‘Girls,’ she said. She sounded as if she could hardly catch her breath. ‘Girls—’

They stepped forward, towards her. Elinor put out an arm as if to support her. ‘Goodness, Mrs J., are you OK? Are you—’

Abigail pressed her phone into the folds of the cashmere scarf draped around her neck. ‘My dears …’

‘What? What – it is something awful?’

Mrs Jennings looked at the ceiling as if for divine sustenance. ‘Not exactly awful …’

Elinor and Marianne now both put steadying hands on their hostess and guided her solicitously across the bathroom to sit on the closed lid of the lavatory. She said, gasping slightly, ‘I just rang Charlotte …’

‘Yes! Yes?’

‘Because, you know, she was in such a state about the baby crying, and I said, Well, it’ll be colic, it’s so common and you need this divine Donovan man, the osteopath, to do a little cranial massage on the baby, and you’ll be amazed at the effect. It’s astonishing how many people simply do not understand how the plates of the brain get squashed on that grim journey down the birth canal, and then that compresses the nerve endings at the base of the skull, and hey presto, colic, poor little—’

‘Is that’, Marianne said, interrupting, from her kneeling position on the bathroom floor beside Mrs Jennings, ‘why you were screaming? Because of the baby and—’

Mrs Jennings gazed at her, round-eyed. ‘Oh no. No, dear. That was why I rang Charlotte. To tell her—’

‘Then why—?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why were you screaming?’

Mrs Jennings took a huge breath, lifted her plump hands and let them fall dramatically into her lap, still holding her telephone.

‘My dear, you will not believe what Charlotte told me. Such dramas. It’s like something out of a novel.’

Elinor knelt too. She said, ‘Please tell us!’

Mrs Jennings bent forward, as if to impart something confidential. ‘There’s been the most ghastly row. In Harley Street. Just this morning. Apparently Nancy Steele thought that everyone there was getting on so famously that it would be perfectly acceptable to tell your brother and sister-in-law that Lucy and the Ferrars boy – your sister-in-law’s brother, dear, the F-word boy, God help us – have been engaged for more than a year, and never told a soul because Mrs Ferrars senior has such fixed ideas about who her boys should marry, being so terrified, as she is, of fortune-hunters. Your sister-in-law went completely ballistic, Charlotte said, and rushed to wake Lucy up and tell her she was sick of cheap little gold-diggers sniffing round her family, and next thing we know, Lucy and Nancy are out on the pavement and round they go to Charlotte’s, straightaway, and Tommy found his kitchen was absolutely full of crying women and a screaming baby and Charlotte says he just went straight off to the office, even though it’s Sunday.’

Marianne was ashen. She sat back on her heels, her hand over her mouth. From behind it, muffled, she said, ‘Not Ed. Not—’

Mrs Jennings patted her. ‘Come on, now, dear. It’s lovely he’s stood by Lucy, isn’t it? I think to defy those money-obsessed Ferrarses takes some doing, I really do. I rather applaud him; I can’t bear people who think money is all that matters.’

Marianne’s gaze swung round to Elinor. She whispered, dropping her hand, ‘Did you know?’

Elinor nodded mutely. ‘When?’ Marianne said.

‘Weeks ago. Months.’

‘And you didn’t tell me?’

Elinor said, looking at the floor, ‘I didn’t tell anyone.’

Mrs Jennings heaved herself to her feet. She said, cheerfully, ‘It’s quite a story, don’t you think?’

‘Yes,’ they both said politely, not moving.

She stepped clumsily over them. ‘I know she’s your sister-in-law, dears, but really, what a reaction! Poor Lucy. Sweet girl. It’s such a lovely story, especially in this day and age, don’t you think? Now, I’m going across to Charlotte’s, to see what I can do to help. Will you girls just help yourselves to breakfast? Croissants in the cupboard.’

‘Thank you.’

Mrs Jennings paused in the doorway. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘they might make a go of it. They really might. Love on a shoestring and all that. I’m sure I could help with some furniture.’ She glanced back at the Dashwood girls, still crouched on the floor. ‘I wonder what will happen when Ed’s mother knows! Fireworks won’t be in it and, I’m telling you, I don’t want to miss a moment!’

Elinor looked up at her. She managed a tired smile. ‘Give Charlotte our love,’ she said.

When her footsteps had retreated, Marianne said hoarsely to her sister, ‘You have known all along, Elinor Dashwood, that Ed and Lucy were engaged, all the time I’ve been like I’ve been?’

Elinor nodded reluctantly.

‘So,’ Marianne said, leaning forward to grip Elinor’s nearest wrist, ‘Ed is as much of a complete scumbag as Wills is?’

‘No,’ Elinor said, with vehemence. ‘No.’

‘Two-timing, choosing a complete little cow like—’

‘It’s different,’ Elinor said. ‘He’s different. He was neglected and bullied when he was little, and then all those people in Plymouth were kind to him, and Lucy was in the mix, and he felt this obligation …’

‘Huh,’ Marianne said.

‘She’s not a bad person.’

‘She’s a witch.’

‘And he’, Elinor said with an effort, ‘isn’t bad either.’

‘He’s pathetic.’

Elinor gave a little gasp, as if she was choking down a sob.

‘Ellie?’

‘What?’

‘Did you love him?’

Elinor writhed a little, on the floor. ‘I don’t know. Yes. No. I – I love quite a lot of people.’

‘Not men.’

‘Even some men.’

‘But not Ed!’

Elinor looked at her. She said seriously, ‘M, I don’t believe in a one and only love, like you do. But yes, I do have feelings for Ed, I do. And before you rubbish him any more, I just want to say that he’s never promised me anything, he’s never made me hope or believe in anything he couldn’t deliver. In fact, I think he likes me. I’ll go further. I know he likes me. But he’s trapped. By his mother and now by all these circumstances, and he’s got to assert his independence and he’s got trapped in how he does that, too. I don’t know if he wants to be with Lucy or not, but he’s not going to let her down because he’s been let down himself by so many people all his life that he can’t bring himself to do it to someone else, whatever the cost to him is. Don’t you see?’

There was a long silence. Then Marianne got slowly to her feet. Looking down at her sister, she said quietly,

‘You love him. Don’t you.’

Elinor sighed. She gave an imperceptible nod.

Marianne said fiercely, ‘All this time while I’ve been banging on about Wills and weeping and wailing and being a general diva pain to everyone, you knew about Lucy and Ed, and you never said a word to me.’

Elinor got to her knees, and then awkwardly to her feet. She didn’t look at Marianne. She shook her head. ‘No.’

‘I feel awful.’

‘Please—’

‘Ellie,’ Marianne said, her voice breaking, ‘I’ve been such a bitch. So selfish. I got so obsessed that I never even looked to see if you might be suffering.’ She reached out and took Elinor’s nearest hand. ‘I’m so sorry. Ellie, I really am. I’m so, so sorry.’

Elinor gave a little bark of half-laughter. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘It does. It does.’ Marianne dropped Elinor’s hand and put her arms round her instead. ‘God, Ellie. I feel terrible about how I’ve been to you, I could kill myself!’

‘Don’t do that. Please, don’t …’

‘What can I do? Ellie, what can I do to try and make it up to you in even the most minuscule degree?’

Elinor gently disengaged herself. She put her hands on her sister’s shoulders and regarded her gravely. ‘There is something.’

‘What? Anything, anything!’

‘M,’ Elinor said, ‘I want you to behave as if neither of us gives a stuff about any of this.’

‘What?’

‘I mean it. I want you to be nice to Lucy and like you always are to Ed. I want no one ever, ever, to suspect that I have any axe to grind. Lucy and Ed are just another happy couple we happen to be vaguely connected to, and no more. OK?’

Marianne said sadly, ‘But I want to murder her.’

‘It’s not about you. It’s not about her. It’s about me. I want you to promise to help save my face. I want you to do this for me. Me, Elinor. Do you get it?’

Marianne sighed. Then she smiled wanly.

‘I get it. Promise.’

In Elinor’s cardigan pocket, her phone began to ring. She pulled it out and peered at the screen. ‘Gosh,’ she said, ‘it’s John!’

‘Answer it,’ Marianne said. ‘Quick.’

Elinor put the phone to her ear. ‘Hello?’ she said. ‘John?’

‘Elinor?’ he said. ‘Elinor. Do you have a moment?’

‘Of course.’

She motioned to Marianne to resume sitting on the floor beside her, their backs against the panels of the bathtub.

‘Something very – grave has happened,’ John said. ‘Fanny is really upset, terribly hurt, you know how trusting she is—’

Elinor said quickly, ‘John, we do know, if you mean—’

‘It’s appalling,’ he said, interrupting, his voice high with indignation. ‘It’s like wildfire these days. There’s a private family upset and the world knows about it in seconds. Fanny feels completely betrayed, of course, and who wouldn’t, after all she’s done for those worthless girls.’

‘Yes.’

‘Elinor, she took them in because she felt that her family owed their family for looking after Edward during his teens. She was behaving beautifully, and generously, as she always does, and then she finds that Lucy has got her claws into Edward and plans to marry him and when confronted with this – honestly, Elinor, you would not believe his sheer brazenness to his sister and mother – Edward has the utter nerve to say it’s all quite true and that they are going to marry.’