The feisty Bramleys had called Clarissa a stick-in-the-mud and, yes, it was true that she was quiet. But she’d been there for Etta right at the beginning, when nobody else was prepared to give her the time of day and Etta wouldn’t forget that. Though she wasn’t sure how well Clarissa knew her new mates the Bramleys and couldn’t even begin to imagine a world where she’d approve of their weed habit, she hoped an introduction to some lively new acquaintances might help Clarissa come out of her shell a little. She set herself to the task.
Etta found the Bramleys first and grinned as George was simultaneously elbowed in the sides by both of his sisters.
‘Yes, yes, of course I’m going to ask Etta – sorry, Miss Bainbridge – to dance with me. God, no need to break any ribs.’
Lissie and Tessa both waved goodbye knowingly as Lord Bramley rolled his eyes and pulled Etta into the dance that was just beginning.
There wasn’t much time to talk during the dance, but George was much struck by her brooch. ‘That’s the tiger from Marley’s godawful exhibit at the British Museum, isn’t it? I’m assuming it was specially made?’
Etta grinned at him as he valiantly tried to contain his laughter. ‘Yes, and before you ask I know that’s not what tigers look like. It’s – it’s a bit of an in-joke.’
‘An expensive in-joke, for sure. Need I ask the name of the admirer who undoubtedly commissioned it?’
‘I don’t like to count my chickens before they’re hatched – or, I should say announced – but I imagine you have already guessed.’
George laughed as the dance ended. ‘The whole of London must know by now, Miss Bainbridge. I can’t be the first to wish you both happy?’
Etta took his arm and they headed together towards his sisters. ‘And yet you are. He hasn’t spoken to the vicar yet to have the banns read, anyway.’
‘Oh, he will – or he’ll face the end of my scissors. Perhaps even my rock. So, what next, Miss Bainbridge?’
Etta bit her lip thoughtfully, wondering if there was an orangery, but felt the call of the wild. ‘Sorry, but I need to powder my nose. Try not to murder Smythe while I’m away, will you?’
Lissie grabbed her hand. ‘Come on, let’s all go together.’
They headed into the hallway towards the room dedicated to the usual grim chamber pots.
‘You know, you really should get to know Clarissa Best,’said Etta. ‘I know she’s super quiet, but really she’s been very lovely to m—’
Etta stopped short, her praise crumbling to dirt and ashes in her mouth. She heard Lissie and Tessa gasp next to her, but all she could see was Clarissa. Her quiet, stolid friend Clarissa, her mother in the background instead of the foreground for once, pressed up against Max. Her Max. Kissing him full on the mouth.
‘What the hell. What the HELL?’
Etta heard the words coming out of her mouth without being quite sure where they were coming from. A smug Lady Best stepped forwards.
‘Ah, Hetty, the Misses Bramley. And my daughter. Lord Stanhope, how very dare you compromise my unmarried daughter?’
Lady Best sounded anything but outraged. She looked, in fact, like the cat that got the cream.
‘I see only one way forward from this, Stanhope. Whatever you may have had going on with the Bainbridge girl is surely rendered meaningless by your ungentlemanly behaviour towards my daughter. Ladies, you may wish my daughter happy.’
Etta barely had time to register the shame on Clarissa’s face as she turned and ran, leaving Max, the Bests, the Bramleys, the world behind.
Chapter 43
2024
Hetty and Elliot manoeuvred Stella out of the XL Uber, hauling bin bags full of her brightly coloured, glittering clothes with them.
Elliot almost dropped everything when he got out. ‘Jeez, Hetty, this is your place? Can I move in, too?’
‘Well, I suppose …’
Elliot laughed at Hetty’s tentative response. ‘Nah, don’t worry. I’ve got to stay behind and sort out Mum. God, what a mess.’
Jemima had clearly seen the group of them from the window; before Hetty had time to formulate a response, the cavalry arrived. They were hustled in, Aggie standing guard over the bags while Elliot brought them in as Jemima put the kettle on and opened The Good Biscuits.
‘No need to explain, Hetty, dear. Shove her stuff in the Blue Room. Actually, no. The Yellow Room. Blue’s too sad.’
