Chapter 25
The parties ramped up as the Season continued. If Etta was lucky, she’d see Clarissa Best who tolerated her forthright statements and continued to very kindly and patiently fill her in on etiquette.
Lady Bainbridge seemed laid back enough to countenance Lady Best with her usual smiling tolerance, but most of society found Lady Best to be the outside of enough.
Lord Best must have powerful connections, Etta realised, for such a very awful woman to be invited to so very many parties.
She soon discovered that Clarissa’s papa was bezzie mates with the dissolute Prince Regent, so Etta didn’t blame him for being conspicuously absent – in fact, she hadn’t seen him even once.
But then again she had yet to meet the outrageous Prinny, who was apparently down in Brighton overseeing the building of the Pavilion.
And so, lacking the ability to chastise her husband, Lady Best had turned her critical eye on Clarissa.
Clarissa sighed and wilted under her mama’s scrutiny, but would say nothing other than that her mother only wanted the best for her.
It seemed none of the earls, baronets, etc.
would do – only a marquess or duke, or a future marquess or duke, was good enough for the daughter of Lady Best. So Clarissa remained unwed.
Etta wasn’t on close terms with anyone other than Clarissa, but she soon found out the full story behind the Ton’s disgust of Lady Best’s high-handed ways. It seemed being Maria Marley’s enemy could yield as much information as it could being her closest friend.
‘You might want to reconsider your friends,’ whispered Miss Marley, as their mothers gossiped in the park one morning. ‘Everyone knows Lady Best was an … actress … before she met Lord Best and got With Child. She is said to have blackmailed him.’
She sounded absolutely scandalised. Perhaps she even was.
‘Well, at least she’s done something exciting with her life,’ Etta said. ‘Acting is quite a skill. You can’t even act like a pleasant person.’
Their mothers had finished their conversation, so Miss Marley was forced to depart before she could give any kind of reply. Etta smiled as she clocked her wide eyes. She would bet any number of first edition Jane Austen novels that Maria was seething.
She turned to her mother, to whom she was feeling closer every day.
‘Mother … Mama. Miss Marley doesn’t seem to like me very much, or Miss Best,’ Etta began.
‘Well, dear, there’s not much to like about Lady Best, that’s for sure. But I really can’t be sure why she would have taken a dislike to you.’
Etta paused. They hadn’t discussed Hetty’s childhood at all, but this felt like the right time. ‘Mama, the other women my age—’
‘Hardly women, Henrietta. Girls, really.’
‘Yes, well – they seem to think I’m … mad.’
Lady Bainbridge looked over at Etta, eyes suddenly sharp. ‘But you’re not, are you?’
‘No, of course not. But before … Well, I suppose I can understand why people might think I was.’
Her mother seemed to relax at this. ‘You’ve finally grown up, Henrietta, and come out of your shell. It was bound to happen eventually.’
Of course. Denial was not just a river in Egypt, as Etta well knew from these past few weeks. But there was one question she was determined to ask.
‘But they said – they’re all saying Charlie’s the one who’s been spreading it around. Why would he do that?’
Lady Bainbridge looked steadily ahead. ‘That’s a question I shall be asking him directly. Now look at these roses – aren’t they beautiful?’
Etta spent a while considering how she was going to punish Charlie. In the end she decided to confront him head-on. Hetty had not deserved this, and Etta would certainly not tolerate it.
It took a random family dinner at the house of one of her mother’s many interchangeable distant relatives for Etta to decide the exact form of her revenge.
They were at the modest (huge, by Etta’s standards) home of someone who was apparently her Great Aunt Maude, and for once Charlie had been dragged along. It was a golden – and rare – opportunity to pin down her elusive brother, who seemed to spend the vast majority of his time out of the house.
It wasn’t long until Etta discovered why he’d deigned to join them on this occasion. Great Aunt Maude was, despite her dusty and tattered house, ‘rolling in lard’ according to Charlie.
‘Got to do the pretty every now and then so she doesn’t forget us,’ he said.
It was a small gathering – just her mother, her aunt and Charlie – and Etta, who was seated next to Charlie, soon learned that Great Aunt Maude was almost completely deaf, so Etta finally had her brother to herself.
As her mother made painstakingly slow conversation with Great Aunt Maude, who seemed far more interested in her meal than her companions, Etta turned to her brother and gave him a wide, dangerous smile.
‘So good to be able to spend some time with you at last, you absolute arsehole.’
‘Oh, of course – hang on, what did you say?’
‘I called you an arsehole, Charlie. For that is what you are. A pestilent boil on the arse of my existence.’
‘Now hold on here—’
‘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 and Henrietta to 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 you dare downplay 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 me at 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, perhaps you had. 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 was gazing 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.