‘I think—’ Mary began.

And then they heard voices. It was a feature of the mansion that the stables were conveniently close to the entrance, and yet not visible from its door. Sound, though, did travel: the honeyed coaxing of a gentleman, for example – or a lady’s delicate laughter, indeed – came across clear as a bell.

Fanny and the girls stood – staring at each other – until, hand in hand, the owners of those voices appeared around the corner.

‘Miss Atkinson?’

The horror on the woman’s face was a picture.

‘William.’

‘Ah.’ William sidestepped away from the lady’s side. ‘Fanny,’ and strode to his sister. ‘We were not expecting—’ He went in to kiss her, and was met with the side of her bonnet.

‘Clearly.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘Miss Atkinson, perhaps you might be prevailed upon to resume your duties, just until dinner? You are too kind.’ She then took William’s arm. ‘My brother and I will now withdraw.

‘Thank you, Graves.’ She nodded at the footman as she passed him. ‘I think tea in the library.’

‘An attachment?’ Fanny exclaimed. ‘I suppose you must mean of the romantic variety?’ Dimly, she hoped for some alternate definition; when William nodded, her spirits sank. Oh, how she missed her dear husband and his excellent roar. ‘My dear boy …’ She plunged into the sofa and closed her dry eyes. ‘And how long has this’ – she searched for a neutral word, one that might denote even a little respect, then quickly surrendered – ‘nonsense been going on?’

‘It is not nonsense, Fanny, and I would be grateful if you did not demean us so.’ William stood with his back to her, and chose to declare himself to the large window and the view of the Weald. ‘We are in love.’

‘In love.’ Truly, all other words failed her. Did he not witness the Marianne saga? Apparently not, as it was all happening again with no lessons learned.

For there they were, faced with exactly the same issue. William was set for the church in Steventon. Their dear papa had recently spent five thousand pounds on improving the rectory. How now did William intend to furnish it, run it – live in it even – on the love of a governess, of all people? The boy was a fool.

‘William,’ Fanny began, ‘I must confess to a feeling of some disappointment. Both in you and, I am particularly sad to say, in Miss Atkinson. The woman is our employee, as you are quite well aware. And as such, her behaviour is truly depl—’