This was indeed a change of heart. I waited, managing to hold my breath.

“Perhaps we should look for a bride for Robert,” his father said. “After all, by his age we were already wed.”

I sat down on the wooden settle that stood at right angles to William’s desk. The room was not designed for visitors to sit in comfort, deliberately so, as William enjoyed his solitude and tried to dissuade anyone from disturbing him. I ignored the hardness of the polished bench seat and drew myself up straight.

“It might serve,” I said cautiously. I did not want to appear too eager in case it had the reverse effect on William and made him shy away from the idea. “I wonder—” I traced a pattern in the bright wood of the armrest “—whether if he had a family, and an estate to run, he might find in that an outlet for his energies...”

William looked cautious. Now that I had introduced an idea with financial implications, the tone of the discussion had changed. Any grant of property to Robert would have implications for our own financial welfare and with the frequency of the recusancy fines we could not really afford a drop in income.

“I am not certain that Robert would be equal to the responsibility of managing an estate as yet,” William said. I noted, however, that he did not dismiss the idea out of hand, which encouraged me. And he had been the one to suggest we marry Robert off in the first place.

I leaned forward. “But he might become so,” I said. “Responsibility would help Robert mature and—” I played my trump card. “I do believe that if he falls in love with his wife, he will be utterly devoted to her. There is something in his nature, for good or ill, that attaches to whatever he loves and holds to it passionately. It could be the making of him. But we would need to give him a manor of his own. There he may settle and his family can grow.”

William stared at me for a long time. I could not tell what he was thinking. His expression was opaque. He and I had never experienced the sort of love I was speaking of, a passionate attachment that eclipsed all else. I had seen others share such feelings and it was a sadness to me that we did not, but I accepted that most marriages were made not in heaven but by calculating parents. William and I were more fortunate than many—we had mutual affection and respect. For Robert, though, I suspected marriage could be different. Unlike William, he did not have a cool, calculating mind. He was all fire and desire. If we found the right girl for him and he believed it was his choice, he might attach himself to her with unwavering devotion.

“Thomas Leigh has a daughter who might be suitable,” William said, after a moment. “His eldest child, Catherine. You will have seen her at Stratford, perhaps? She attended the mummers’ play last Christmas with her family.”