‘My lord? I know Lady Elstead and my mama are on poor terms, sir, but Miss Felbridge and I are deeply attached, at least deeply without obviously having overstepped the mark when permission had not yet been granted but … Forgive me, my lord, but it feels unfair, damned unfair.’

‘I am sorry. I feel for you, for you both. However, it would appear there are insurmountable obstacles that prevent me from …’

‘What are they, my lord?’

‘I am not at liberty to reveal them to you, Martley. Look, do not make this more difficult than it is, my boy.’

‘I do not think it could be more difficult, sir,’ Lord Martley managed, a little hoarsely. ‘I love your daughter, and she has indicated that the feeling is reciprocated. I … we … are left without hope.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I thank you for at least being honest with me, my lord, and not inventing some blemish just to fit your exc … reason. I will, with your permission, wish you good day.’ He swallowed hard, made Lord Elstead a stiff bow, and left.

A minute later Lady Elstead re-entered the room.

‘Well, did you tell him?’

‘I told him, madam, but it is not well, not well at all. I hope that your “overwhelming reason” is true, Maria, because if it is not, you have made two decent young people very, very unhappy, and in all possible respects that I could see, Martley would be an excellent match for Caroline. This has been your work, your decision. You tell her.’ He looked grim, and walked out. Lady Elstead gripped the back of a chair and closed her eyes.

Caroline was sitting upon her bed, with Henrietta beside her, and with a cousinly arm about her waist. They both looked to the door as it opened. Lady Elstead was not smiling, and Caroline’s heart sank.

‘Mama?’ Her voice was already tear-laden.

Lady Elstead looked acutely embarrassed, and also distressed.

‘I am sorry, Caroline, deeply, deeply sorry, but we simply cannot permit you to marry Martley.’

‘Is there anything in his character, Mama, that makes your decision just? Has there been a breath of scandal to his name? Is he some secret gamester?’ Caroline cried, in anguish. ‘Tell me if he has deceived me in any way.’

‘My dear child, I …’ Lady Elstead reached out a hand to her daughter, who shrank away. ‘You are young, so young. You cannot know everything.’

‘And if he was so “bad”, why have you encouraged Henrietta to look favourably upon him?’

‘I … we … He is a personable and decent young man. I can quite see why you would find him attractive, my dear. It is not your fault for developing a … tendre for him.’

‘I love him, Mama.’

‘You think you do, now, but … I am very, very sorry, Caroline, but you simply cannot, must not, will not, marry Martley. It is unthinkable.’ Lady Elstead pressed her handkerchief to her lips. She looked quite ill.