Etta’s confidence crumbled. She looked up at her mother, who was greeting more guests and felt remarkably alone. She really was in 1817, she realised. This wasn’t a dream. For the first time, she really felt every one of those two hundred and six long years.
She curtseyed again and again, barely looking at her guests and feeling like she shrunk an inch with every passing dignitary. Her family must be important, she thought. And real.
She was fingering her bracelet as she registered her mother’s hand against her bare arm. ‘Why, Henrietta, you’re chilled to the bone! You should have said! Well, it is time to go inside now anyway. The quartet will be setting up.’
Her mother swept her inside and Etta grabbed a cup of champagne from a passing footman on her way in. Lady Bainbridge gave her side-eye but, typically, as they were in public, said nothing. The pursing of her mother’s mouth, however, indicated that Ladies Did Not get drunk. She made a mental note not to get too wrecked, however tempting itwas – Hetty’s body probably couldn’t take as many negronis as hers could back in 2023 – but she needed a little Dutch courage.
As she made her way across the ballroom, on a mission to eat her feelings at the buffet table, she heard Miss Marley’s voice wafting towards her from a crowd of giggling women who all seemed around their age.
‘The audacity! Remarkable, truly remarkable. I suppose Lady B is happy to think her daughter’s not a loony, but I’m not convinced just yet.’
To her surprise, Miss Marley was staring her dead in the eye. Etta tilted her head questioningly, but Miss Marley smiled maliciously and steadily returned her gaze. Audacity indeed – she had meant for her to hear every word.
Etta stepped towards Miss Marley and her little band of female admirers, who started in a mix of horror, fear and glee. Had she not been having a huge internal crisis, Etta would have been angry as hell. As it was, she was backfooted and confused.
Etta cleared her throat. ‘Miss Marley, is it? Nice to meet you.’
Miss Marley looked at Etta contemptuously. ‘We met at the door. It seems it’s true, then. Hetty really is unfit for company. Her brother was right.’
‘My brother?’
She smiled around her at her acolytes. ‘Oh, yes – we know all about poor Hetty Bainbridge. “Dicked in the nob”, I believe he likes to say in his club. Well, how lovely that your mother is finally letting you out.’
Etta was absolutely stunned. Not even the biggest bitch in high school had been as much of a bitch as this Marley woman. There was nothing in Etta’s armoury for this kind of attack. Then fate came to the rescue.
‘Miss Bainbridge! I don’t think you recognised me and Mama when we arrived earlier. It’s so overwhelming, isn’t it, one’s first ball?’
Etta whirled round and was immensely relieved and grateful to see Miss Best, the young woman from the inn, standing behind her.
Miss Marley let out a cruel laugh. ‘Oh, you have an ally, I see? Well, a friend in need is a friend indeed – and Miss Best, what age are you now? Twenty-five, is it? Truly a friend in need.’
Etta knew this would be a moment she’d be thinking about later, once she’d come up with a dozen cutting replies, but frustratingly she found herself grappling for a comeback.
Miss Best’s bottom lip fluttered, but she had obviously dealt with Miss Marley in the past. She took Etta’s arm and turned away. ‘Come, Miss Bainbridge. Do tell me where you got your dress. The trimming on the flounce is quite lovely.’
As they walked away together, Etta heard the words ‘Too bran-faced to wear white, of course …’ recede into the background.
She pulled Miss Best into an alcove. ‘Thanks for rescuing me – my god, what a bitch!’
Clarissa giggled, eyes wide. ‘Henrietta! You mustn’t!’
‘Well, she is, though. And at my own party!’
Clarissa sighed. ‘Yes, well. Miss Marley isn’t the easiest person to deal with, I must admit. And she does lead the pack, rather.’
Etta paused, mentally taking stock of the encounter. ‘And has Charlie really been going around telling anyone and everyone I’m off my trolley?’
Clarissa looked confused. ‘Off your trolley?’
‘Dicked in the nob,’ Etta clarified.
‘Oh.’ Clarissa looked at Etta assessingly. ‘Yes, I’m afraid he has been rather … active. But you don’t appear insane to me. Perhaps … eccentric. But your family is thought of very highly, you know. Miss Marley may well come to regret her treatment of you.’
‘You bloody bet she will.’
Etta was not a violent person, but right now she badly wanted to hit Miss Marley in her smug little face. She leaned into the wall and pressed her hot face to a cool marble column next to them. The room seemed to be rammed with posh people pretending they weren’t there solely to see what Mad Hetty looked like and Etta’s dress felt tight and sweaty. She could feel every whalebone in her stays pressing against her chest.
‘Ugh, it’s so hot in here. I need a sit down.’
