‘It is, indisputably, convenient,’ her papa conceded. ‘But we must not let that distract from the fact that you, Miss Frances Knight, have captured his heart. Sir Edward spied you first last summer, at the Canterbury Races; then at the Fountain in the New Year. Our dinner here in July was more successful than you could possibly know. Yes, Sir Edward wants to get married, but he also very much desires to make you his wife. Both those things are true, and here’ – he tapped the letter still clutched in her hand – ‘on the record.

‘The only unknown now, my dear, is’ – he tipped Fanny’s chin and looked into her eyes – ‘what is your answer?’

CHAPTER II

On 1 September, Fanny sat at her dressing table and stared into the glass while Sayce, her maid, dressed her hair. It seemed extraordinary that, on this historic occasion, her reflection appeared to be completely unaltered. How could this be? Inside she was turmoil, yet there was her same physical self: eyes still shaped like an almond in the identical blue; nose long and yet slender; brow high and wide; hair of rich brown. The only evidence of change in her appearance was her colour. For the past twenty minutes, she had watched the blush on her face as she might watch the ebb and flow of the tide on their holidays in Sandgate.

Though she would always rather be pale, the first bloom to her cheeks she thought not unbecoming. But – alas – it did not stop there. The pink then built to a puce, spread to her neck and, all of a sudden, she appeared like a turkey in fear for its life. That was when Sayce came to the rescue with iced compress and lavender oil, which was all very well. But what, Fanny wanted to know, would happen at eleven o’clock in – oh goodness! – a mere half an hour, when she was due to be alone – entirely alone! – with Sir Edward in the library? There would be no Sayce then. With the dreadful weather – oh, when might it break? – she could hardly hope for even the slightest of breezes. Poor, kind Sir Edward: what would he make of his florid, hot, rather damp future bride?

Two long days had now passed since the interview in the library with her father, and Fanny felt she could look back with some pride on the composure she had mustered then. But, in truth, from the moment she left him – condemned to her own company; forced to confront her own future – she had fallen into the most terrible stew. And she so pragmatic and practical! The whole business was mortifying.