‘Do you mean … drawers, miss?’ she whispered. ‘Oh no, Miss Henrietta. No, no, no. Them’s not –they’re not– for the likes of you!’
Etta drew up a nursery chair and flopped herself down, already exhausted by the conversation. This really was turning out to be quite the experience. ‘Drawers? Are we talking about the same thing? Is there a pen and paper anywhere?’
Half an hour and a stick of charcoal later, an outraged Bessie was watching on with her arms crossed as Etta cut out some old sheeting to her new pattern. Not one more day would pass, she decided, without her wearing some version of knickers. If this was a dream, it was turning out to be an extremely odd one. But no version of her life, whether dream or reality, would involve her nether regions flapping freely in the breeze.
She’d always wondered how Elizabeth Bennett had dealt with her period. It was bad enough risking pale leggings during that time of the month, but the thought of leaking through a white muslin dress was frankly appalling.
Thank goodness, then, for Bessie. Bessie who might be, yes, definitely was, quite horrified with her at this moment, but whom she was quite sure she could work on if given enough time.
Three very dodgy pairs of knickers later (spares carefully hidden from Mrs Cummings’ view), the sky was slowly darkening and Etta was more than ready for some food. Charlie had left for London ahead of them, clearly keen to avoid any more difficult conversations about the cellar, but Lady Bainbridge was waiting for her eagerly in a small dining room.
She picked at an elegant dinner of soup followed by roast chicken and green vegetables – the fullPride and Prejudiceexperience was clearly reserved for fancy parties and not cosydinners for two – followed by what was, quite frankly, the best raspberry trifle she’d eaten in her entire life.
Her mother had so many questions for her, and Etta felt awful not to be able to provide any satisfying answers. Why had she stopped talking? Etta had no idea – the letter hadn’t given her any insights clear enough to pass on to her mother. What had she been studying in her diaries all those years? Who knew – ‘time travel’ could hardly be a satisfactory answer.
Etta was beyond curious about Hetty herself, so she felt immense sadness for the poor woman in front of her who had clearly loved her daughter but had simply not been able to get through to her.
Who did, in fact, love her still. It seemed Lady Bainbridge’s heart had been waiting for a crack in Hetty’s defences for many years. Now Etta had arrived, her love flowed in.
‘Darling, you’re going to love London this year. We have so many entertainments lined up! I’ve been planning your debut for years. This will be your moment!’
Matilda Bainbridge had so many ideas, especially about Etta’s coming-out ball. Coming out as a young lady, that was, and not the 2023 version of coming out – something Etta supposed would probably go down somewhat less well with her mother. Her dress would be yellow, she thought – did Etta agree? Etta found she did. They would do more shopping together in London.
Had Hetty had this mother, too? Or had she given up on her? Etta would have done anything for a mother growing up, even one with an annoying, yappy little nightmare of a dog beside her night and day.
‘Goodness, whatareyou doing, Hercules! Do stop bothering Henrietta!’
Etta shook the little dog off her leg.
‘I don’t know what’s got into him. I really don’t!’
Etta was more exhausted than she’d ever been when her mother finally led her up the stairs to a new part of the house. ‘Where are we going?’ she yawned sleepily.
Her mother took her arm and patted it. ‘Your room. Yourproperroom, Henrietta.’
Etta leaned into Lady Bainbridge slightly, inclining her head. ‘No more nursery, then?’
The older woman smiled. ‘No, no more nursery. There’s a nice little cottage awaiting Nanny just a moment’s walk away once we go to London. Until we need her again, of course.’
Yes, Etta thought, when I marry Prince Charming and start popping out my Regency babies, and Nanny comes to coo at them while I sew samplers and dance at balls and wear lace tippets, whatever they are. Because belief could only be suspended for so long – just like there were only so many pages in a romantic novel, or minutes in a film. This had been the longest episode ofBridgertonin history, and Etta had watched alotofBridgerton.
But she was too worn out to keep questioning reality. Once again, Etta was dreaming before her head hit the pillow.
Chapter 11
2023
It wasn’t the most noble instinct she’d had, but Hetty had noted a new tendency towards curiosity. She decided to exercise it on her way to top up her water glass that evening after a long bath when she overheard the aunts talking in their sitting room.
‘Do you think she’s missing her mother and brother?’ Jemima asked Aggie.
‘No, Jemima, I think she’s overwhelmed. And I suspect there might be more – I am wondering if she’s been experiencing depression?’
‘Well, then, we need to get her to a doctor pronto,’ Jemima said.
‘And out of the house. Some fresh air will do her a world of good.’
‘That’s very old-fashioned, you know, Aggie.’
