‘You’ve gone and run your mouth off about me being utterly mad to the whole of London, haven’t you? You’ve had a huge amount of fun telling everyone about your bonkers sister, I dare say?’
‘Hetty …’
‘No, don’t you Hetty me. I’m Etta to my friends andHenriettato you. You are quite literally the worst brother anyone has ever had.’
‘Well, I’m sure it’s not all that—’
Etta’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘Don’t youdaredownplay this. I can’t meet a single person without them looking at me like a turd on their shoe. How did you think this would play out for me? Did you even think about meat all?’
Charlie looked like a deer in headlights. ‘You must know, old girl, we’d quite given up on you.’
Etta slammed her fork down next to her plate. ‘Oh, perhapsyouhad. But our mother clearly never did. I bet it gave you loads to talk about in your little boys’ club, didn’t it? I imagine you needed it, because your head is hardly rattling about with conversation, is it, Charlie?’
She gazed at Charlie, feeling triumphant. She’d been looking forward to reaming him out for weeks, and she wasn’t about to miss this opportunity.
‘Well? Got nothing to say to me now, have you? How are you going to make it up to me, if that’s even possible?’
That was when she realised the table had been silent for quite some time, as it was broken by a sudden cackle.
‘That’s you told, isn’t it, boy?’ said Great Aunt Maude, who didn’t seem quite as deaf as advertised.
Etta looked around the table. Great Aunt Maude wasgazing at Etta with new respect, as though seeing her for the first time, while her mother, calm as always, showed no surprise but an air of smug pleasure.
She loved them, she realised. Her family. They were quite wonderful, even Charlie. She had been totally alone, stuck eating TV dinners in her tiny flat and now here she was arguing with a brother. An idiot brother, but a brother nonetheless.
Charlie coughed, and looked around as everyone turned their eyes to him expectantly. He was pink-cheeked and speechless.
Lady Bainbridge was the next to speak. ‘Your sister is quite right, Charles. I believe she is due quite the apology for your despicable behaviour, which we shall be discussing in the library first thing tomorrow morning.’
Etta couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as Charlie squirmed uncomfortably. It wasn’t quite revenge, but it was a start.
Etta took one long, last look at her brother. ‘You’re going to make this up to me, Charlie Bainbridge, because hardly anyone will speak to me. You have turned me into a pariah. It is not fair of you, and you must know it.’
Charlie was now horribly pale and Etta was surprised to see his eyes shining slightly as he blinked at her. ‘Hetty – Henrietta – I … I truly am sorry,’ he said sincerely.
‘Then show me, Charlie.’
Etta took a leaf from her aunt’s book and returned to her pudding, which really was very good. As she tucked in, she felt her mother’s hand search for hers under the table and gave it a quick squeeze.
‘I think I shall leave it all to Henrietta, you know.’
They all turned to look at Great Aunt Maude, but she was deep into her gooseberry tart.
Chapter 26
1817
Charlie set to work on Etta’s reputation immediately. Thankfully, it seemed her brother was popular for his generally good-natured personality and generosity – a good word from him went a long way with Society. She imagined it also helped that he was okay-looking, titled and unmarried. Most peers could have found plenty of company on the basis of their title and wealth alone, but Charlie had more than that: annoyingly, given how cross she was with him, he had charm. It helped that he’d started using the right name: no more Hetty. She was all Etta now.
Suddenly, quite pleasant young ladies and their less sour-faced mamas began to approach her and Lady Bainbridge on their morning walks. Invitations began to flood in and her dance card filled up faster at every dance and ball.
Etta was so busy she could barely keep track of who she saw or which party she was at, so it was a welcome sight one evening when she and Charlie saw Max from the family’s box at the opera. He joined them during the first interval after he heard Charlie’s hilarious impression of the lead soloist. Theyboth convulsed in laughter as her brother’s falsetto drew attention, good and bad, from every box in the theatre and much of the stalls.
She and Charlie had been making up their own lyrics to the tunes they’d heard, and were probably laughing in a manner inappropriate for an opera house.
‘Charlie, I didn’t expect to see you here,’ said Max, ‘and I certainly didn’t expect to hear your dulcet tones murdering Mozart.’
Charlie laughed and waved him into their box. ‘Oh, Etta, it’s Lord Stanhope, come to ruin our fun.’
