Chapter 37
Stella’s text came at midnight: Been thinking about the videos. Wld be funny to get you to react to stories from Reddit. I like this one.
There was a link, which Hetty clicked. It jumped straight to the words: ‘Sounds perfect for you – you’ve already fallen for her, right? She’s a winner with or without the cash. Who cares if she’s a little cray-cray? I say stick with it and see how it pans out.’
There was another underneath: ‘Seems like OP is freaking out more about the money than the whole Regency thing. Controversial but I don’t see any problem in having a rich GF haha.’
Hetty scrolled up.
My millionaire girlfriend (21F) told me (23F) she’s a Regency lady and I think I believe her?
The title, really. I met this woman at a class I run at an adult learning centre and she’s so unique. Sweet, cute, and very caring. Plus totally gorgeous.
The only problem is she says she’s from the 1800s and weirdly I kind of believe her?
She dresses like an old lady and has a really posh voice.
She hasn’t got a clue how to use computers or her mobile phone which is how I met her.
She got her aunt to make me a dress as well for this short form video idea we had and it’s exactly like something out of Bridgerton.
She came to computing classes and she legit didn’t even know what a credit card was. Then today I saw her online banking and she’s got a hundred grand in her bloody current account and no idea how much it is.
I was already kinda freaked out that she lived with her two super rich aunts in some central London mansion and now it turns out she’s super rich herself. I’m from a council estate FFS. Not even sure how I’d introduce her to my family.
Is it weird that I want to carry on with our relationship? I kind of don’t mind about the whole Regency lady thing but I’m not sure how I feel about dating someone so completely different to me.
Hetty clicked on ‘View all comments.’ It was a mixed bag, but all the top-voted opinions were things like ‘Stop moaning about your super rich pretty girlfriend’ and ‘Does it really matter if she’s a bit mental if you like her? Because it sounds like you really do.’
Her phone vibrated with another message from Stella: Happy Christmas – hope you had a nice time with the Aunts. Sorry I freaked out. Shall we take two on that shopping trip? I’m off work tomorrow. See you outside River Island at 10?
Hetty collapsed backwards onto her bed with relief. It had been a long, worrying Christmas without Stella, however cosy it had been sitting around eating Aggie’s enormous roast lunch and drinking Jemima’s home-brewed spirit she called ‘Damson Gut Rot’. They’d still been drunk on Boxing Day.
She hit the green button next to Stella’s name, seeking her voice: needing to know for certain that everything was going to be okay.
‘Hetty?’ Stella sounded even more exhausted than Hetty. ‘You know nobody calls people on the phone, right?’
‘Why does it let me, then?’
‘Fair enough.’
Hetty heard Stella moving and realised she must be in bed. She felt a rising blush touch her ears. ‘So … You’ve changed your mind? You’ll still court me?’
Stella huffed with laughter.
‘Court you… ! Hetts, I never made my mind up in the first place. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel like this. But you tell me you’re from 18-something—’
‘1817.’
‘Okay, 1817. So you’re by far the strangest girlfriend I’ve ever, ever had. Even stranger than the girl who kept frogs, and the girl who used to steal wallpaper, and even the girl who couldn’t have sex unless she was watching a live recording of Metallica’s 2003 Summer Sanitorium tour.’
‘My goodness, that’s a lot of suitors …! All those women…’ said Hetty.
‘Yes, and not one of them was from the 1800s, Hetty.’ Stella broke off, sighing, then continued, ‘But you really are from then, aren’t you?
I’ve barely got my head around that. You’re, like, two hundred years old!
You come from a place that didn’t even have cars!
And your main concern – your primary worry, in all of this, Hetty – is my dating history? ’
Hetty sank back against her headboard, fisting her hand in her pillow. ‘Well, I don’t have one,’ said Hetty in a small voice. ‘A history, that is. Nobody has ever courted me before. Marriage has never been on my horizon before.’
‘Marriage?’ Stella snorted. ‘Oh, Hetty. You’re getting a bit carried away, aren’t you? And anyway, marriage is a bit old-fashioned, isn’t it?’
Hetty didn’t know how to respond, but Stella had started laughing.
‘Don’t worry, Hetts – it’s an adventure. And the only way to go on an adventure is one step at a time. One foot in front of another.’
‘That’s the wisest thing I’ve ever heard, I think.’
Stella laughed again. ‘I know, right? I got it off Reddit.’
Hetty had slept like the dead. The next morning Aggie taught her how to use the map app on her phone and keyed in River Island, a worryingly modern-looking, sharp-edged shop that was far larger and more intimidating than Hetty would have liked.
The Christmas lights were almost dazzling, tourists occasionally jostling her as they made their way from one attraction to the next, but Hetty was already getting used to it.
The busyness didn’t bother her when it was Stella she was waiting for.
She stood nervously on the opposite side of the road away from the main thoroughfare, simultaneously excited and fearful of seeing Stella again.
But when Stella appeared she immediately wrapped Hetty in a huge hug. She melted into her, oblivious to her sincere apology, gratefully sliding her chilled hand into Stella’s delightfully warm one as they crossed the road.
‘I’m so sorry, Hetty. Like I said on the phone, I didn’t mean to freak out. I just … I dunno, I don’t know any rich people. Or Regency ladies, obviously,’ Stella said. ‘But then I remembered that you’re just Hetty.’
‘No, I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier about everything. I was just … scared. That you’d … I don’t know …’
Stella laughed and completed her sentence. ‘That I’d freak out, exactly like I did?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose …’
Stella’s hand squeezed hers. ‘I don’t know if I fully get the whole Regency thing, but it explains a lot. And it gave me a great idea for our videos, if you’re up for it?’
They’d been planning to riff off Hetty’s diaries, but Stella had noticed a fascinating online trend for reading – and reacting – to online horror stories of relationships and situations gone wrong.
The idea of staid old Hetty reading the very worst of Reddit while dressed in her fancy shot silk gown in the middle of the aunts’ eclectic sitting room clearly spoke to Stella’s sense of the ridiculous.
Hetty had to agree, having spent twenty horrified minutes browsing Reddit the night before.
As Stella had rightfully pointed out, though, Hetty couldn’t spend the rest of her life veering between Regency ballgowns and the full-length dresses her aunts had picked out for her.
They’d served her well while she’d adjusted to her new surroundings, but it had only taken one session of people-watching in a café for Hetty to realise she was dressed very conservatively indeed compared to her modern peers.
But it was one thing seeing other people wearing short skirts and showing their middles. Though Hetty was not at all averse to seeing anyone’s middle, it was another thing completely to wear a crop top herself – especially as the winter chill set in.
Hetty stood in the brightly lit changing room staring at herself.
Stella had given her a heavy armful of clothing to hang in the changing room and was now sitting on a chair outside the curtained cubicles waiting for her patiently.
The pile had contained a variety of dresses – they’d decided to stick to dresses for now – and Hetty’s eye had immediately been drawn to a tiny, stretchy, silver one.
It was completely unlike anything Hetty had ever seen or imagined. She’d wrestled it on and then stood wrapped in awe at her own body for several minutes. She could hardly believe such a thing could be considered clothing.
‘You okay in there?’ came Stella’s worried voice.
Hetty paused. ‘I’m trying the glittering silver one. I’m – I’m not sure I’ve got it on correctly, frankly.’
‘Are you decent? Come show me.’
Hetty might as well have been naked, she thought, as she bravely stepped out from behind the curtain.
Her arms and torso were covered – the dress had a high, wide neck and long sleeves – but the vast majority of her long, strong legs were completely on display.
Nobody but Bessie and Mrs Cummings had seen this much of her body before.
Hetty felt air on her legs and struggled not to cover herself with the curtain, but then dared to look up from the floor and saw Stella’s face.
Stella was looking at her as though … well, as though she were the brightly shining moon, dazzling in the night sky, clothed in glittering stars. Which fitted, since Stella was still – would always be – the sun. They gazed at one another for a few long seconds before Stella finally spoke.
‘That’s it. You’re definitely coming out with me and the boys for New Year’s Eve.’
‘But I already came out, surely?’
Stella rolled her eyes. ‘Out-out.’
‘Oh.’ Hetty nodded knowingly, knowing nothing at all. ‘Out Out. I see.’
‘No, you don’t.’ Stella laughed. ‘But you will.’