Meanwhile, Ned had sunk down into an armchair, placed an elegant foot over a shapely knee and was now smiling and returned to his habitual languor. ‘So not the worst one might fear, eh, Fan?’ He winked across at his sister, and clicked with his tongue. ‘Thought for a minute there our May was giving herself up to an axe murderer. Ha!’

‘Mr Knight!’ Sir Edward roared.

‘Hull-o?’ Ned bolted straight up again.

‘It is my considered opinion that this Billington is not a fit match for Miss Marianne, and his suit should be discouraged.’

‘Ned, dearest.’ At last, Fanny’s caring, sororal nature ceded way to matters of her own convenience. ‘What does Papa make of it? Is he minded to approve?’

It really would present difficulties if he did. Supposing Marianne and this ‘Billington’ were after a quick engagement? Godmersham had been running so well! As if she did not have her hands full already, no doubt the business of organising a replacement would devolve upon Fanny. Things generally did, after all.

‘Can’t say he is, old girl.’ Fanny caught her husband’s wince; Ned pressed on. ‘Not so much to do with the tithes or whatever, though that’ – he flung this in the direction of Sir Edward as one might a steak to a lion – ‘is obviously of the highest importance. More the age-old story. No money. Not a bean. Love in a cottage and all that.’ He opened both palms. ‘Well, a rectory in this case, but I gather rather a mean one. Cold. Damp. Coming down round the old ears. She says she won’t mind a bit, of course. But there we are. Such is love.’

‘Love, you say?’ Fanny repeated, puzzled. ‘Marianne considers herself to be actually in love?’ She felt oddly put out.

‘She does rather. And do you know, old girl, I am beginning to think I believe her,’ he replied. ‘Something’s up, that is for certain. Not exactly her usual sweet self. Charging around the place, drumming for supporters, stirring everything up into a terrible old rumpus. Dear Cakey’ – he turned to Sir Edward – ‘that’s our old nanny, by the way’ – then back to his sister – ‘ready to blockade herself into the nursery on the lovers’ behalf. A less likely Robespierre one could barely imagine, but that is where we have got to.’ He issued one last glance of regret towards the untroubled drinks tray.

‘Sir, my father will be most interested to hear your views on the matter.’ Ned smacked a hand on each thigh. ‘As he is determined to put an end to the whole affair.’