Page 29

CHAPTER XXVIII

The next morning, the first day of January 1826, Fanny was alone in the breakfast room when the footman announced ‘Mr Austen Knight’.

‘Oh, dear good Papa.’ With a clatter, Fanny dropped dish upon saucer. ‘As you might well expect, you find us all in a deep state of shock and the most terrible anguish . My poor husband is suffering acutely, and I might add that I too feel more than a little aggrieved . What on this earth can have given Ned such a dreadful idea – mere folly , would you say, or has my brother quite lost his senses?’ She shook her head in despair. ‘Though, of course, it is Ned himself who should be begging forgiveness, I very much doubt that Sir Edward would see him. Still – he is out walking at the moment – my husband will take some comfort from knowing that you , dearest, have come in his place.’

She issued a kind smile – for Fanny had long held the role of family pacifist – signalled the muffins and passed the preserves. But her father, never before known to refuse any sweetmeat, refused this with a show of the flat of his hand.

‘My dear Fan,’ he began, more puzzled than stern, ‘we seem to be speaking somewhat at cross purposes. I am not here to apologise, rather to make the case for the match.’

‘The case ?’ Fanny felt the first stirrings of fear.

But her father’s attention had turned back to the breakfast. ‘Oh, perhaps I might indulge in a morsel. A crisis always gives one an appetite, do you not find?’ All comforts established, Mr Austen Knight sat back in his chair, took a mouthful and stared out of the window. ‘Fanny.’ He coughed. ‘My dear .’ He put down the plate and gathered his strength. ‘Clearly, the manner of last evening’s proposal did not go as well as it ought. It seems Sir Edward feels very strongly that Ned should have sought his permission first. Ned now sees that, regrets it and has, quite rightly, apologised.’

‘Well, that is something ,’ Fanny had to concede. ‘Though I still cannot quite understand what exactly—’

But her papa was not listening, appearing intent on his own speech rather than any discussion. ‘However, to deprive this good couple of happiness on a mere point of formality would be an injustice.’

Couple? Happiness? Then – oh – may the Good Lord protect her! Fanny had quite settled on lunacy as her preferred explanation. After all, one had recourse to doctors and treatments. But love – especially that of the wild and romantic variety … Here, love was the much greater evil. Cold dread ran through her veins.

Her father pressed on. ‘We in Godmersham – Ned’s side, so to speak – find the Hatch view a little short-sighted and hard to comprehend. If you will indulge me for a moment, let us examine it, minutely. In Ned’ – he pointed to a large ginger jar on the side table, most likely Ming – ‘we have a good-looking gentleman from an impeccable family, heir to an excellent estate – who, up to this instance, has charmed every parent in every fine drawing room up and down this great land.’

Fanny could hardly quarrel with that. She adored her dear brother and took great pride in her own, happy heritage; some of the things her husband had said last evening – well, she had found them rather hurtful. Of course, she had said nothing then, and she would say nothing now.

In the uncomfortable silence, her father helped himself to a second muffin, dabbed with a napkin, and then resumed.

‘And in Mary Dorothea’ – signalling a fruit dish of rich coloured glass; possibly Venetian – ‘we have a good-looking lady from a … a … good family, brought up to live as the chatelaine of an excellent estate.’

Fanny bridled. That was hardly a generous comparison. She had no memory of any such slight when her father was marrying her off to the Knatchbulls. Had she really been such a poor, desperate case? Once again, her feelings were hurt.

‘I must say, were they characters in a novel by your dear Aunt Jane … In fact, no! Your Aunt Jane would not have troubled herself to invent such a couple. For so impossible is it to think of any objection that they would be wed by page two and that would be that.’

Now, argue she must. This nonsense had to be stopped. ‘If I may, Papa, you seem to be forgetting one rather salient point. And that is there is no relationship between them to speak of! Ned and Mary may have seen each other about the place, certainly. Indeed, as you know, he has stayed with me a lot, of late.’ Or had he not been there for Fanny at all? It could not be true! She would not allow it! ‘However, they have shared no conversation, spent no hours alone … They are effectively strangers!’

Yet even as she spoke so very emphatically, Fanny could quite see the reverse might be true. It had been a difficult few months. Had she not been closeted away with her own darling baby? Had one’s hands not been unusually full ?

‘Well, this is peculiar.’ Her father now looked quite bemused. ‘Ned has assured me of a very deep friendship. And your sisters have all confirmed it to be genuine.’

The couple was in love … the girls were all in on the secret … and she had been excluded. It was as if Fanny were caught in a nightmare. She fought back the tears, gathered herself, sighed – and stared at the ceiling. The new gilding really was very successful. How lucky she was to live in a house with such perfect features. She really must make an effort to look at them more.

‘And Mary herself accepted him at once! How do we explain that?’

This was enough to bring Fanny out of self-pity and into a state of cold fury. ‘I can only presume that, in the moment, Ned turned the silly girl’s head.’ She brought her gaze back to her father and adopted a brisk tone. ‘But whatever her reasoning, ’tis of no matter. Sir Edward simply cannot approve any immediate match. Mary is simply too young.’

‘Ned is prepared to wait,’ her father shot back.

‘That is too kind.’ She smiled tightly. ‘Yet still immaterial. Sir Edward is particularly sensitive on the subject of scandal , and the mere thought that it might, once again, attach itself to his family upsets him greatly. Apart from all the other objections, he is very much of the view that Ned is, in effect, Mary Dorothea’s uncle and—’

‘Yet, my dear, he is not !’ Mr Knight thumped his fist on the table, giving Fanny rather a shock. ‘That is what is so hard to comprehend! There is no scandal here. Especially when all the world knows he is indeed plotting for the girl to marry his own brother.’

Fanny took a deep breath, determined to maintain her poise. There was, she must grant, some slight inconsistency in her husband’s argument. In fact, no – that was not quite true. Last night, when Sir Edward was with her and – even in his fury – able to carefully explain , in that excellent way of his, his position had seemed to make perfect sense. It was afterwards, in the solitary small hours, that the reasoning seemed rather to fall apart in her hands. So it was fortunate, really, that she would only ever allow herself one way to turn.

‘Papa,’ she began, keeping her voice as steady as she was able. ‘I shall not go against my husband on this matter – or any other, come to that. Nor, I know, would you expect me to. I have given you Sir Edward’s opinion, and I do not expect him to change it. Especially as Mary has not asked that he might. She did not utter a word on the subject last evening!

‘I repeat, once again, that, whatever you have heard to the contrary, we have seen no evidence of a serious attachment on her part. Nor, indeed, has she given any indication that her estimation of Dr Knatchbull is in any way altered.’ And, with a great, final flourish of maternal authority, she declared: ‘We are her parents! Who could know better than we ?’

And though she might doubt her own words – had every reason to suspect, indeed, that they could even be fraudulent – her father was left with no choice. With a sad sort of shrug that caused Fanny to wince, Mr Austen Knight surrendered at once.

‘Ned is a good man, Fan.’ He rose, gave a shake of his head and prepared to depart. ‘A fine man, indeed. You know it as well as I. If there is no chance with Mary, then he will be sure to accept it.’ He frowned. ‘What has led to this unfortunate misunderstanding, I cannot fathom. But of course, if the young lady herself has no interest, I shall not wait for Sir Edward. We have no more to discuss.’