It was not entirely true. What Daniel had really envisaged was that news of his imminent departure would prompt her to throw herself into his arms and spare him the trouble of a long courtship. He had met Abigail at a dinner hosted by the Lord Treasurer, his chance meeting at Holywell with Lord Godolphin bearing immediate fruit. Among the guests were Sir Nicholas Piper and his younger daughter. Daniel had taken an instant liking to her and contrived some time alone with Abigail.

She had made sure that he knew where she went for a walk with her maid every morning and, although it rained the following day, he was there for what looked like a casual encounter. In fact, her companion had been primed to drift away for a while so that the two of them could talk more freely as they sheltered under the trees. On his side, interest had swiftly moved on to frank desire whereas, for Abigail, it was a case of true love. Given her response to his news, it looked as if neither of them would get what they secretly coveted.

'You've let me down, Daniel,' she said, holding back her tears. 'You should have told me at the very start that you'd soon be leaving the country.'

'That would only have frightened you away,' he argued, 'and I could not bear the thought of that. It's happened before, you see. When young ladies hear that I'm in the army, they shy away from me because they know I must spend a long time abroad each year.'

'I was bound to find out sooner or later.'

'Granted — but by then, I trusted, we'd have established a firm friendship, something strong enough to withstand the fact that we had to be apart for a little while.'

'I may not see you again until the autumn — if then,' she said despondently. 'That's far more than a little while. It's also more than I can tolerate. You do me wrong to raise my expectations then dash them to pieces like this.'

'We still have one whole day together,' he told her.