‘Papa, you already knew?’ Fanny pressed her palms into the pillows and sat up, ramrod. ‘This is not the first you have heard of the matter?’

Her father coughed, stood, made as if to perambulate, before losing confidence in the whole scheme and sitting quickly back down again. Fanny sensed he was nervous.

‘Perhaps, Fanny, if you cast your mind back’ – he was now focused intently on straightening his blotter – ‘you might remember the pleasant occasion upon which Sir Edward Knatchbull recently came here to dine?’

‘But of course, Papa. It was only last month!’ As if she wasn’t stirred up enough, Fanny felt the stirrings of impatience.

‘Quite so.’ It was suddenly imperative that the left side of the blotter be exactly perpendicular to the inkwell. ‘Then I can now explain that the arrangement followed a pleasant meeting between myself and the, er, the, um, gentleman in question.’

‘Indeed?’ Fanny felt rather affronted. She was, after all, the family’s intelligence. ‘And might I enquire where this meeting took place?’

Mr Knight looked up with the hangdog expression of a small boy admitting a crime. ‘In Canterbury,’ he replied miserably. ‘At the last Quarter Sessions.’ He cleared his throat. ‘As you may know, it is now six years since Sir Edward was widowed and his aim was to bravely continue as the dutiful, only parent to his much loved children. Having followed the same pattern myself, I know only too well how lonely and difficult such a situation can sometimes prove to be.’

Fanny stiffened. She had presumed that the immaculate care and concern which she had quite showered upon her father had been enough – more than enough – for him. That he should now suggest otherwise, after so many years of devotion: it was too much! Tears sprang to the daughter’s eyes. His confession struck Fanny as both terribly sad and a great personal slight. As they once used to say in the nursery: she had tried her absolute best.

Her father dropped his gaze. Perhaps after all it was the inkwell itself that was out of place? ‘Of course, with the death of his father, his situation is changed. Sir Edward has assumed the baronetcy, is now due to move into the family seat over at Mersham-le-Hatch and, when the House sits again, he will – by rights, perforce, as is quite natural – become the next Member of Parliament for East Kent.’

Ah. As the causes of the proposal were clarified, so the romance began swiftly to dim. Fanny could hardly help feeling a little humiliated. She retrieved from within her habitual, practical self; regathered her poise; rose from the armchair and started a stroll about the library.