‘Oh, darling, do stop.’ Mary nudged her and laughed. ‘I have never before even seen a bow, let alone held one. You must have noticed by now that my papa “deplores all frivolity”.’ She had recently perfected a fair imitation of Sir Edward’s excellent roar. ‘We are never permitted any sort of fun whatsoever.’ It felt a little disloyal to even admit that aloud, but the Knights had rather opened her eyes to a more cheerful way of living. ‘How lucky I am to be staying here at Godmersham, with lovely you. And Emily A, of course.’

‘Oh, Emily A …’ Cassy mock-swooned. ‘Did my heart love till now?’

Their crush on the governess was one of the many joys that they shared.

‘Forswear it sight!’ Mary returned. ‘For I ne’er saw—’

‘Soppy nonsense!’ Norton, slower than the Knight boys and therefore considerably behind, came up and joined them. The girls felt obliged to stop and wait while he lifted his boots and emptied a gallon of river from each. ‘Fancy quoting all that flowery stuff on a day like today. Look about you, for once.’

Mary did as she was bidden, saw the temple on the hill, the sheep in the meadow – the mansion ahead, sitting snug in its Park – and a few lines of Cowper swam into her mind:

‘The sloping land recedes into the clouds;

Displaying on its varied side the grace

Of hedgerow beauties numberless …’

‘The nonsense that governess has put in your heads is nothing short of a scandal.’ He harrumphed with contempt. ‘Far too much literature and too little sense. How can you stand here and dwell on the picturesque, when in fact, it is naught but a splendid arena for sporting and games? You see, that is how we men see things.’ Norton was now fifteen years of age. ‘Lord, but women are irrational creatures. And why must you go about holding hands all the time, as if you are sisters?’ He wrenched them apart and forced himself in. ‘You are not and nor can you ever be, so I don’t know why you insist on pretending.’

‘Darling!’ Mary exclaimed. ‘Are you jealous? You are! You’re jealous!’

‘What rot!’ Norton muttered under his breath, but Mary could see that he blushed.

They started walking again. ‘Anyway,’ Cassy said, cheerful. ‘We are. Fanny has been like a mother to me for most of my life, and now she is a mother to Mary – sort of.’ The two girls shared a look. ‘So that almost makes us sisters. And it makes not a jot of difference to me whether you mind it or not. I love Mary to bits and that is that.’

Oh! After those long years of loneliness … Mary’s heart danced a jig.