Chapter 12
It looked like the last day of a long summer so, on the first free afternoon she’d had after several days of dance classes, table-manner lessons, shoe-fittings and other forms of manic preparation for her journey to London, Etta decided to take one of Hetty’s notebooks outside to read.
To avoid the heat, she headed for the woods just past the gardens.
As she wrapped herself in her shawl and spread herself under a tree to read, sunlight dappling her face through the leaves, Etta realised she might as well not have bothered.
She had chosen at random and Hetty’s handwriting was close to illegible.
It was going to take her quite some time to decipher it and, having wrangled with it for at least an hour every evening so far, she decided today was not going to be the day she managed to crack the case. Time for a day off.
She’d promised the old ladies on the Tube that she would write a diary herself, so settled on that and tried to offload as much as she could.
But Etta tired of that quickly, too – after a while she lay back on the grass and stared at the sky.
It was idyllic, really. There was no sound at all, besides the wind in the trees and the birds calling to one another.
Puffy clouds passed overhead peacefully, no criss-crossing contrails marring their beauty, and birds flew on their long journey to sunnier climes.
Or were they returning for winter? Migration patterns were not in her wheelhouse.
The longer she lay there, the more connected she felt to the ground. The trees swayed lazily in the wind above her, scattering the odd leaf, trunks ripe with lichen and mushrooms. Life was everywhere.
Her mind wandered to something one of her colleagues had said once.
She hadn’t been friends with anyone at work, particularly.
But she’d enjoyed listening to office small talk, even though she didn’t partake herself.
And once, Dave from IT had been sounding off loudly in the break room about, yes, mushrooms, of all things.
It had been some nonsense hot take on anxiety and depression, she remembered.
Dave had really been on his hobby horse about it.
In the olden days, he’d opined in the confident bellow of a middle-aged white man, livestock had eaten wild magic mushrooms. Then, said Dave, these hallucinogens had made their way into the food chain.
This meant that everyone in history was microdosing.
Of course, modern cows, sheep, chickens, etcetera, weren’t fed ‘naturally’ any more so no more mushrooms, said Dave, hence the ‘crashing tidal wave of poor mental health’.
He’d been laughed out of the break room, probably because his whole rant had been a response to their boss banning his ‘totally not illegal’ mushroom-based chocolate-flavoured protein powder.
Etta wasn’t missing her office, not one bit. Not Miranda the nosy receptionist, not Pervy Colin, and certainly not Dave.
She smiled, feeling overwhelming relief as she closed her eyes against the warm sun.
No more stifling commute, no more wriggling into too-small tights, no more microwave meals for one.
All she had to do was try on beautiful dresses, help her mother decide how to redecorate the house while they were in London, and eat gorgeous, elegantly cooked fresh produce.
Even the most anxious servant in 1817 was infinitely more relaxed than a typical 2020s office worker. She had never known such freedom.
‘Miss Hetty! Miss! You must wake up!’
It was getting dark, Etta realised; she must have been asleep for hours.
‘You’ve been missed! You must come inside straight away!’
Bessie managed to hustle Etta indoors without any fuss, squirrelling her earth-stained dress and petticoat away somewhere.
She couldn’t really believe that she would get into trouble just for reading outside, but Nanny, caught halfway through packing for her new abode in the village, was quite miffed.
‘You can’t go running off out of sight, Hetty dear. Not if you’re to go to London.’ She patted Etta’s arm placatingly. ‘Now don’t be cross with me. I haven’t told your mother and father. Just try and do us proud.’
It was hard to be cross with Nanny when the older woman looked at her with such pride and love. Besides, she might not have any of the pressures of 2023, but there were rules all the same. Ones she’d have to follow if she wanted to be part of life here in 1817.
The bracelet felt heavy around her wrist. She’d give London a try before making any rash decisions.
As Etta got ready for bed, she heard Bessie come in from her little room next door.
‘We’re all packed for London now, miss.’
‘Etta! Call me Etta, please, Bessie!’
‘I can’t, miss. It wouldn’t be right. Anyway, Miss Hetty warned me about this, but it hardly made any sense at the time. You’re really not her, are you? Even Miss Hetty would never go off and sleep on the lawn!’
Bessie was staring at her, desperate for answers that Etta couldn’t give. She looked scared.
‘No,’ Etta said truthfully. ‘I am not her and I don’t have a clue what’s happened. I come from another place altogether, another time.’
‘Another time, miss?’
‘The future, I suppose. One moment I was on the— sorry, just going about my day – and the next moment I was here.’
Bessie leaned back slightly, looking surprisingly mollified. ‘You – she – warned me this might happen, miss, but I really didn’t understand. I thought maybe she was as mad as everyone said.’
Etta smoothed the blankets down either side of her. ‘Tell me, what was Hetty like?’
‘Well … quiet, miss. Her ladyship thought that if she brought me here from London as a lady’s maid perhaps Miss Hetty would … perk up a little. It didn’t work, but … well, the pay is good and I like it here.’
‘Sounds like we’re going back to London for a while, though? You gonna be all right?’
‘Oh yes, miss. Much of the household staff is coming, including … well, everyone important.’
Etta watched Bessie blush as she retreated to her room. There was clearly a story there, and one she would deeply enjoy teasing out of Bessie.
Only a few days ago, Etta had felt like she had nothing and nobody.
Today all her stresses and responsibilities were melting away.
No rent, no bills, no 9-to-5 job. All she had to do was wear nice clothes and try to fit in.
She decided to enjoy it as long as it lasted.
After all, didn’t people always say a change was as good as a rest?