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“Well, of course, I should be delighted to invite Henry's friend. Indeed, invite whosoever you like, the more the merrier,” laughed Marianne. “I am sure we would all enjoy the society of a pleasant young man and though the young ladies will hate me for saying so, I am certain every one under the age of twenty-five will be anxious to meet him.”

“Well, that's settled then. Thank you, my dear, I knew you would understand.”

“What are you discussing, my dear?” Lady Lawrence was heard to say from across the room. She was sitting up with more animation, clearly anxious to hear all that was being said on any subject that she was not a party to.

“I was just telling Mrs Brandon about Henry's plans,” admitted the jovial gentleman, “and have just extracted an invitation to attend the ball for his young friend. I do hope that is acceptable to you, Brandon, old chap.”

Colonel Brandon nodded. “Of course, we would welcome any friends of yours, Sir Edgar.”

“Just what your wife said, only more prettily,” chuckled Sir Edgar. “The thing is, Brandon, Henry is after a pretty property of his own and this young man has one to sell. Dash it all, what's his name, Hannah? I should forget my own name if it wasn’t scribed in the family bible!”

“Why, it's Willoughby,” his wife answered, “Mr John Willoughby. I could not forget the name of such a gallant and handsome young man.” She laughed and patted her curls in a girlish manner.

Marianne caught her husband's expression and their eyes met across the room. There could not be two John Willoughbys in this part of the world. Brandon looked most uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.

His sister continued. “Henry wishes to increase his prospects, you understand, and such an opportunity could not be turned down. I believe the property needs a little attention but I am sure if Henry and Edgar can secure it, he will enjoy making the improvements.”

Marianne's heart was beating so fast she was sure it could be heard. Was Willoughby to sell Allenham Court? This did not fit with the intelligence from Mrs Jennings, who had intimated that the Willoughbys themselves were to live there and that plans had already been drawn up for major works to be started. One thing was certain. It was very clear to Marianne that Hannah Lawrence had no prior knowledge about John Willoughby and that her brother's shared history with that gentleman, or indeed her own, were quite unknown. Relief of a kind washed over her, only to be replaced by the thought that Sir Edgar had informed them that Henry and his friend would soon be making an appearance.

As if her thoughts were transpired into reality, there came sounds from without the salon doors. Voices, talking loudly, were soon followed by the doors being flung wide open, to reveal a tall, handsome, fair-haired man whom Marianne had never seen before, waving the servant away. A younger version of Sir Edgar stood before them, bowing and smiling, but there was no sign of his companion, for which Marianne felt grateful.

“Henry! You are come at last,” cried his mother. “Come in and say how do you do to your uncle. He is most anxious to see you again. William, here is my dearest son, Henry.”

Marianne was sensible of the slight made against her for a second time that morning and did not know where to look. Henry Lawrence, however, as charming as he seemed, nodded towards Brandon but then presented himself before her. He bowed and held out his hand in greeting. “No one told me I had such a beautiful aunt, Mrs Brandon. It is an honour to meet you.”

Marianne was enchanted and could not help smiling at this rather forward gentleman. She guessed they were of a similar age to one another, and it amused her to think that he was indeed her nephew.

He crossed the room next, to shake Brandon's hand. “It is good to see you, Uncle William; it is some time since I saw you last. I have not forgotten the wonderful times we had, how you taught me to ride and to fish.”

“Of course, the summer