirteen long years, she had never before seen such a spectacle.

Later, in the privacy of their carriage, Sir Edward had denounced his opponent – an outrage! A blackguard! – and the dutiful daughter had, as ever, concurred. What else could she do, after all? Her papa was her world and his approval was everything. His enemy must be her enemy, or she would risk his displeasure – and therein lurked an evil that could never be borne.

And fortunately, Mr Knight had not been seen in Godmersham since then.