‘I’m sure Miller has something to say aboutHepatica,’ said Herbert. ‘I’ll look it up for you when I’m home, Knatchbull.’
Thea grasped the back of Harriet’s dress and tugged sharply. ‘I do beg your pardon ladies,’ she said to the scowling group, apparently deeply engaged in a discourse on a China sauceboat. ‘I must speak to Mrs Henry.’ You could interrupt when you were a duchess, however distasteful people found it.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Harriet as Thea dragged her up the stairs.
‘My brain is about to fold up like a piece of parchment,’ said Thea, marching Harriet down the gallery, through her cabinet corridor and closing the bedroom door behind them. ‘I am in my own house, I have spent three hundred pounds doing it up, and I must decide whether to be dismissed by men or scorned by women.’ She turned to Harriet. ‘I am about to shrivel up with boredom like an extricated appendix. If I stay down there, I will actually try to prize off Knatchbull’s toenails. Slowly and one by one.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ said Harriet, taking a swig of whatever amber liquid was in her glass and then holding it up to Thea in a ‘cheers’ motion.
‘Good lord,’ said Thea as a wave of Harriet’s breath washed over her. She feared for her wallpaper. ‘Is that whisky?’
‘Probably,’ said Harriet. ‘I found it in that credenza under the parlour window.’
‘Do you think you should cut down?’ asked Thea, as Harriet swayed towards her.
‘Probably. But not tonight.’ Harriet made a sweeping gesture towards the door. ‘It’s new year and I get to spend it with the woman I love who has spent four hours talking to six other women about sauce boats.’ She took another swig from the glass. ‘Thing is, I really don’t care if it has a fucking shouting lion for a handle, I just want her to be married to him and not to me.’ Then she frowned and blinked. ‘I mean to me and not to him.’ She screwed up her eyes and peered at Thea. ‘Imagine if two ladies could ever get married, how fabulous that would be. Is there still only one of you?’
‘Come and lie down,’ said Thea, gently guiding Harriet towards the bed before she fell over. They lay down on it, next to one another, staring at the drapes above the four posts. Thea dangled one leg off the side.
‘We’re doing badly at moving on.’
‘Yes,’ said Harriet. ‘She’s just – always there.’
Thea was silent.
‘Sorry,’ said Harriet. ‘I know yours isn’t.’
Thea slapped her on the thigh. ‘I’m really sorry you have to talk about crap porcelain just to be around her,’ she said.
Harriet snorted. ‘I can think of better things to do.’
‘Not in my ballroom, thank you,’ said Thea.
‘Not anywhere with her anymore,’ said Harriet wistfully. ‘Hasn’t given me a kind word or any touch at all since that night in the stagecoach. Between us there’s now only theatre, porcelain and simmering want.’
‘We have to try harder,’ said Thea. ‘There must be something.’
Harriet leaned up on an elbow, looked at Thea with slightly glazed eyes, and all of a sudden lunged forward and kissed herfull on the lips. Shocked, Thea grasped her arm and kissed her back a bit because she was her friend and it seemed impolite not to. Harriet tasted of whisky and – well – just whisky.
Then the door flew open. Thea froze, and so did Harriet. Mrs Phibbs was backing into the room. Why was their timing always this awful?
‘The duchess will likely be up first so if we get her’s stoked now–’ Mrs Phibbs’ back stopped as Joan’s form came into view and faltered. They were carrying a coal scuttle between them which hovered, stationary. ‘–What are you?’ Thea saw Mrs Phibbs look up into Joan’s horrified face and then turn into the room. Harriet was still lying half on top of Thea and there really was no chance of explaining it away with boils this time.
‘Hello,’ said Thea, there being no noble protocol for this kind of interaction.
‘Oh, Your Grace, we are so sorry,’ said Joan, trying to back out of the room, but Mrs Phibbs still held one side of the coal scuttle handle, arresting Joan’s movement. She put the other hand on her hip.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘This I did not expect.’
‘Me neither,’ said Thea, still slightly muffled by Harriet’s weight on her.
‘We were trying to move on,’ said Harriet, shifting her weight to the side and lying back on the bed. Thea was glad of the respite.
‘Good idea, for both of you,’ said Mrs Phibbs, putting down her side of the scuttle and turning around. She looked between them. ‘Did it work?’
Thea and Harriet looked at one another. ‘No,’ they said in unison.
‘I see,’ said Mrs Phibbs, and then looked at the fire. ‘In that case do you want us to stoke the fire with more coal? The girl isoff with flu so we’re trying to get round all the rooms before you all come up. Or were,’ she clarified.
